Sciarrone rushes in much perturbed. He brings bad news. The victory they have been celebrating has turned into defeat. Bonaparte has triumphed at Marengo. Cavaradossi is roused to enthusiasm by the tidings. "Tremble, Scarpia, thou butcherly hypocrite," he cries.
It is his death warrant. At Scarpia's command Sciarrone and the agents seize him and drag him away to be hanged.
Quietly seating himself at table, Scarpia invites Tosca to a chair. Perhaps they can discover a plan by which Cavaradossi may be saved. He carefully polishes a wineglass with a napkin, fills it with wine, and pushes it toward her.
"Your price?" she asks, contemptuously.
Imperturbably he fills his glass. She is the price that must be paid for Cavaradossi's life. The horror with which she shrinks from the proposal, her unfeigned detestation of the man putting it forward, make her seem the more fascinating to him. There is a sound of distant drums. It is the escort that will conduct Cavaradossi to the scaffold. Scarpia has almost finished supper. Imperturbably he peels an apple and cuts it in quarters, occasionally looking up and scanning his chosen victim's features.
Distracted, not knowing whither or to whom to turn, Tosca now utters the famous "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore, non feci mai male ad anima viva":
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(Music and love—these have I lived for, Nor ever have I harmed a living being.... In this, my hour of grief and bitter tribulation, O, Heavenly Father, why hast Thou forsaken me), |
The "Vissi d'arte" justly is considered the most beautiful air in the repertoire of modern Italian opera. It is to passages of surpassing eloquence like this that Puccini owes his fame, and his operas are indebted for their lasting power of appeal.
Beginning quietly, "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,"
