_Countess._ Wherever you meet One of them, be certain you shall find a Pair. (_They salute the Countess_)--The Bridesmen and Maids wait for you, Figaro. _Figaro._ I will take my excuse in my hand--(_Going to lead out Susan_)--Few offenders can plead so charming a one. _Countess._ No, no; stop Susan: I want you--She shall come presently. (_Exit Figaro_).--Well, Susan, the time approaches, we must prepare for the Rendezvous. {{_Susan._ “I must not go, Madam, Figaro is unwilling. _Countess._ (_Angry_). “Figaro!--Figaro is not so scrupulous when a Marriage-portion is in question--That’s a poor Pretence; you are sorry you have told the truth, and discovered the Intentions of the Count.--Go, go--I am not to be so deceived. (_Going_). _Susan._ (_Catching hold of her and kneeling_). “Ah, Madam! Let me conjure you to hear me, to pardon me.--How can you think me capable of deceiving so good, so liberal a Lady, whose bounties I have so often felt!----Oh, no; it is because I have promised Figaro. _Countess._ (_Mildly and Smiling_). “Rise--Hast thou forgot, silly Girl, that it is I who am to go and not thee.--(_Kisses her forehead_)--But--I was too hasty. _Susan._ “My dear, my generous Mistress.”}} _Countess._ And what is the place of Rendezvous? _Susan._ The Pavilion in the Garden. _Countess._ There are two. _Susan._ But they are opposite. _Countess._ True--At what hour? _Susan._ I don’t know. _Countess._ That must be fixed--Sit down, take the pen and write-- (_Susan sits down, the Countess dictates_) A NEW SONG, To the Tune of, _The Twilight past, the Bell had toll’d_. _Susan._ (_Writes_). New song--Tune of--Bell had toll’d--What next, Madam? _Countess._ Dost think he will not understand thee? _Susan._ (_Looking archly at the Countess_). Very true--(_Folding up the Letter_)--But here is neither Wax nor Wafer. _Countess._ Fasten it with a Pin, and write on the direction, _Return the Seal_. (_Smiling._) _Susan._ (_Laughs_) The Seal!--(_Gets up._)--This is not quite so serious as the Commission just now was. _Countess._ (_Sighs_). Ah, Susan. _Susan._ I have never a Pin. _Countess._ Take this. (_Gives her one which fastened the Page’s riband to her breast; it falls._) _Susan._ (_Picking up the riband_) This is the Page’s riband, Madam. _Countess._ Wouldst thou have me let him wear it? It will do for Agnes; I will give it her the first Bouquet she presents me. (_Just as the Countess has said this, Agnes and a troop of young Maidens, among them the Page, in girl’s cloaths, enter with nosegays for the Countess, who instantly puts the riband in her pocket, with an evident wish, by her looks and action, to preserve it._) _Countess._ (_Looking at the Page_) What pretty maiden is this? _Agnes._ A Cousin of mine, Madam, that we have invited to the Wedding.