A BOHEMIAN "AT HOME"
The night when he paid out of his own purse for the supper consumed at
the cafe, Barbemuche managed to make Colline accompany him. Since his
first presence at the meetings of the four friends whom he had relieved
from their embarrassing position, Carolus had especially remarked
Gustave, and already felt an attractive sympathy for this Socrates
whose Plato he was destined to become. It was for this reason he had
chosen him to be his introducer. On the way, Barbemuche proposed that
they should enter a cafe which was still open, and take something to
drink. Not only did Colline refuse, but he doubled his speed in passing
the cafe, and carefully pulled down his hyperphysic hat over his face.
"But why won't you come in?" politely asked the other.
"I have my reasons," replied Colline. "There is a barmaid in that
establishment who is very much addicted to the exact sciences, and I
could not help having a long discussion with her, to avoid which I
never pass through this street at noon, or any other time of day. To
tell you the truth," added he innocently, "I once lived with Marcel in
this neighborhood."
"Still I should be very glad to offer you a glass of punch, and have a
few minutes' talk with you. Is there no other place in the vicinity
where you could step in without being hindered by any mathematical
difficulties?" asked Barbemuche, who thought it a good opportunity for
saying something very clever.
Colline mused an instant. "There is a little place here," he said,
pointing to a wine shop, "where I stand on a better footing."
Barbemuche made a face, and seemed to hesitate. "Is it a respectable
place?" he demanded.
His cold and reserved attitude, his limited conversation, his discreet
smile, and especially his watch chain with charms on it, all led Colline
to suppose that Barbemuche was a clerk in some embassy, and that he
feared to compromise himself by going into some wine shop.
"There is no danger of anyone seeing us," said he. "All the diplomatic
body is in bed by this time."
Barbemuche made up his mind to go in, though at the bottom of his heart
he would have given a good deal for a false nose. For greater security,
he insisted on having a private room, and took care to fasten a napkin
before the glass door of it. These precautions taken, he appeared more
at ease, and called for a bowl of punch. Excited a little by the
generous beverage, Barbemuche became more communicative, and, after
giving some autobiographical details, made bold to express the hope he
had conceived of being personally admitted a member of the Bohemian
Club, for the accomplishment of which ambitious design he solicited the
aid of Colline.
Colline replied that, for his part, he was entirely at the service of
Barbemuche, but, nevertheless, he could make no positive promise. "I
assure you of my vote," said he. "But I cannot take it upon me to
dispose of those of my comrades."
"But," asked Barbemuche, "for what reasons could they refuse to admit me
among them?"
Colline put down the glass which he was just lifting to his mouth, and,
in a very serious tone, addressed the rash Carolus, saying, "You
cultivate the fine arts?"
"I labor humble in those noble fields of intelligence," replied the
other, who felt bound to hang out the colors of his style.
Colline found the phrase well turned, and bowed in acknowledgment.
"You understand music?" he continued.
"I have played on the bass-viol."
"A very philosophical instrument. Then, if you understand music, you
also understand that one cannot, without violation of the laws of
harmony, introduce a fifth performer into a quartet; it would cease to
be a quartet."
"Exactly, and become a quintet."
"A quintet, very well, now attend to me. You understand astronomy?"
"A little, I'm a bachelor of arts."
"There is a little song about that," said Colline. "'Dear bachelor, says
Lisette'--I have forgotten the tune. Well then, you know that there are
four cardinal points. Now suppose there were to turn up a fifth cardinal
point, all the harmony of nature would be upset. What they call a
cataclysm--you understand?"
"I am waiting for the conclusion," said Carolus, whose intelligence
began to be a little shaky.
"The conclusion--yes, that is the end of the argument, as death is the
end of life, and marriage of love. Well, my dear sir, I and my friends
are accustomed to live together, and we fear to impair, by the
introduction of another person, the harmony which reigns in our habits,
opinions, tastes, and dispositions. To speak frankly, we are going to
be, some day, the four cardinal points of contemporary art; accustomed
to this idea, it would annoy us to see a fifth point."
