What must Pedro think? That she, his faithful little Carmen, has betrayed him and Rey?
Where are the castanets? Carmen knows well that she brought them with her. Someone has stolen them.
Suddenly Carmen remembers the figure she saw behind the tree that day in the meadow.
Down there, close to the fence, she sees the same man! It is the jealous torero.
He passes by, his set face wickedly content, and to Carmen's keen ears comes a familiar sound. From the man's pocket, faint, yet unmistakable, she hears the click of her castanets.
Carmen is out of her seat, past the guards, and inside that dangerous arena. A gasp goes through the audience—a horrified shudder. But Carmen, her black eyes snapping, is as dangerous now as any wild bull.
She has caught the man by the arm, swung him around, and snatched from his pocket her castanets.
Now she stands very still. With her small body drawn up straight and taut, she begins to play.
Pedro is fighting desperately. But everybody knows that soon it must be man or beast. The torero must kill or be killed. The audience is breathless.
Carmen's castanets sing shrilly, with a rolling trill, and, all at once, Rey lifts his massive head and listens. The call is sweet. It speaks to him of pleasant things.