The Consul waits until Yamadori has gone, then bravely tries to read the letter, but his eager listener is too excited to hear to the end.
"He is coming!" That is enough! Her joy is unbounded. She speeds from the room and in a moment returns with a sunny-haired child on her shoulders—her "baby-boy!"—her "noble little American!"—to whom she tells the glad news that his father soon will return.
The distressed Consul has not the heart to enlighten her further. He leaves rather abruptly.
A moment later a signal gun is heard in the distance.
Susuki plunges in, breathless;—"The harbor cannon!" Both women rush to the window. They can see the ship! A man-of-war! The Stars and Stripes!
Oh, the pain of this joy! The audience, knowing all, is torn and racked with emotion as the orchestra reiterates Butterfly's recent song of confidence about "his sure return."
Now is her "hour of triumph!" She proclaims it to high heaven—to Susuki—and to all "the eight hundred thousand gods and goddesses of Japan."
All the world had told her he would forget and never return—but she knew!—she knew! Now, at last, her faith triumphs—he is here!
Superb is the crescendo now sweeping upward on the crest of America's martial theme. The Star-Spangled Banner is bugled by the instruments, while Butterfly's voice, in high and jubilant accord, sings again the glad words: "He is here!—he loves me!"
In the orchestra the love-theme—the great theme—arises slowly and passes by like a spirit of the past, a soul long dead, a memory faded.