{{_Susan._ “Dear Madam, if you had but seen yourself when I bounced out upon my Lord! So pale, such Terror in your Countenance! And then your suddenly assumed tranquillity! _Countess._ “Oh no, every Faculty was lost in my Fears. _Susan._ “I assure your Ladyship to the contrary; in a few Lessons you would learn to dissemble and fib with as good a Grace as any Lady in the Land.”}} _Countess._ And so that poor Child jumped out of the Window? _Susan._ Without the least hesitation--as light and as chearful as a Linnet. _Countess._ I wish however I could convict my false Count of his Infidelity. _Susan._ The Page will never dare, after this, to make a second attempt. _Countess._ Ha!--A lucky project! I will meet him myself; and then nobody will be exposed. _Susan._ But suppose, Madam-- _Countess._ My Success has emboldened me, and I am determined to try--(_Sees the Riband left on the chair_) What’s here? My Riband! I will keep it as a Memento of the danger to which that poor Youth--{{“Ah my Lord--Yet let me have a care, let me look to myself, to my own Conduct, lest I should give occasion to say--Ah my Lady!”}} (_The Countess puts the Riband in her Pocket._) You must not mention a Word of this, Susan, to any body. _Susan._ Except Figaro. _Countess._ No exceptions, he must not be told; he will spoil it, by mixing some plot of his own with it--I have promised thee a Portion thou knowest--these men are liberal in their Pleasures--Perhaps I may double it for thee; it will be Susan’s Right. _Susan._ Your Project is a charming one, Madam, and I shall yet have my Figaro. [_Exit Susan, kissing the Countess’s Hand._ End of ACT II. ACT III. SCENE, the Great Hall. (_A Judge’s Chair, four other Chairs, Benches with red Baize, a Table and a Stool, with Pen, Ink and Paper._) _Enter the_ COUNT, _dressed, and a_ SERVANT, _booted._ _Count._ Ride to Seville with all speed; enquire if the Page has joined his Regiment, and at what o’clock precisely he arrived; give him this Commission, and return like lightening. _Servant._ And if he is not there-- _Count._ Return still quicker.--Go; fly!----(_Exit Servant_)--I was wrong to send Basil out of the way--He might have been very serviceable--But Anger was never wise--I scarcely know at present what I wish--When once the Passions have obtained the Mastery, there is no Mind, however consistent, but becomes as wild and incongruous as a Dream--If the Countess, Susan, and Figaro should understand each other and plot to betray me!--If the Page _was_ shut up in her dressing-room--Oh! no!--The Respect she bears herself--my Honor!--My Honor? And in my Wife’s keeping?--Honor in a Woman’s possession, like Ice Cream in the mouth, melts away in a contest of Pleasure and Pain--I will sound Figaro, however. _Enter_ FIGARO, _behind_. _Figaro._ Here am I. (_Aside._) _Count._ And if I have reason to suppose them plotting against me, he shall marry Marcelina.