“Oh! oh! a man!--oh my goodness! a man,--oh take me away--a man! oh I never!” Here there was another laugh. Here the don congratulated himself more than ever. And here, also, the Doctor said to himself, “Poor old fellow.” Then he added, “Don’t be afraid, sister, this is the noble Don Pasquale.” “Oh indeed!” Don Pasquale made as low a bow as a stout old gentleman could. The timid young lady made him a sweeping curtesy. “Thank you, sir--your most obedient. Oh, oh.” Here the don was taking her hand. “Oh loving hand,” muttered the old don. And while he pranced off after three chairs, there was another laugh, suppressed, from under the veil. Each chair the doctor set down with a puff and a bang, and at last he sat himself down in the center one. “What do you think of her?” (in a low voice to the don.) “What indeed! But that veil?” (in a lower voice to the doctor.) “Oh! she would not dare to speak to a man, unveiled. Talk to her a little; see if your dispositions agree. Then we will question the veil.” “Hum--hum--(courage, don, courage)--Am delighted--have the honor--your brother--Dr. Malatesta--pray did you speak?” Here she got up and made him another curtesy. “Oh--sir your most obedient--sir.” “I was going to say, no doubt you like company of an evening.” “Oh _dear_ no. We never do at the convent. We always go to bed.” “Ah, but you _some_times went to the theatre?” “Oh!--dear,--what--is--that? I’m sure--I never _wished_ to go there.” “Delightful,” thought the old don, and added, “And pray, now, how did you pass your time?” “Oh, sir, in sewing, and knitting, and embroidering, and sometimes I played with the pretty little cats.” “Ah, ah.” (doctor.) “Dear me, doctor, pray be still; ’tis rude to laugh, even at one’s sister. But doctor, that veil!” “Dear sister, remove thy veil.” “Oh! no, I couldn’t--before a man.” “But I bid you.” “Oh yes--oh yes, brother--I obey.” The don rose in honor of this act, but no sooner did he see the dove-like face, than he fell upon his seat again with a crash. “Pray, Don Pasquale, what’s the matter?” “Can’t tell, doctor. But it seemed to go right through me--speak for me, doctor. Tell her how I love her.” “Courage, old friend. She does not seem indisposed towards thee. Now tell me, sister--this gentleman--do you like him?” After casting a glance at the don who was admiring his own legs, she said. “--I--I--I think I do.” “She consents, don; she is yours!” “Oh bliss; oh joy; oh delight, oh!” Here came another of those mysterious laughs. Said then the don in a loud voice (when he had recovered it,) “A notary.” “Ah, don, a notary is not like a glass of wine, ever at hand; but anticipating this joyful moment, I have brought a notary with us.” “Quick, quick, quick,” said the don. “Yes, yes, yes,” replied the doctor, and running; but he returned immediately, with the false notary, Nephew Charles.