DAVID BELASCO, JOHN LUTHER LONG
663
what I—as' you do . . . an'— an' what he say?
Sharpless. Well . . . (Taking out the envelope, and giving her the money which she takes without looking at it.) He said—er—he was crazy to see you and—(Aside) What the devil can I say! (To her.) You know he can't leave the ship just yet. (Pointing to the package in her hand.) That is in remembrance of the past. He wishes you to be always happy, to have the best of luck; he hopes to see you soon—and—(The lies die out on his lips.)
Madame Butterfly. (Bending and kissing his hand.) All—all the gods in the heavens bless you!
(Overcome, she staggers. Sharpless catches her, puts her into the chair—she leans against him—her face upraised, her eyes closed.)
(Kate, entering hurriedly.)
Kate. Has Lieutenant Pinkerton gone? Has my husband been here?
(Madame Butterfly hears and opens her eyes.)
Sharpless. For God's sake—(He looks at Madame Butterfly whose eyes are fixed on his with a look of despair.) Come, we can overtake him.
Kate. (In a lower voice.) Did he speak to her of the—
Sharpless. No.
Kate. Then I will ask. (For the first time seeing Madame Butterfly.) Is this—(Sharpless nods and goes. There is a short pause, while the two women look at each other, then Madame Butterfly, still seated, slowly bows her head.) Why, you poor little thing . . . who in the world could blame you or . . . call you responsible . . . you pretty little plaything.
(Takes Madame Butterfly in her arms.)
Madame Butterfly. (Softly.) No—playthin' . . . I am Mrs. Lef-ten-ant B. F.—No—no—now I am, only—Cho-Cho-San, but no playthin'. . . . (She rises, then impassively.) How long you been marry?
Kate. Four months. . . .
Madame Butterfly. (Counting on her fingers.) Oh . . . four.
Kate. Won't you let me do something for the child? Where is he?(Madame Butterfly gestures toward the next room. Kate, seeing the child.) Ah! The dear little thing! May I—
Madame Butterfly. No! Can look . . . no can touch. . . .
Kate. Let us think first of the child. For his own good . . . let me take him home to my country, . . . I will do all I would do for my own.
Madame Butterfly. (Showing no emotion.) He not know then—me—his mother?
Kate. It's hard, very hard, I know; but would it not be better?
Madame Butterfly. (Taking the money box from her sleeve, and giving the coins to Kate.) Tha's his . . . two dollar. All tha's lef of his moaneys. . . . I shall need no more. . . . (She hands Kate the envelope which Sharpless has just given.) I lig if you also say I sawry—no—no—no—glad—glad! I wish him that same happiness lig he wish for me . . . an' tell him . . . I shall be happy . . . mebby. Thang him . . . Mister B. F. Pik-ker-ton for also that kindness he have been unto me . . . an' permit me to thang you, augustness, for that same. . . . You—you mos' bes' lucky girl in these whole worl'. . . . Goon-night—
(She stands stolidly with her eyes closed.)
Kate. (Wiping her eyes.) But the child?
Madame Butterfly. Come back fifteen minute. . . . (With closed eyes, she bows politely.) Sayonara. (Kate reluctantly goes.) God he'p me, but no sun kin shine. (Suzuki, who has listened, sinks at Madame Butterfly's feet.) Don' cry, Suzuki, liddle maiden . . . accoun' I dizappoint, a liddle dizappoint'—don' cry. . . . (Running her hand over Suzuki's head—as she kneels.) Tha's short while ago you as' me res'—sleep. . . . (Wearily.) Well—go way an' I will res' now. . . . I wish res'—sleep . . . long sleep . . . an' when you see me again, I pray you look whether I be not beautiful again . . . as a bride.
Suzuki. (Understanding, sobbing.) No—no—no.
Madame Butterfly. So that I suffer no more—goon bye, liddle maiden. (Suzuki does not go. Madame Butterfly claps her hands, and sobbing, Suzuki leaves the room. Madame Butterfly bolts the shoji, and the door, lights fresh incense before the shrine, takes down her
