And out into the pelting rain he rushed, while the little tigress, somewhat accusing herself of hastiness, went slowly to her room. At first there was nothing heard but the rain; then “click, click,” the turning of a key in a lock. Then the window opened slowly, and with light jumps, in came the count and the barber. And at this very moment, Don Basilio, drenched to his very fingers’ ends, was stalking along the street, towards the doctor’s, and with him was a notary, who with reluctance had left his house. And at this very moment, also, Dr. Bartolo was full three streets off, laying a complaint before the Alcade. “Rosina--Rosina!” cried Figaro. “Rosina--Rosina!” cried the count. No answer. “Why, where can she be?” cried both together. She had not, of course, meant to come; but hope is strong, and so at this precise moment she came softly into the room. “Dear Rosina!” “Stand back, Senor,--I but come here to tell you, you have lost me.” “Can I believe my precious senses!” exclaimed the barber. “Rosina!” “Peace, Senor. Did you not pretend to love me, that you might betray me?” “And to whom?” “The Count Almaviva.” “Ah--good!” said Figaro to himself. “Then thou didst love Lindoro?” “Too well.” “Then thou didst love the count?” “The count!” “Rosina--yes--the count is thy Lindoro.” “And Lindoro is the count,” said Figaro. The bliss of these young people was soon ended--for alas! Figaro, who, as a general precaution, was looking on all sides and on all levels, saw from the balcony one lantern and two persons down below at the door! “Quick--the ladder,” shouted he, and instinctively he felt for it. Gone--vanished. Even Figaro was disconcerted. Footsteps! The one lantern and the two persons. Don Basilio and the notary. “Noble Dr. Bartolo,” whispered the gaunt man. Figaro slipped quickly round the new comers, and then said softly to the count--“’Tis the scamp Basilio and our notary. Cheer up, leave all to me.” Then aloud he added, “Good evening, gentlemen,--I pray you place the lantern on the table here. Senor notary! this evening at my house you were to see a contract signed between the Count Almaviva and my niece.--Well, here are you and I, the count, and also, here’s my niece.” “But where’s the doctor?” said Basilio, to whom Figaro, handing him a ring from the count’s hand, “Put this ring upon your hand, And let no more be said, Or the next report may be, You’re shot clean through the head.” Don Basilio saw the force of the argument, and accepted the ring. Then there was the scratching of pens, and the signing of names, and in less time than it takes to record the fact, Rosina was a wife! And at this moment arrived Doctor Bartolo, with a posse of people--the Alcade, and one, two, three--a whole regiment of alguazils. “Arrest them, arrest them all.” “What me. Figaro--arrest me!” “I say arrest them all, they all are thieves.”