"Nevertheless," suggested Carolus, "where you are four it is easy to be
five."
"Yes, but then we cease to be four."
"The objection is a trivial one."
"There is nothing trivial in this world; little brooks make great
rivers; little syllables make big verses; the very mountains are made of
grains of sand--so says 'The Wisdom of Nations,' of which there is a
copy on the quay--tell me, my dear sir, which is the furrow that you
usually follow in the noble fields of intelligence?"
"The great philosophers and the classic authors are my models. I live
upon their study. 'Telemachus' first inspired the consuming passion I
feel."
"'Telemachus'--there are lots of him on the quay," said Colline. "You
can find him there at any time. I have bought him for five sous--a
second-hand copy--I would consent to part with it to oblige you. In
other respects, it is a great work; very well got up, considering the
age."
"Yes, sir," said Carolus. "I aspire to high philosophy and sound
literature. According to my idea, art is a priesthood--."
"Yes, yes," said Colline. "There's a song about that too," and he began
to hum....
"Art's a priesthood, art's a priesthood,"
to the air of the drinking song in "Robert the Devil."
"I say, then, that art being a solemn mission, writers ought, above all
things--"
"Excuse me," said Colline, who heard one of the small hours striking,
"but it's getting to be tomorrow morning very fast."
"It is late, in fact," said Carolus. "Let us go."
"Do you live far off?"
"Rue Royale St. Honore, No. 10."
Colline had once had occasion to visit this house, and remembered that
it was a splendid private mansion.
"I will mention you to my friends," said he to Carolus on parting, "and
you may be sure that I shall use all my influence to make them favorably
disposed to you. Ah, let me give you one piece of advice."
"Go on," said the other.
"Be very amiable and polite to Mademoiselles Mimi, Musette and Phemie;
these ladies exercise an authority over my friends, and by managing to
bring their mistresses' influence to bear upon them you will contrive
far more easily to obtain what you require from Marcel, Schaunard and
Rodolphe."
"I'll try," said Carolus.
Next day, Colline tumbled in upon the Bohemian association. It was the
hour of breakfast, and for a wonder, breakfast had come with the hour.
The three couples were at table, feasting on artichokes and pepper
sauce.
"The deuce!" exclaimed the philosopher. "This can't last, or the world
would come to an end. I arrive," he continued, "as the ambassador of the
generous mortal whom we met last night."
"Can he be sending already to ask for his money again?" said Marcel.
"It has nothing to do with that," replied Colline. "This young man
wishes to be one of us; to have stock in our society, and share the
profits, of course."
The three men raised their heads and looked at one another.
"That's all," concluded Colline. "Now the question is open."
"What is the social position of your principal?" asked Rodolphe.
"He is no principal of mine," answered the other. "Last night he begged
me to accompany him, and overflowed me with attentions and good liquor
for a while. But I have retained my independence."
"Good," said Schaunard.
"Sketch us some leading features of his character," said Marcel.
"Grandeur of soul, austerity of manners, afraid to go into wine shops,
bachelor of arts, candid as a transparency, plays on the bass-viol, is
disposed to change a five franc piece occasionally."
"Good again!" said Schaunard.
"What are his hopes?"
"As I told you already, his ambition knows no bounds; he aspires to be
'hail-fellow-well-met' with us."
"That is to say," answered Marcel, "he wishes to speculate upon us, and
to be seen riding in our carriages."
"What is his profession?" asked Rodolphe.
"Yes," said Marcel, "what does he play on?"
"Literature and mixed philosophy. He calls art a priesthood."
"A priesthood!" cried Rodolphe, in terror.
"So he says."
"And what is his road in literature?"
"He goes after 'Telemachus'."
"Very good," said Schaunard, eating the seed of his artichoke.
"Very good! You dummy!" broke our Marcel. "I advise you not to say that
in the street."
