Scarcely has she gone, when Susuki is startled by a knock at the door. Pinkerton has come—and the Consul with him, but they tell the maid not to summon her mistress—not yet.
The music of the flower-duet fills the air like a faint perfume as Pinkerton observes the withered blossoms, and Susuki explains the decorations and tells of Butterfly's weary vigil. A moment later she sees through the window a lady waiting in the garden.
It is Pinkerton's wife.
"Hallowed souls of our fathers! The world is plunged in gloom!"
Susuki falls prostrate on her knees.
The ensuing trio is a magnificent musical unfoldment of sympathy from the Consul, remorse from Pinkerton, and consternation from Susuki. It is a splendid mingling of emotion and melody.
The two men are left alone as the maid goes out to speak with the new wife. Pinkerton acts properly distressed over the situation, and his friend, being only human, cannot refrain from saying, "I told you so," whereupon the music of his warning remonstrance in the first act is plainly marked in the orchestra, like an underscoring to written words.
Pinkerton sighs over the room and its associations, sheds a few tears, and then decides the strain is too great for him. As he leaves the house, his wife and Susuki walk into view at the window.
At this moment Butterfly comes rushing down the stairs; she has heard voices—"he is here!"
Susuki tries to ward off the evil moment, but the hour has struck. The tragic theme rises up supreme—revealing itself in unclothed hideousness: all the other themes have fallen away; they were as mere empty masks over the face of truth—behind life is always death—back of the smile is a skeleton.