[Enter Count Almaviva, dressed as a student.]

Count [solemnly]—­May peace and joy abide here evermore!

Bartolo [brusquely]—­Never, young sir, was wish more apropos!  What do you want?

Count—­Sir, I am one Alonzo, a bachelor of arts—­

Bartolo—­Sir, I need no instructor.

Count——­ ——­ a pupil of Don Basilio, the organist of the convent, who teaches music to Madame your—­

Bartolo [suspiciously]—­Basilio!  Organist!  Yes, I know him.  Well?

Count [aside]—­What a man! [Aloud.] He’s confined to his bed with a sudden illness.

Bartolo—­Confined to his bed!  Basilio!  He’s very good to send word, for I’ve just seen him.

Count [aside]—­Oh, the devil! [Aloud.] When I say to his bed, sir, it’s—­I mean to his room.

Bartolo—­Whatever’s the matter with him, go, if you please.

Count [embarrassed]—­Sir, I was asked—­Can no one hear us?

Bartolo [aside]—­It’s some rogue! [Aloud.] What’s that?  No, Monsieur Mysterious, no one can hear!  Speak frankly—­if you can.

Count [aside]—­Plague take the old rascal! [Aloud.] Don Basilio asked me to tell you—­

Bartolo—­Speak louder.  I’m deaf in one ear.

Count [raising his voice]—­Ah! quite right:  he asks me to say to you that one Count Almaviva, who was lodging on the great square—­

Bartolo [frightened]—­Speak low, speak low.

Count [louder]——­moved away from there this morning.  As it was I who told him that this Count Almaviva—­

Bartolo—­Low, speak lower, I beg of you.

Count [in the same tone]—­Was in this city, and as I have discovered that Senorita Rosina has been writing to him—­

Bartolo—­Has been writing to him?  My dear friend, I implore you, do speak low!  Come, let’s sit down, let’s have a friendly chat.  You have discovered, you say, that Rosina—­

Count [angrily]—­Certainly.  Basilio, anxious about this correspondence on your account, asked me to show you her letter; but the way you take things—­

Bartolo—­Good Lord!  I take them well enough.  But can’t you possibly speak a little lower?

Count—­You told me you were deaf in one ear.

Bartolo—­I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, if I’ve been surly and suspicious, Signor Alonzo:  I’m surrounded with spies—­and then your figure, your age, your whole air—­I beg your pardon.  Well?  Have you the letter?

Count—­I’m glad you’re barely civil at last, sir.  But are you quite sure no one can overhear us?

Bartolo—­Not a soul.  My servants are all tired out.  Senorita Rosina has shut herself up in a rage!  The very devil’s to pay in this house.  Still I’ll go and make sure. [He goes to peep into Rosina’s room.]