Schaunard relieved his annoyance at this reproof by kicking Phemie under
the table for taking some of his sauce.
"Once more," said Rodolphe. "What is his condition in the world? What
does he live on, and where does he live? And what is his name?"
"His station is honorable. He is professor of everything in a rich
family. His name is Carolus Barbemuche. He spends his income in
luxurious living and dwells in the Rue Royale."
"Furnished lodging?"
"No, there is real furniture."
"I claim the floor," said Marcel. "To me it is evident that Colline has
been corrupted. He has already sold his vote for so many drinks. Don't
interrupt me! (Colline was rising to protest.) You shall have your
turn. Colline, mercenary soul that he is, has presented to you this
stranger under an aspect too favorable to be true. I told you before; I
see through this person's designs. He wants to speculate on us. He says
to himself, 'Here are some chaps making their way. I must get into their
pockets. I shall arrive with them at the goal of fame.'"
"Bravo!" quoth Schaunard, "have you any more sauce there?"
"No," replied Rodolphe, "the edition is out of print."
"Looking at the question from another point of view," continued Marcel,
"this insidious mortal whom Colline patronizes, perhaps aspires to our
intimacy only from the most culpable motives. Gentlemen, we are not
alone here!" continued the orator, with an eloquent look at the women.
"And Colline's client, smuggling himself into our circle under the cloak
of literature, may perchance be but a vile seducer. Reflect! For one, I
vote against his reception."
"I demand the floor," said Rodolphe, "only for a correction. In his
remarkable extemporary speech, Marcel has said that this Carolus, with
the view of dishonoring us, wished to introduce himself under the cloak
of literature."
"A Parliamentary figure."
"A very bad figure; literature has no cloak!"
"Having made a report, as chairman of committee," resumed Colline,
rising, "I maintain the conclusions therein embodied. The jealousy which
consumes him disturbs the reason of our friend Marcel; the great artist
is beside himself."
"Order!" cried Marcel.
"So much so, that, able designer as he is, he has just introduced into
his speech a figure the incorrectness of which has been ably pointed out
by the talented orator who preceded me."
"Colline is an ass!" shouted Marcel, with a bang of his fist on the
table that caused a lively sensation among the plates. "Colline knows
nothing in an affair of sentiment; he is incompetent to judge of such
matters; he has an old book in place of a heart."
Prolonged laughter from Schaunard. During the row, Colline kept gravely
adjusting the folds of his white cravat as if to make way for the
torrents of eloquence contained beneath them. When silence was
reestablished, he thus continued:
"Gentlemen, I intend with one word to banish from your minds the
chimerical apprehensions which the suspicions of Marcel may have
engendered in them respecting Carolus."
"Oh, yes!" said Marcel ironically.
"It will be as easy as that," continued Colline, blowing the match with
which he had lighted his pipe.
"Go on! Go on!" cried Schaunard, Rodolphe, and the women together.
"Gentlemen! Although I have been personally and violently attacked in
this meeting, although I have been accused of selling for base liquors
the influence which I possess; secure in a good conscience I shall not
deign to reply to those assaults on my probity, my loyalty, my morality.
[Sensation.] But there is one thing which I will have respected. [Here
the orator, endeavoring to lay his hand on his heart, gave himself a rap
in the stomach.] My well tried and well known prudence has been called
in question. I have been accused of wishing to introduce among you a
person whose intentions were hostile to your happiness--in matters of
sentiment. This supposition is an insult to the virtue of these
ladies--nay more, an insult to their good taste. Carolus Barbemuche is
decidedly ugly." [Visible denial on the face of Phemie; noise under the
table; it is Schaunard kicking her by way of correcting her compromising
frankness.]
"But," proceeded Colline, "what will reduce to powder the contemptible
argument with which my opponent has armed himself against Carolus by
taking advantage of your terrors, is the fact that the said Carolus is a
Platonist." [Sensation among the men; uproar among the women.]
