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| Columbina: Oh, signor Pantalone! Thank goodness you've come! She's ill. Oh, she's deathly ill! Pantalone: She does look a bit pale . . . Capitano: Ah, she pines for the love of me. Pantalone: When did this malady come upon her? Columbina: This afternoon, right after he left. Capitano: Me? B-b-b-but I-I-I-I-I . . . Columbina: The Don is gone, but the malady lingers on. Capitano: But, signor Pantalone, I give you my word! I never laid a finger on her! Isabella: (weakly) Papa . . . (Pantalone kneels beside her.) Pantalone: Yes, my child? Isabella: The Capitano speaks the truth. Capitano: Listen to her! Isabella: It wasn't his finger . . . |