Just as the hilarity was at its height, however, there came an unexpected interruption; for suddenly an uncouth individual of weird aspect burst in amongst the guests, wildly brandishing his arms, and uttering cries of furious rage. This unwelcome intruder was Butterfly's most important uncle, a Bonze, or Japanese priest, who, having by some means learnt of his niece's visit to the hated Christian mission, had now come to denounce her for her apostasy; and, alarmed at the threatening aspect of one whom they held in awe, the guests drew back in frightened groups. Butterfly, in fear and trembling, also tried to crouch from the sight of her outraged relative; but the Bonze sought her out, and ruthlessly declaring to the relations that she had of her own free will renounced them all and forsaken the religion of her forefathers, he furiously called down curses upon her, in which he was immediately joined by the now angry guests, in whose eyes such an offence was unpardonable.
Pinkerton had at first laughed at the extravagant speeches and ridiculous gesticulations of the weird-looking Bonze; but when the relations took up the denunciation also, he grew angry, and unceremoniously turned them all out of the house.
As the imprecations of the departing guests died away in the distance, poor little Butterfly buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears; but Pinkerton folded her in his arms, and soon succeeded in restoring her to smiles and joyousness once more.
"I do not mind anything, if you will only love me!" she said, as she kissed his hand with quaint humility. "Though they have cast me off, yet am I full of joy! I am with you; and you are my people and my life!"
Night had now closed in, and as they presently wandered out together on to the moonlit terrace, Pinkerton folded his fair bride in his arms in a passionate embrace; and in that moment of ecstasy, the lovers felt that the world was indeed well lost.
A period of intense happiness now followed; but, alas! it was but a short one. For Pinkerton's love for his little Japanese wife, though passionate at the time, was, as Sharpless had declared, but a passing phase; and when, after a few months had drifted pleasantly by in this pretty dream, his ship had received orders to return to America, he had departed with little real regret. For he did not intend to return to the nest he was now deserting for ever; and in his careless way he felt no compunctions, for he believed that the pretty Butterfly would as easily forget him, and eventually take unto herself a Japanese husband. Yet to ease the pain of his departure, he promised the weeping girl that he would return to her when the robins began to nest; and Butterfly, believing implicitly in this promise, was satisfied, and daily declared to her faithful maid and sole companion, Suzuki, who had no such trusting faith, that this happy event would certainly come to pass.
Later on, when a fair, blue-eyed baby boy was born to her, she rejoiced at the little one's birth the more because of the additional pleasure she felt was in store for the surely-returning father; and even when three years had passed since her wedding-day, and no word had yet come from the faithless Pinkerton, she still hoped and waited patiently, confident that her hopes would be realised. It was quite useless for the handmaid, Suzuki, whose knowledge of such "marriages" was wider, to suggest to her mistress that her hope was a vain one; for the trusting little Butterfly would only grow angry, and refuse to listen to her.
But, at last, the money which Pinkerton had left for their temporary support (thinking that they would soon be established in some other household) became exhausted; and now, towards the end of the third year, they found themselves within a few coins of destitution. Even on the day when this sad discovery was made, the deserted little bride bid her handmaid not to trouble, since the waiting-time would now soon be over; and rousing herself up to a transport of happy expectation, she reminded Suzuki of Pinkerton's promise to return when the robins should nest, and carried away by her eager thoughts, began to describe the arrival of the expected ship, from which her beloved husband would most assuredly land and hasten to her side.
But Suzuki, knowing that the robins had already nested several times since the young officer's departure, only muttered gloomily that it was not known for a Western husband to return to a Japanese nest; but when on hearing this Butterfly sprang up with eyes blazing with anger, to soothe and comfort her once more the faithful handmaid repeated the eager girl's own hopeful words.
Whilst they were thus talking, a visitor suddenly appeared; and to the delight of Butterfly, this proved to be none other than Sharpless, the American Consul, who had come on a very difficult mission. For he had just received a message from Pinkerton, who was returning at last to Nagasaki, and whose ship was expected to arrive that very day; and in this letter the young lieutenant announced that he was now married to a beautiful American lady, and asked his old friend to seek out the pretty Butterfly, and if she still remembered him, to break this news as gently as he could.