This declaration of Colline's produced a reaction in favor of Carolus.
The philosopher wished to improve the effect of his eloquent and adroit
defense.
"Now then," he continued, "I do not see what well founded prejudices can
exist against this young man, who, after all, has rendered us a service.
As to myself, who am accused of acting thoughtlessly in wishing to
introduce him among us, I consider this opinion an insult to my dignity.
I have acted in the affair with the wisdom of the serpent; if a formal
vote does not maintain me this character for prudence, I offer my
resignation."
"Do you make it a cabinet question?" asked Marcel.
"I do."
The three consulted, and agreed by common consent to restore to the
philosopher that high reputation for prudence which he claimed. Colline
then gave the floor to Marcel, who, somewhat relieved of his prejudices,
declared that he might perhaps favor the adoption of the report. But
before the decisive and final vote which should open to Carolus the
intimacy of the club, he put to the meeting this amendment:
"WHEREAS, the introduction of a new member into our society is a
grave matter, and a stranger might bring with him some elements of
discord through ignorance of the habits, tempers, and opinions of
his comrades,
RESOLVED, that each member shall pass a say with the said Carolus,
and investigate his manner of life, tastes, literary capacity, and
wardrobe. The members shall afterward communicate their several
impressions, and ballot on his admission accordingly. Moreover,
before complete admission, the said Carolus shall undergo a
noviciate of one month, during which time he shall not have the
right to call us by our first names or take our arm in the street.
On the day of reception, a splendid banquet shall be given at the
expense of the new member, at a cost of not less than twelve
francs."
This amendment was adopted by three votes against one. The same night
Colline went to the cafe early on purpose to be the first to see
Carolus. He had not long to wait for him. Barbemuche soon appeared,
carrying in his hand three huge bouquets of roses.
"Hullo!" cried the astonished Colline. "What do you mean to do with that
garden?"
"I remember what you told me yesterday. Your friends will doubtless
come with their ladies, and it is on their account that I bring these
flowers--very handsome ones."
"That they are; they must have cost fifteen sous, at least."
"In the month of December! If you said fifteen francs you would have
come nearer."
"Heavens!" cried Colline, "three crowns for these simple gifts of flora!
You must be related to the Cordilleras. Well my dear sir, that is
fifteen francs which we must throw out of the window."
It was Barbemuche's turn to be astonished. Colline related the jealous
suspicions with which Marcel had inspired his friends, and informed
Carolus of the violent discussion which had taken place between them
that morning on the subject of his admission.
"I protested," said Colline, "that your intentions were the purest, but
there was strong opposition nevertheless. Beware of renewing these
suspicions by much politeness to the ladies; and to begin, let us put
these bouquets out of the way." He took the roses and hid them in a
cupboard. "But this is not all," he resumed. "Before connecting
themselves intimately with you, these gentlemen desire to make a
private examination, each for himself, of your character, tastes, etc."
Then, lest Barbemuche might do something to shock his friends, Colline
rapidly sketched a moral portrait of each of them. "Contrive to agree
with them separately," added the philosopher, "and they will end by all
liking you."
Carolus agreed to everything. The three friends soon arrived with their
friends of the other sex. Rodolphe was polite to Carolus, Schaunard
familiar with him, while Marcel remained cold. Carolus forced himself to
be gay and amiable with the men and indifferent to the women. When they
broke up for the night, he asked Rodolphe to dine with him the next day,
and to come as early as noon. The poet accepted, saying to himself,
"Good! I am to begin the inquiry, then."
Next morning at the hour appointed, he called on Carolus, who did indeed
live in a very handsome private house, where he occupied a sufficiently
comfortable room. But Rodolphe was surprised to find at that time of day
the shutters closed, the curtains drawn, and two lighted candles on the
table. He asked Barbemuche the reason.
"Study," replied the other, "is the child of mystery and silence."
