The first act opens with the picturesque arrival of the troupe in the village, and the preparations for a performance in the rustic theatre, with which the peasants are overjoyed.  The tragic element of the composition is apparent at once, and the action moves swiftly on to the fearful denouement.  Tonio, the clown, is in love with Nedda, and before the performance makes advances to her, which she resents by slashing him across the face with Beppe’s riding-whip.  He rushes off vowing revenge, and upon his return overhears Nedda declaring her passion for Silvio, a young peasant, and arranging to elope with him.  Tonio thereupon seeks Canio, and tells him of his wife’s infidelity.  Canio hurries to the spot, encounters Nedda; but Silvio has fled, and she refuses to give his name.  He attempts to stab her, but is prevented by Beppe, and the act closes with the final preparation for the show, the grief-stricken husband donning the motley in gloomy and foreboding silence.

The second act opens with Tonio beating the big drum, and the people crowding to the show, among them Silvio, who manages to make an appointment with Nedda while she is collecting the money.  The curtain of the little theatre rises, disclosing a small room barely furnished.  The play to be performed is almost an identical picture of the real situation in the unfortunate little troupe.  Columbine, who is to poison her husband, Punchinello, is entertaining her lover, Harlequin, while Taddeo, the clown, watches for Punchinello’s return.  When Canio finally appears the mimic tragedy becomes one in reality.  Inflamed with passion, he rushes upon Nedda, and demands the name of her lover.  She still refuses to tell.  He draws his dagger.  Nedda, conscious of her danger, calls upon Silvio in the audience to save her; but it is too late.  Her husband kills her, and Silvio, who rushes upon the stage, is killed with the same dagger.  With a wild cry full of hate, jealousy, and despair, the unfortunate Canio tells the audience “La commedia e finita” ("The comedy is finished").  The curtain falls upon the tragedy, and the excited audience disperses.

The story is peculiarly Italian in its motive, though the composer has been charged with taking it from “La Femme de Tabarin,” by the French novelist, Catulle Mendes.  Be this as it may, Leoncavallo’s version has the merit of brevity, conciseness, ingenuity, and swift action, closing in a denouement of great tragic power and capable, in the hands of a good actor, of being made very effective.  The composer has not alone been charged with borrowing the story, but also with plagiarizing the music.  So far as the accusation of plagiarism is concerned, however, it hardly involves anything more serious than those curious resemblances which are so often found in musical compositions.  As a whole, the opera is melodious, forceful, full of snap and go, and intensely dramatic, and is without a dull moment from the prologue ("Si puo?  Signore”)