100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses by Henry W. Simon

Frasquita and Mercédès, and a couple of ruffians called ElDancairo and El Remendado. They join in a delightful patter quintet, which celebrates the usefulness of girls in carrying out smuggling raids—for smuggling is their business. But off-stage sounds the voice of Don José singing the soldier’s song, Halte là!
    Carmen shoos the others out and warmly welcomes Don José back from jail. As she had promised, she begins to sing and dance for him. In the midst of her dance the trumpet sounds retreat in the distance, calling Don José to his duty. He begins to depart, only to arouse Carmen’s angry contempt. “Is this a way to treat a girl?” she cries. “You canary!” Stung by her taunts, he brings out the flower she had flung him, and, in the very moving Flower Song , tells her how it inspired him throughout his days in prison. Impressed and mollified, Carmen again begins to woo him. José’s conscience, however, is getting the better of him, when Zuniga saves the day for romance by coming in unbidden and ordering Don José to the barracks. This is too much for the youngster. He draws his sword and is about to attack his superior officer when the gypsies rush in and politely disarm the Captain. Now José doesn’t have much choice: he is practically forced to give up his military career and join the smuggling gypsies—just as Carmen had planned. And the act ends with a stirring chorus in praise of the free life. It is sung enthusiastically by everyone but Zuniga.
    ACT III
    The flute solo that begins the entr’acte before Act III sounds as if it were going to be “The Minstrel Boy,” but it turns into an even better tune–better for opera, anyway. The act opens with a chorus of smugglers—the gang that Don José has been forced to join. They are in a lonely spot in the mountains on professional nefarious business, and Carmen, who is already growing tired of Don José, tells him he might be better off with his mother. A lighter note is introduced after their quarrel, when Frasquita and Mercédès start telling their fortunes with cards. I must say that they deal themselves veryattractive fortunes: one is to find a passionate lover, the other a rich oldster intent on marriage. But Carmen joins in the pastime on a much more somber note, for she turns up the ace of spades, the card of death. “It is useless to try to escape one’s fate,” she mutters in her famous Card aria. But now the smugglers are called to duty—that is, to try to smuggle their goods over the border. (Their chorus at this point has always struck me as being remarkably noisy for criminals bent on so secretive a job.)
    When they are gone, the village girl Micaela comes in search of Don José. She is very much frightened, and she asks the protection of the Lord in a touching aria (Je dis que rien ne m’épouvante) . Suddenly José, who has been left on guard, fires a shot, and Micaela is frightened away. However, it is not Micaela he has aimed at, but Escamillo, who is there in search of Carmen. When José discovers what Escamillo is after, the two men start a fight with knives. José is getting the better of it, when Carmen gets back just in time to save the toreador. Gallantly thanking Carmen, he invites everyone to his next performance in Seville. As he starts down the mountainside, Micaela is found. She delivers her message: José’s mother is dying and wishes to see him once more. Carmen contemptuously tells him he had better go. But before he goes, he turns furiously on her and warns her that they shall meet again—that only death can part them. Off-stage, the toreador’s song is heard, and Carmen tries to rush to him. But José, turning back once more, hurls her violently to the ground—and finally leaves, as the orchestra quietly and ominously repeats the toreador’s melody.
    ACT IV
    The last act is introduced by some of the most brilliant and pulse-beating music in the whole score. Everyone is in his best clothes; everyone is