They sat down and talked. At the end of an hour, Carolus, with infinite
oratorial address, brought in a phrase which, despite its humble form,
was neither more nor less than a summons made to Rodolphe to hear a
little work, the fruit of Barbemuche's vigils.
The poet saw himself caught. Curious, however, to learn the color of the
other's style, he bowed politely, assured him that he was enchanted,
that Carolus did not wait for him to finish the sentence. He ran to bolt
the door, and then took up a small memorandum book, the thinness of
which brought a smile of satisfaction to the poet's face.
"Is that the manuscript of your work?" he asked.
"No," replied Carolus. "It is the catalog of my manuscripts and I am
looking for the one which you will allow me to read you. Here it is:
'Don Lopez or Fatality No. 14.' It's on the third shelf," and he
proceeded to open a small closet in which Rodolphe perceived, with
terror, a great quantity of manuscripts. Carolus took out one of these,
shut the closet, and seated himself in front of the poet.
Rodolphe cast a glance at one of the four piles of elephant paper of
which the work was composed. "Come," said he to himself, "it's not in
verse, but it's called 'Don Lopez.'"
Carolus began to read:
"On a cold winter night, two cavaliers, enveloped in large cloaks, and
mounted on sluggish mules, were making their way side by side over one
of the roads which traverse the frightful solitudes of the Sierra
Morena."
"May the Lord have mercy on me!" ejaculated Rodolphe mentally.
Carolus continued to read his first chapter, written in the style above
throughout. Rodolphe listened vaguely, and tried to devise some means of
escape.
"There is the window, but it's fastened; and beside, we are in the
fourth story. Ah, now I understand all these precautions."
"What do you think of my first chapter?" asked Carolus. "Do not spare
any criticism, I beg of you."
Rodolphe thought he remembered having heard some scraps of philosophical
declamation upon suicide, put forth by the hero of the romance, Don
Lopez, to wit; so he replied at hazard:
"The grand figure of Don Lopez is conscientiously studied; it reminds me
of 'Savoyard Vicar's Confession of Faith;' the description of Don
Alvar's mule pleases me exceedingly; it is like a sketch of Gericault's.
There are good lines in the landscape; as to the thoughts, they are
seeds of Rousseau planted in the soil of Lesage. Only allow me to make
one observation: you use too many stops, and you work the word
henceforward too hard. It is a good word, and gives color, but should
not be abused."
Carolus took up a second pile of paper, and repeated the title "Don
Lopez or, Fatality."
"I knew a Don Lopez once," said Rodolphe. "He used to sell cigarettes
and Bayonne chocolate. Perhaps he was a relative of your man. Go on."
At the conclusion of the second chapter, the poet interrupted his host:
"Don't you feel your throat a little dry?" he inquired.
"Not at all," replied Carolus. "We are coming to the history of
Inesilla."
"I am very curious to hear it, nevertheless, if you are tired--"
"Chapter third!" enunciated Carolus in a voice that gave no signs of
fatigue.
Rodolphe took a careful survey of Barbemuche and perceived that he had a
short neck and a ruddy complexion. "I have one hope left," thought the
poet on making this discovery. "He may have an attack of apoplexy."
"Will you be so good as to tell me what you think of the love scene?"
Carolus looked at Rodolphe to observe in his face what effect the
dialogue produced upon him. The poet was bending forward on his chair,
with his neck stretched out in the attitude of one who is listening for
some distant sound.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Hist!" said Rodolphe, "don't you hear? I thought somebody cried fire!
Suppose we go and see."
Carolus listened an instant but heard nothing.
"It must have been a ringing in my ears," said the other. "Go on, Don
Alvar interests me exceedingly; he is a noble youth."
Carolus continued with all the music that he could put into his voice:
"Oh Inesilla! Whatever thou art, angel or demon; and whatever be thy
country, my life is thine, and thee will follow, be it to heaven or
hell!"
Someone knocked at the door.
"It's my porter," said Barbemuche, half opening the door.
