Suzuki, her maid, when she hints that she never
knew a foreign husband to come back to a Japanese wife. But Pinkerton
when he sailed away had said that he would be back "when the robins
nest again," and that suffices Cio-Cio-San. But when Sharpless comes
with a letter to break the news that his friend is coming back with an
American wife, he loses courage to perform his mission at the
contemplation of the little woman's faith in the truant. Does he know
when the robins nest in America? In Japan they had nested three times
since Pinkerton went away. The consul quails at that and damns his
friend as a scoundrel. Now Goro, who knows Butterfly's pecuniary
plight, brings Yamadori to her. Yamadori is a wealthy Japanese citizen
of New York in the book and play and a prince in the opera, but in all
he is smitten with Butterfly's beauty and wants to add her name to the
list of wives he has conveniently married and as conveniently divorced
on his visits to his native land. Butterfly insists that she is an
American and cannot be divorced Japanese fashion, and is amazed when
Sharpless hints that Pinkerton might have forgotten her and she would
better accept Yamadori's hand.

First she orders him out of the house, but, repenting her of her
rudeness, brings in the child to show him something that no one is
likely to forget. She asks the consul to write to his friend and tell
him that he has a son, so fine a son, indeed, that she indulges in a
day dream of the Mikado stopping at the head of his troops to admire
him and make him a prince of the realm. Sharpless goes away with his
mission unfulfilled and Suzuki comes in dragging Goro with her, for
that he had been spreading scandalous tales about the treatment which
children born like this child receive in America. Butterfly is tempted
to kill the wretch, but at the last is content to spurn him with her
foot.

At this moment a cannon shot is heard. A man-of-war is entering the
harbor. Quick, the glasses! "Steady my hand, Suzuki, that I may read
the name." It is the Abraham Lincoln, Pinkerton's ship! Now the cherry
tree must give up its every blossom, every bush or vine its violets and
jessamines to garnish the room for his welcome! The garden is stripped
bare, vases are filled, the floor is strewn with petals. Perfumes
exhale from the voices of the women and the song of the orchestra. Here
local color loses its right; the music is all Occidental. Butterfly is
dressed again in her wed