Act I. A square in Seville. On the right the gate of a cigarette

factory. At the back, facing the audience, is a practicable bridge from one side of the stage to the other, and reached from the stage by a winding staircase on the right beyond the factory gate. The bridge also is practicable underneath. People from a higher level of the city can cross it and descend by the stairway to the square. Others can pass under it. In front, on the left, is a guard-house. Above it three steps lead to a covered passage. In a rack, close to the door, are the lances of the dragoons of Almanza, with their little red and yellow flags.

_Morales_ and soldiers are near the guard-house. People are coming and going. There is a brisk chorus, "Sur la place" (O'er this square). _Micaela_ comes forward, as if looking for someone.

"And for whom are you looking?" _Morales_ asks of the pretty girl, who shyly has approached the soldiers lounging outside the guard-house.

"I am looking for a corporal," she answers.

"I am one," _Morales_ says, gallantly.

"But not _the_ one. His name is José."

The soldiers, scenting amusement in trying to flirt with a pretty creature, whose innocence is as apparent as her charm, urge her to remain until _Don José_ comes at change of guard. But, saying she will return then, she runs away like a frightened deer, past the cigarette factory, across the square, and down one of the side streets.

A fascinating little march for fifes and trumpets is heard, at first in the distance, then gradually nearer.

The change of guard arrives, preceded by a band of street lads, imitating the step of the dragoons. After the lads come _Captain Zuniga_ and _Corporal José_; then dragoons, armed with lances. The ceremony of changing guard is gone through with, to the accompaniment of a chorus of gamins and grown-up spectators. It is a lively scene.

"It must have been Micaela," says _Don José_, when they tell him of the girl with tresses of fair hair and dress of blue, who was looking for him. "Nor do I mind saying," he adds, "that I love her." And indeed, although there are some sprightly girls in the crowd that have gathered in the square to see the guard changed, he has no eyes for them, but, straddling a chair out in the open, busies himself trying to join the links of a small chain that has come apart.

The bell of the cigarette factory strikes the work hour, and the cigarette girls push their way through the crowd, stopping to make eyes at the soldiers and young men, or lingering to laugh and chat, before passing through the factory gates.

A shout goes up:

"Carmen!"

A girl, dark as a gypsy and lithe as a panther, darts across the bridge and down the steps into the square, the crowd parting and making way for her.

"Love you?" she cries insolently to the men who press around her and ply her with their attentions. "Perhaps tomorrow. Anyhow not today." Then, a dangerous fire kindling in her eyes, she sways slowly to and fro to the rhythm of a "Habanera," singing the while, "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle," etc.

"Love is a gypsy boy, 'tis true, He ever was and ever will be free; Love you not me, then I love you, Yet, if I love you, beware of me!"

[Music]

Often she glances toward _José_, often dances so close to him that she almost touches him, and by subtle inflections in her voice seeks to attract his attention. But he seems unaware of her presence. Indeed if, thinking of _Micaela_, he has steeled himself against the gypsy, in whose every glance, step, and song lurks peril, the handsome dragoon could not be busying himself more obstinately with the broken chain in his hand.

"Yet, if I love you, beware of me!"

Tearing from her bodice a blood-red cassia flower, she flings it at him point blank. He springs to his feet, as if he would rush at her. But he meets her look, and stops where he stands. Then, with a toss of the head and a mocking laugh, she runs into the factory, followed by the other girls, while the crowd, having had its sport, disperses.

The librettists have constructed an admirable scene. The composer has taken full advantage of it. The "Habanera" establishes _Carmen_ in the minds of the audience--the gypsy girl, passionate yet fickle, quick to love and quick to tire. Hers the dash of fatalism that flirts with death.

At _José's_ feet lies the cassia flower thrown by _Carmen_, the glance of whose dark eyes had checked him. Hesitatingly, yet as if in spite of himself, he stoops and picks it up, presses it to his nostrils and draws in its subtle perfume in a long breath. Then, still as if involuntarily, or as if a magic spell lies in its odour, he thrusts the flower under his blouse and over his heart.

He no more than has concealed it there, when _Micaela_ again enters the square and hurries to him with joyful exclamations. She brings him tidings from home, and some money from his mother's savings, with which to eke out his small pay. They have a charming duet, "Ma mère, je la vois, je revois mon village" (My home in yonder valley, my mother, lov'd, again I'll see).

It is evident that _Micaela's_ coming gives him a welcome change of thought, and that, although she cannot remain long, her sweet, pure presence has for the time being lifted the spell the gypsy has cast over him. For, when _Micaela_ has gone, _José_ grasps the flower under his blouse, evidently intending to draw it out and cast it away.

Just then, however, there are cries of terror from the cigarette factory and, in a moment, the square is filled with screaming girls, soldiers, and others. From the excited utterances of the cigarette girls it is learned that there has been a quarrel between _Carmen_ and another girl, and that _Carmen_ has wounded the latter with a knife. _Zuniga_ promptly orders _José_ to take two dragoons with him into the factory and arrest her. None abashed, and smirking, she comes out with them. When the captain begins questioning her, she answers with a gay "Tra la la, tra la la," pitching her voice on a higher note after each question with an indescribable effect of mockery, that makes her dark beauty the more fascinating.

Losing patience, the officer orders her hands tied behind her back, while he makes out the warrant for her imprisonment. The soldiers having driven away the crowd, _Don José_ is left to guard _Carmen_.

Pacing up and down the square, he appears to be avoiding her. But she, as if speaking to herself, or thinking aloud, and casting furtive glances at him, tells of a handsome young dragoon with whom she has fallen in love.

"He is not a captain, nor even a lieutenant--only a corporal. But he will do what I ask--because he is in love with me!"

"I?--I love you?" _José_ pauses beside her.

With a coquettish toss of the head and a significant glance she asks, "Where is the flower I threw at you? What have you done with it?" Then, softly, she sings another, alluring melody in typical Spanish dance measure, a "Seguidilla," "Près des remparts de Séville."

"Near by the ramparts of Seville, Is the inn of my friend, Lillas Pastia, There I'll dance the gay Seguidilla-- And the dance with my lover I'll share."

[Music]

"Carmen!" cries _José_, "you have bewitched me...."

"Near by the ramparts of Seville.... And the dance with my lover I'll share!" she murmurs insinuatingly, and at the same time she holds back her bound wrists toward him. Quickly he undoes the knot, but leaves the rope about her wrists so that she still appears to be a captive, when the captain comes from the guard-house with the warrant. He is followed by the soldiers, and the crowd, drawn by curiosity to see _Carmen_ led off to prison, again fills the square.

_José_ places her between two dragoons, and the party starts for the bridge. When they reach the steps, _Carmen_ quickly draws her hands free of the rope, shoves the soldiers aside, and, before they know what has happened, dashes up to the bridge and across it, tossing the rope down into the square as she disappears from sight, while the crowd, hindering pursuit by blocking the steps, jeers at the discomfited soldiers.