mself together, take his shako, and
go back to his men. Presently he decides that he will go, and starts
toward the door, when there comes a knocking.
"What's that?" he whispers, pausing; but almost at the moment, Zuniga,
looking for Carmen, opens the door.
"Fie, Carmen! Is this your taste?" the captain laughs, pointing to
Jose. Jose is only a corporal, while Zuniga, being a captain, feels in
a corporal's presence like a general at the very least.
"Come on, get out," he demands of Jose.
"No," Jose answers. "I think not," and there is no doubt he means it.
Then the men begin to fight. Carmen, desiring to have one of them to
torment, throws herself between them. Her screams bring the gipsies
and smugglers.
"Seize the captain," she cries, and Zuniga is seized and tied. He
roars and fumes and threatens, but the smugglers carry him off. This
puts Jose in a truly bad way. How can he return and tell Zuniga's men
what has happened? and then when Zuniga is free he will be tried by
court-martial and suffer the worst, beyond doubt.
"Now then, Jose. What about it? You can't go back to your company,
eh?"
"This is horrible," he tells her. "I am a ruined man."
"Then come with us and make the best of it," she cries, and Fate
scores again.
ACT III
Disgraced, there is nothing left for Jose but to go away to the
smugglers' retreat in the mountains. There, in a cave looking out to
sea, well located above the valley for smuggling operations, all the
gipsies and the smugglers, headed by El Dancairo, lie waiting for the
hour when they can go out without being caught. There, too, is Don
Jose, sitting gloomily apart, cut off from all that is good,
dishonoured and so distressed that he is no longer a good companion.
Carmen looks at him, and feels angry because he seems to be
indifferent to her.
"What do you see, that you sit staring down there into the valley?"
she asks.
"I was thinking that yonder is living a good, industrious old woman,
who thinks me a man of honour, but she is wrong, alas!"
"And who is this good old woman, pray?" Carmen sneers.
"If you love me do not speak thus," he returns, "for she is my
mother."
"Ah, indeed! Well, I think you need her. I advise you to return to
her." Don Jose needed her more than he knew.
"And if I went back--what about you?"
"Me? What about me, pray? I stay where I belong--with my friends."
"Then you expect me to give you up, for whom I have lost all that I
ha
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