_Agnes._ (_Pointing to the Page_) Have you forgiven what happened yesterday, my Lord? _Count._ (_Afraid lest the Countess should hear, and chucking Agnes under the chin_) Hush! _Figaro._ (_To the Page_) What’s the matter, young Hannibal the brave? What makes you so silent? _Susan._ He is sorrowful because my Lord is going to send him from the castle. _Omnes._ Oh pray, my Lord! _Countess._ Let me beg you will forgive him. _Count._ He does not deserve to be forgiven. _Countess._ Consider, he is so young. _Count._ (_Half aside_) Not so young, perhaps, as you suppose. _Page._ My Lord certainly has not ceded away the right to pardon. _Susan._ And if he had, that would certainly be the first he would _secretly_ endeavour to reclaim. (_Looking significantly at the Count and Figaro, by turns._) _Count._ (_Understanding her_) No doubt: no doubt. _Page._ My conduct, my Lord, may have been indiscreet, but I can assure your Lordship, that never the least word shall pass my lips---- _Count._ (_Interrupting him_) Enough, enough--Since every body begs for him, I must grant--I shall moreover give him a Company in my Regiment. _Omnes._ Thanks noble Count. _Count._ But on condition that he depart immediately for Catalonia to join the Corps. _Omnes._ Oh my Lord? _Figaro._ To-morrow my Lord. _Count._ To day! It shall be so. (_To the Page_) Take leave of your Godmother, and beg her protection. (_The Page kneels to the Countess with a sorrowful air. As he approaches to kneel, he goes very slowly and Figaro gently pushes him forward._) _Fig._ Go, go, Child; go. _Countess._ (_With great emotion_) Since--it is not possible--to obtain leave--for you to remain here to-day, depart, young man, and follow the noble career which lies before you--Forget not those with whom you have spent some of the first years of your life, and among whom you have friends who wish you every success--Go where Fortune and Glory call--Be obedient, polite, and brave, and be certain we shall take part in your Prosperity. (_Raises him._ _Count._ You seem agitated Madam. _Countess._ How can I help it, recollecting the perils to which his youth must be exposed? He has been bred in the same house with me, is of the same kindred, and is likewise my Godson. _Count._ (_Aside_) Basil I see was in the right.---- (_Turns to the Page_) Go, kiss Susan for the last time. (_The Page and Susan approach, Figaro steps between them and intercepts the Page._)