It was indeed the porter with a letter. "What an unlucky chance!" cried
Carolus, after he had perused it. "We must put off our reading until some
other time. I have to go out immediately. If you please, we will execute
this little commission together, as it is nothing private, and then we
can come back to dinner."
"There," thought Rodolphe, "is a letter that has fallen from heaven. I
recognize the seal of Providence."
When he rejoined the comrades that night, the poet was interrogated by
Marcel and Schaunard.
"Did he treat you well?" they asked.
"Yes, but I paid dear for it."
"How? Did Carolus make you pay?" demanded Schaunard with rising choler.
"He read a novel at me, inside of which the people are named Don Lopez
and Don Alvar; and the tenors call their mistresses 'angel,' or
'demon.'"
"How shocking!" cried the Bohemians, in chorus.
"But otherwise," said Colline, "literature apart, what is your opinion
of him?"
"A very nice young man. You can judge for yourselves; Carolus means to
treat us all in turn; he invites Schaunard to breakfast with him
tomorrow. Only look out for the closet with the manuscripts in it."
Schaunard was punctual and went to work with the minuteness of an
auctioneer taking an inventory, or a sheriff levying an execution.
Accordingly he came back full of notes; he had studied Carolus chiefly
in respect of movables and worldly goods.
"This Barbemuche," he said, on being asked his opinion, "is a lump of
good qualities. He knows the names of all the wines that were ever
invented, and made me eat more nice things than my aunt ever did on her
birthday. He is on very good terms with the tailors in the Rue
Vivienne, and the bootmakers of the Passage des Panoramas; and I have
observed that he is nearly our size, so that, in case of need, we can
lend him our clothes. His habits are less austere than Colline chose to
represent them; he went wherever I pleased to take him, and gave me
breakfast in two acts, the second of which went off in a tavern by the
fish market where I am known for some Carnival orgies. Well, Carolus
went in there as any ordinary mortal might, and that's all. Marcel goes
tomorrow."
Carolus knew that Marcel was the one who had made the most objections to
his reception. Accordingly, he treated him with particular attention,
and especially won his heart by holding out the hope of procuring him
some sitters in the family of his pupil. When it came to Marcel's turn
to make his report, there were no traces of his original hostility to
Carolus.
On the fourth day, Colline informed Barbemuche that he was admitted, but
under conditions. "You have a number of vulgar habits," he said, "which
must be reformed."
"I shall do my best to imitate you," said Carolus.
During the whole time of his noviciate the Platonic philosopher kept
company with the Bohemians continually, and was thus enabled to study
their habits more thoroughly, not without being very much astonished at
times. One morning, Colline came to see him with a joyful face.
"My dear fellow," he said, "it's all over; you are now definitely one of
us. It only remains to fix the day and the place of the grand
entertainment; I have come to talk with you about it."
"That can be arranged with perfect ease," said Carolus. "The parents of
my pupil are out of town; the young viscount, whose mentor I am, will
lend us the apartments for an evening, only we must invite him to the
party."
"That will be very nice," replied Colline. "We will open to him the
vistas of literature; but do you think he will consent?"
"I am sure of it."
"Then it only remains to fix the day."
"We will settle that tonight at the cafe."
Carolus then went to find his pupil and announced to him that he had
just been elected into a distinguished society of literary men and
artists, and that he was going to give a dinner, followed by a little
party, to celebrate his admission. He therefore proposed to him to make
him one of the guests. "And since you cannot be out late," added
Carolus, "and the entertainment may last some time, it will be for our
convenience to have it here. Your servant François knows how to hold his
tongue; your parents will know nothing of it; and you will have made
acquaintance with some of the cleverest people in Paris, artists and
authors."
"In print?" asked the youth.
"Certainly, one of them edits 'The Scarf of Iris,' which your mother
takes in. They are very distinguished persons, almost celebrities,
intimate friends of mine, and their wives are charming."
"Will there be some women?" asked Viscount Paul.
"Delightful ones," returned Carolus.
