Part 25 (2/2)

”Sixthly. Corrupted by the discourse of these gentlemen, the waiter Bergami (so called from his whiskers), forgetting his humble origin and defying all control, has dared to address to the mistress of the house a piece of poetry suggestive of the most improper sentiments; by the irregularity of its style, this letter is recognized as a direct emanation from the pernicious influence of Monsieur Rodolphe and his literature.”

”Consequently, in spite of the regret which he feels, the proprietor of the establishment finds himself obliged to request the Colline party to choose some other place for their revolutionary meetings.”

Gustave Colline, who was the Cicero of the set, took the floor and demonstrated to the landlord that his complaints were frivolous and unfounded; that they did him great honor in making his establishment a home of intellect; that their departure and that of their friends would be the ruin of his house, which their presence elevated to the rank of a literary and artistic club.

”But,” objected the other, ”you and those who come to see you call for so little.”

”This temperance to which you object,” replied Colline, ”is an argument in favor of our morals. Moreover, it depends on yourself whether we spend more or not. You have only to open an account with us.”

The landlord pretended not to hear this, and demanded some explanation of the incendiary letter addressed by Bergami to his wife. Rodolphe, accused of acting as secretary to the waiter, strenuously a.s.serted his innocence--

”For,” said he, ”the lady's virtue was a sure barrier--”

The landlord would not repress a smile of pride. Finally, Colline entangled him completely in the folds of his insidious oratory, and everything was arranged, on the conditions that the party should cease making their own coffee, that the establishment should receive ”The Beaver” gratis, that Phemie should come in a bonnet, that the backgammon board should be given up to the Bosquets every Sunday from twelve to two, and above all, that no one should ask for tick.

On this basis everything went well for some time.

It was Christmas Eve. The four friends came to the cafe accompanied by their friends of the other s.e.x. There was Marcel's Musette, Rodolphe's new flame, Mimi, a lovely creature, with a voice like a pair of cymbals, and Schaunard's idol, Phemie Teinturiere. That night, Phemie, according to agreement, had her bonnet on. As to Madame Colline that should have been, no one ever saw her; she was always at home, occupied in punctuating her husband's ma.n.u.scripts. After the coffee, which was on this great occasion escorted by a regiment of small gla.s.ses of brandy, they called for punch. The waiter was so little accustomed to the order, that they had to repeat it twice. Phemie, who had never been to such a place before, seemed in a state of ecstacy at drinking out of gla.s.ses with feet. Marcel was quarreling with Musette about a new bonnet which he had not given her. Mimi and Rodolphe, who were in their honeymoon, carried on a silent conversation, alternated with suspicious noises. As to Colline, he went about from one to the other, distributing among them all the polite and ornamental phrases which he had picked up in the ”Muses' Almanac.”

While this joyous company was thus abandoning itself to sport and laughter, a stranger at the bottom of the room, who occupied a table by himself, was observing with extraordinary attention the animated scene before him. For a fortnight or thereabout, he had come thus every night, being the only customer who could stand the terrible row which the club made. The boldest pleasantries had failed to move him; he would remain all the evening, smoking his pipe with mathematical regularity, his eyes fixed as if watching a treasure, and his ears open to all what was said around him. As to his other qualities, he seemed quiet and well off, for he possessed a watch with a gold chain; and one day, Marcel, meeting him at the bar, caught him in the act of changing a louis to pay his score. From that moment, the four friends designated him by the name of ”The Capitalist.”

Suddenly Schaunard, who had very good eyes, remarked that the gla.s.ses were empty.

”Yes,” exclaimed Rodolphe, ”and this is Christmas Eve! We are good Christians, and ought to have something extra.”

”Yes, indeed,” added Marcel, ”let's call for something supernatural.”

”Colline,” continued Rodolphe, ”ring a little for the waiter.”

Colline rang like one possessed.

”What shall we have?” asked Marcel.

Colline made a low bow and pointed to the women.

”It is the business of these ladies to regulate the nature and order of our refreshment.”

”I,” said Musette, smacking her lips, ”should not be afraid of Champagne.”

”Are you crazy?” exclaimed Marcel. ”Champagne! That isn't wine to begin with.”

”So much the worse; I like it, it makes a noise.”

”I,” said Mimi, with a coaxing look at Rodolphe, ”would like some Beaune, in a little basket.”

”Have you lost your senses?” said Rodolphe.

<script>