Cho-Cho-San, a maiden of the Flowery Kingdom, has been wed to Lieut. Pinkerton, an American naval officer. Two months after the wedding Pinkerton sails away, promising his wife, “Madame Butterfly,” as he calls her, to return when “the robins nest again.” To the officer the marriage has been but a love affair of the moment to be forgotten with his departure. But to Madame Butterfly it was a real and lasting compact. In her loving, trusting heart she had no doubt that he would return. So in the little house at the foot of the hill where their joyous honeymoon had been spent, she waited for him to come back to her. A baby was born and the mother thought with happy anticipation of the time when her husband would see his child. Two years pass and still the little wife is waiting, waiting for “the robins to nest again.” She is deaf to the proposals of the wealthy Yamadori, an Americanized Japanese, who would marry her though the people about her, even her own parents, look upon her as an outcast. So when the American consul comes to her to tell her that Lieut. Pinkerton, whose ship is due to arrive soon, has taken an American wife, the sweetheart of his youth, the ingenuous faith of Madame Butterfly so touches him that he cannot perform his task. But Cho-Cho-San learns that the ship is due and joyfully makes the home ready for its lord and master. Night comes and the lamps are lit. The servant and the baby fall asleep, but Madame Butterfly continues her vigil, while the lights, like her hopes, die out and only one remains when morning comes. Then she goes to her bedroom and Pinkerton and the consul enter. As Madame Butterfly returns to the room with the baby, the lieutenant is overcome with pity and withdraws unobserved. The consul then tells her the sad truth and gives her money given to him for her by her husband. The girl sinks grief-stricken to the floor. Pinkerton’s American wife enters and tries to comfort her, but Madame Butterfly gives her the lieutenant’s money, bidding her return later. Then, drawing the curtains, she prepares for suicide. She has taken the sword of her father from the wall and is about to plunge it into her breast when her baby toddles over to her. Lest the child should see, she blindfolds its eyes and returns behind the curtain. Then Madame Butterfly staggers forth, a cloth about her bleeding throat. She has clasped the child to her breast as Pinkerton enters and embraces the dying girl whose face is illuminated with infinite happiness.