"Oh, dear master, I thank you. The entertainment shall certainly take
place here. All the lustres shall be lit up, and I will have the
wrappers taken off the furniture."
That night at the cafe, Barbemuche announced that the party would come
off next Saturday. The Bohemians told their mistresses to think about
their toilettes.
"Do not forget," said they, "that we are going into the real drawing
rooms. Therefore, make ready; a rich but simple costume."
And from that day all the neighborhood was informed that Mademoiselles
Phemie, Mimi, and Musette were going into society.
On the morning of the festivity, Colline, Schaunard, Marcel, and
Rodolphe called, in a body, on Barbemuche, who looked astonished to see
them so early.
"Has anything happened which will oblige us to put it off?" he asked
with some anxiety.
"Yes--that is, no," said Colline. "This is how we are placed. Among
ourselves we never stand on ceremony, but when we are to meet strangers,
we wish to preserve a certain decorum."
"Well?" said the other.
"Well," continued Colline, "since we are to meet tonight, the young
gentleman to whom we are indebted for the rooms, out of respect to him
and to ourselves, we come simply to ask you if you cannot lend us some
becoming toggery. It is almost impossible, you see, for us to enter this
gorgeous roof in frock-coats and colored trousers."
"But," said Carolus, "I have not black clothes for all of you."
"We will make do with what you have," said Colline.
"Suit yourselves then," said Carolus, opening a well-furnished wardrobe.
"What an arsenal of elegancies!" said Marcel.
"Three hats!" exclaimed Schaunard, in ecstasy. "Can a man want three
hats when he had but one head?"
"And the boots!" said Rodolphe, "only look!"
"What a number of boots!" howled Colline.
In a twinkling of an eye each had selected a complete equipment.
"Till this evening," said they, taking leave of Barbemuche. "The ladies
intend to be most dazzling."
"But," said Barbemuche, casting a glance at the emptied wardrobe. "You
have left me nothing. What am I to wear?"
"Ah, it's different with you," said Rodolphe. "You are the master of the
house; you need not stand upon etiquette."
"But I have only my dressing gown and slippers, flannel waistcoat and
trousers with stocking feet. You have taken everything."
"Never mind; we excuse you beforehand," replied the four.
A very good dinner was served at six. The company arrived, Marcel
limping and out of humor. The young viscount rushed up to the ladies and
led them to the best seats. Mimi was dressed with fanciful elegance;
Musette got up with seductive taste; Phemie looked like a stained glass
window, and hardly dared sit down.
The dinner lasted two hours and a half, and was delightfully lively. The
young viscount, who sat next to Mimi, kept treading on her foot. Phemie
took twice of every dish. Schaunard was in clover. Rodolphe improvised
sonnets and broke glasses in marking the rhyme. Colline talked to
Marcel, who remained sulky.
"What is the matter with you?" asked the philosopher.
"My feet are in torture; this Carolus has boots like a woman's."
"He must be given to understand that, for the future, some of his shoes
are to be made a little larger. Be easy, I will see to it. But now to
the drawing room, where the coffee and liquers await us."
The revelry recommenced with increased noise. Schaunard seated himself
at the piano and executed, with immense spirit, his new symphony, "The
Death of the Damsel." To this succeeded the characteristic piece of "The
Creditor's March," which was twice encored, and two chords of the piano
were broken.
Marcel was still morose, and replied to the complaints and
expostulations of Carolus:
"My dear sir, we shall never be intimate friends, and for this reason:
Physical differences are almost always the certain sign of a moral
difference; on this point philosophy and medicine agree."
"Well?" said Carolus.
"Well," continued Marcel, showing his feet, "your boots, infinitely too
small for me, indicate a radical difference of temper and character; in
other respects, your little party has been charming."
At one in the morning the guests took leave, and zig-zagged homeward.
Barbemuche felt very ill, and made incoherent harangues to his pupil,
who, for his part, was dreaming of Mademoiselle Mimi's blue eyes.