Butterfly received the Consul with joy; and on hearing that he had a letter from Pinkerton, she clapped her hands and became very excited, declaring that her hopes were about to be realised, and that her beloved husband was really returning to her, as she had never for a moment doubted, or ceased to believe. Her eager anticipation and childish delight quite unmanned the tender-hearted Sharpless, who now saw only too plainly how right he had been when warning Pinkerton that the Japanese maiden regarded their marriage as a binding one, and that her love was a deep and abiding passion, the very breath of life to her; and though he essayed many times to explain his cruel mission, his efforts to do so were quite in vain. For, upon every sentence he read from the letter, Butterfly put her own happy construction, finding in each line an imaginary message of hope for herself; and so vivid was her delusion, that Sharpless despaired of ever making her realise the fatal truth.
He was therefore somewhat relieved by the unexpected appearance of old Goro, the marriage broker, who brought with him Prince Yamadori, a wealthy Japanese suitor, whom he had for a long time past tried vainly to induce the deserted wife to accept as a husband, for one so young and pretty was still a tempting prize to offer to his amorous clients. Yamadori had now come to plead his own cause with the obdurate Butterfly, who, however, still refused to listen to him; and, full of indignation, she turned to Sharpless, and cried "You hear what he and that wicked Goro wish me to do! How can I marry him, when I have a beloved husband already, who is now returning to claim me once again?"
Even when Goro, eager to secure her for his wealthy client, reminded her that in Japan desertion constituted divorce, and that she was therefore perfectly free to marry again, she was not to be convinced, but declared scornfully: "But the law of Japan is not the law of my husband's country!"
Seeing that argument was useless in her present state, old Goro and his disappointed client withdrew, hoping for better success on their next visit; and when they had gone, Sharpless, distressed beyond measure at the poor girl's absolute blindness to the fact that Pinkerton had really deserted her, and that he had never even regarded his marriage with her in a serious light at all, but merely as a pleasant interlude made possible by the easy law of Japan, again tried to tell her the real reason for his visit. Having once more dismally failed in this, he next tried to persuade her to accept the wealthy Japanese suitor who desired to make her his bride; but such a suggestion coming from one she trusted so deeply wounded her that he did not venture to press the point.
As the final strengthening of her argument, and crowning proof of the utter uselessness of trying to persuade her that she was forgotten, Butterfly ran to fetch her bonny baby boy, and, holding him up before the eyes of the amazed Consul, who had no idea of the child's existence, cried with passionate pride: "Do you think he could forget this proof of our love?"
Sharpless, knowing that Pinkerton had no knowledge that a son had been born to him, was now so overcome with deep emotion that he could scarcely control his feelings of pity for the deserted little Japanese wife; and, utterly unable to reveal the truth to her just then, he hastily took his leave, inwardly railing at his friend for entrusting him with such an impossible mission.
No sooner had the Consul departed than the roar of cannon was heard from the harbour; and, hurrying to the terrace, Butterfly discovered that this was a salute to an arriving ship, which, to her indescribable joy, she saw was flying the American flag, and by the aid of a telescope made out its name to be the Abraham Lincoln, which she knew to be Pinkerton's vessel. Full of delirious joy, and feeling fully convinced that her beloved one would now without doubt be with her in an hour or two's time, she called to Suzuki, and bade her to quickly bring in the fairest flowers from the garden, that she might adorn the little home with garlands in honour of the master's return.
Though Suzuki had still no belief that the young American would return, she went in haste to gather the flowers, in order to humour her beloved mistress; and as quickly as she brought the lovely fragrant blooms into the house, Butterfly placed them in every available space, calling continually for more, until each room was a perfect bower of roses, violets, lilies, and blossoms of every kind the garden could produce.
Having even strewed sweet-scented petals lavishly upon the floors, Butterfly next dressed her baby in his finest clothes, and arrayed herself in her wedding garments; and then, calling Suzuki, and making three holes in the shoshi, the three settled down to watch for Pinkerton's approach. Many hours passed, and still the expected visitor did not appear; and when darkness set in, Suzuki and the child, tired out with watching, fell fast asleep. But Butterfly would not sleep; and all through the long weary night, she kept a constant watch, never losing hope, but still believing that her beloved one would surely come.