Act II. The Farnese Palace. _Scarpia's_ apartments on an upper floor.

A large window overlooks the palace courtyard. _Scarpia_ is seated at table supping. At intervals he breaks off to reflect. His manner is anxious. An orchestra is heard from a lower story of the palace, where Queen Caroline is giving an entertainment in honour of the reported victory over Bonaparte. They are dancing, while waiting for _Tosca_, who is to sing in the cantata. _Scarpia_ summons _Sciarrone_ and gives him a letter, which is to be handed to the singer upon her arrival.

_Spoletta_ returns from his mission. _Tosca_ was followed to a villa almost hidden by foliage. She remained but a short time. When she left it, _Spoletta_ and his men searched the house, but could not find _Angelotti_. _Scarpia_ is furious, but is appeased when _Spoletta_ tells him that they discovered _Cavaradossi_, put him in irons, and have brought him with them.

Through the open window there is now heard the beginning of the cantata, showing that _Tosca_ has arrived and is on the floor below, where are the Queen's reception rooms. Upon _Scarpia's_ order there are brought in _Cavaradossi_, _Roberti_, the executioner, and a judge with his clerk. _Cavaradossi's_ manner is indignant, defiant, _Scarpia's_ at first suave. Now and then _Tosca's_ voice is heard singing below. Finally _Scarpia_ closes the window, thus shutting out the music. His questions addressed to _Cavaradossi_ are now put in a voice more severe. He has just asked, "Once more and for the last time," where is _Angelotti_, when _Tosca_, evidently alarmed by the contents of the note received from _Scarpia_, hurries in and, seeing _Cavaradossi_, fervently embraces him. Under his breath he manages to warn her against disclosing anything she saw at the villa.

_Scarpia_ orders that _Cavaradossi_ be removed to an adjoining room and his deposition there taken. _Tosca_ is not aware that it is the torture chamber the door to which has closed upon her lover. With _Tosca_ _Scarpia_ begins his interview quietly, deferentially. He has deduced from _Spoletta's_ report of her having remained but a short time at the villa that, instead of discovering the Attavanti with her lover, as she jealously had suspected, she had found him making plans to conceal _Angelotti_. In this he has just been confirmed by her frankly affectionate manner toward _Cavaradossi_.

At first she answers _Scarpia's_ questions as to the presence of someone else at the villa lightly; then, when he becomes more insistent, her replies show irritation, until, turning on her with "ferocious sternness," he tells her that his agents are attempting to wring a confession from _Cavaradossi_ by torture. Even at that moment a groan is heard. _Tosca_ implores mercy for her lover. Yes, if she will disclose the hiding place of _Angelotti_. Groan after groan escapes from the torture chamber. _Tosca_, overcome, bursts into convulsive sobs and sinks back upon a sofa. _Spoletta_ kneels and mutters a Latin prayer. _Scarpia_ remains cruelly impassive, silent, until, seeing his opportunity in _Tosca's_ collapse, he steps to the door and signals to the executioner, _Roberti_, to apply still greater torture. The air is rent with a prolonged cry of pain. Unable longer to bear her lover's anguish and, in spite of warnings to say nothing, which he has called out to her between his spasms, she says hurriedly and in a stifled voice to _Scarpia_, "The well ... in the garden."

_Cavaradossi_ is borne in from the torture chamber and deposited on the sofa. Kneeling beside him _Tosca_ lavishes tears and kisses upon him. _Sciarrone_, the judge, _Roberti_ and the _Clerk_ go. In obedience to a sign from _Scarpia_, _Spoletta_ and the agents remain behind. Still loyal to his friend, _Cavaradossi_, although racked with pain, asks _Tosca_ if unwittingly in his anguish he has disclosed aught. She reassures him.

In a loud and commanding voice _Scarpia_ says to _Spoletta_: "In the well in the garden--Go _Spoletta_!"

From _Scarpia's_ words _Cavaradossi_ knows that _Tosca_ has betrayed _Angelotti's_ hiding place. He tries to repulse her.

_Sciarrone_ rushes in much perturbed. He brings bad news. The victory they have been celebrating has turned into defeat. Bonaparte has triumphed at Marengo. _Cavaradossi_ is roused to enthusiasm by the tidings. "Tremble, Scarpia, thou butcherly hypocrite," he cries.

