Turiddu received the first blow in his arm, and when he returned it struck for Alfio's heart.
"Ah, Turiddu! You really do intend to kill me ?" "Yes, I told you so.

Since I saw her in the henyard I have my old mother always in my eyes." "Keep those eyes wide open," shouted Alfio, "for I am going to return you good measure!" Alfio crouched almost to the ground, keeping his left hand on the wound, which pained him.

Suddenly he seized a handful of dust and threw it into Turiddu's eyes.
"Ah!" howled Turiddu, blinded by the dust, "I'm a dead man!" He attempted to save himself by leaping backward, but Alfio struck him a second blow, this time in the belly, and a third in the throat.
"That makes three--the last for the head you have adorned for me!" Turiddu staggered back into the bushes and fell.

He tried to say, "Ah, my dear mother!" but the blood gurgled up in his throat and he could not.
Music lends itself incalculably better to the celebration of a mood accomplished or achieved by action, physical or psychological, than to an expression of the action itself.

It is in the nature of the lyric drama that this should be so, and there need be no wonder that wherever Verga offered an opportunity for set lyricism it was embraced by Mascagni and his librettists.