With the new guard comes first the bugler and a fifer with a lot of little ragged urchins tagging along behind; then comes Zuniga strutting in, very much pleased with himself, and after him Don Jose, the corporal, whom Michaela has come to town to see. The street boys sing while the new guard lines up in front of the old one, and every one takes up the song. It is the business of every one in opera to sing about everything at any time. Thus the guard describes itself in song: On we tramp, alert and steady, Like young soldiers, every one! Head up, and footfall steady, Left, right! we're marching on! See how straight our shoulders are,-- Every breast is swelled with pride, Our arms all regular-- Hanging down on either side. There is not much poetry in this, but there is lots of vim, and the new guard, as bright as a new tin whistle, has formed and the old guard marched off during the singing. Meantime, while things have been settling down, Morales has had a word with Don Jose. "A pretty girl is somewhere near here, looking for you, Jose. She wore a blue gown and her hair is in a braid down her back; she's----" "I know her; it is Michaela," Jose declares: and, with the sudden knowledge that she is so near, and that she comes directly from his old mother, he feels a longing for home, and realizes that he has been none too thoughtful or kind toward those who love him. As everybody finds himself in place, Zuniga points across to the cigarette factory. "Did you ever notice that there are often some tremendously pretty girls over there?" he asks of Jose. "Huh?" Jose answers, abstractedly. Zuniga laughs. "You are thinking of the pretty girl Morales has just told you of," he says. "The girl with the blue petticoat and the braid down her back!" "Well, why not? I love her," Jose answers shortly. He hunches his musket a little higher and wheels about. He doesn't specially care to talk of Michaela or his mother, with these young scamps who are as thoughtless as himself: he has preserved so much of self-respect; but before he can answer again the factory bell rings. Dinner time! Jose stands looking across, as every one else does, while the factory crowd begins to tumble out, helter-skelter. All come singing, and the girls smoking cigarettes, a good many of them being gipsies, like Carmen. They are dressed in all sorts of clothes from dirty silk petticoats, up to self-respecting rags. Carmen is somewhere in the midst of the hullabaloo, and everybody is shouting for her.