It is his death warrant. At _Scarpia's_ command _Sciarrone_ and the agents seize him and drag him away to be hanged.

Quietly seating himself at table, _Scarpia_ invites _Tosca_ to a chair. Perhaps they can discover a plan by which _Cavaradossi_ may be saved. He carefully polishes a wineglass with a napkin, fills it with wine, and pushes it toward her.

"Your price?" she asks, contemptuously.

Imperturbably he fills his glass. She is the price that must be paid for _Cavaradossi's_ life. The horror with which she shrinks from the proposal, her unfeigned detestation of the man putting it forward, make her seem the more fascinating to him. There is a sound of distant drums. It is the escort that will conduct _Cavaradossi_ to the scaffold. _Scarpia_ has almost finished supper. Imperturbably he peels an apple and cuts it in quarters, occasionally looking up and scanning his chosen victim's features.

Distracted, not knowing whither or to whom to turn, _Tosca_ now utters the famous "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore, non feci mai male ad anima viva":

(Music and love--these have I lived for, Nor ever have I harmed a living being....

In this, my hour of grief and bitter tribulation, O, Heavenly Father, why hast Thou forsaken me),

The "Vissi d'arte" justly is considered the most beautiful air in the repertoire of modern Italian opera. It is to passages of surpassing eloquence like this that Puccini owes his fame, and his operas are indebted for their lasting power of appeal.

Beginning quietly, "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,"

[Music]

it works up to the impassioned, heart-rending outburst of grief with which it comes to an end.

[Music]

A knock at the door. _Spoletta_ comes to announce that _Angelotti_, on finding himself discovered, swallowed poison. "The other," he adds, meaning _Cavaradossi_, "awaits your decision." The life of _Tosca's_ lover is in the hands of the man who has told her how she may save him. Softly _Scarpia_ asks her, "What say you?" She nods consent; then, weeping for the shame of it, buries her head in the sofa cushions.

_Scarpia_ says it is necessary for a mock execution to be gone through with, before _Tosca_ and _Cavaradossi_ can flee Rome. He directs _Spoletta_ that the execution is to be simulated--"as we did in the case of Palmieri.--You understand."

"Just like Palmieri," _Spoletta_ repeats with emphasis, and goes.

_Scarpia_ turns to _Tosca_. "I have kept my promise." She, however, demands safe conduct for _Cavaradossi_ and herself. _Scarpia_ goes to his desk to write the paper. With trembling hand _Tosca_, standing at the table, raises to her lips the wineglass filled for her by _Scarpia_. As she does so she sees the sharp, pointed knife with which he peeled and quartered the apple. A rapid glance at the desk assures her that he still is writing. With infinite caution she reaches out, secures possession of the knife, conceals it on her person. _Scarpia_ has finished writing. He folds up the paper, advances toward _Tosca_ with open arms to embrace her.

"_Tosca_, at last thou art mine!"

With a swift stroke of the knife, she stabs him full in the breast.

"It is thus that _Tosca_ kisses!"

He staggers, falls. Ineffectually he strives to rise; makes a final effort; falls backward; dies.

Glancing back from time to time at _Scarpia's_ corpse, _Tosca_ goes to the table, where she dips a napkin in water and washes her fingers. She arranges her hair before a looking-glass, then looks on the desk for the safe-conduct. Not finding it there, she searches elsewhere for it, finally discovers it clutched in _Scarpia's_ dead fingers, lifts his arm, draws out the paper from between the fingers, and lets the arm fall back stiff and stark, as she hides the paper in her bosom. For a brief moment she surveys the body, then extinguishes the lights on the supper table.

About to leave, she sees one of the candles on the desk still burning. With a grace of solemnity, she lights with it the other candle, places one candle to the right, the other to the left of _Scarpia's_ head, takes down a crucifix from the wall, and, kneeling, places it on the dead man's breast. There is a roll of distant drums. She rises; steals out of the room.

In the opera, as in the play, which was one of Sarah Bernhardt's triumphs, it is a wonderful scene--one of the greatest in all drama. Anyone who has seen it adequately acted, knows what it has signified in the success of the opera, even after giving Puccini credit for "Vissi d'arte" and an expressive accompaniment to all that transpires on the stage.