ding gown of white and her pale cheeks are
touched up with carmine. The paper partitions are drawn against the
night. Butterfly punctures the shoji with three holes--one high up for
herself to look through, standing; one lower for the maid to look
through, sitting; one near the floor for the baby. And so Butterfly
stands in an all-night vigil. The lanterns flicker and go out. Maid and
babe sink down in sleep. The gray dawn creeps over the waters of the
harbor. Human voices, transformed into instruments, hum a barcarolle.
(We heard it when Sharpless tried to read the letter.) A Japanese tune
rises like a sailors' chanty from the band. Mariners chant their "Yo
ho!" Day is come. Suzuki awakes and begs her mistress to seek rest.
Butterfly puts the baby to bed, singing a lullaby. Sharpless and
Pinkerton come and learn of the vigil from Suzuki, who sees the form of
a lady in the garden and hears that it is the American wife of
Pinkerton. Pinkerton pours out his remorse melodiously. He will be
haunted forever by the picture of his once happy home and Cio-Cio-San's
reproachful eyes. He leaves money for Butterfly in the consul's hands
and runs away like a coward. Kate, the American wife, and Suzuki meet
in the garden. The maid is asked to tell her mistress the meaning of
the visit, but before she can do so Butterfly sees them. Her questions
bring out half the truth; her intuition tells her the rest. Kate (an
awful blot she is on the dramatic picture) begs forgiveness and asks
for the baby boy that her husband may rear him. Butterfly says he shall
have him in half an hour if he will come to fetch him. She goes to the
shrine of Buddha and takes from it a veil and a dagger, reading the
words engraved on its blade: "To die with honor when one can no longer
live with honor." It is the weapon which the Mikado had sent to her
father. She points the weapon at her throat, but at the moment Suzuki
pushes the baby into the room. Butterfly addresses it passionately;
then, telling it to play, seats it upon a stool, puts an American flag
into its hands, a bandage around its eyes. Again she takes dagger and
veil and goes behind a screen. The dagger is heard to fall. Butterfly
totters out from behind the screen with a veil wound round her neck.
She staggers to the child and falls, dying, at its feet. Pinkerton
rushes in with a cry of horror and falls on his knees, while Sharpless
gently takes up the child.

I have no desire to comment dispa