Part 48 (1/2)

”There are six louis,” said the banker.

”I'll go two of them,” exclaimed Madame Sidonie.

”I am not proud, I'll start at two,” replied the banker, who had already dealt several times. ”King and ace. I am done for,” he continued, dealing the cards. ”I am done for, all the kings are out.”

”No politics,” said a journalist.

”And the ace is the foe of my family,” continued the banker, who then turned up another king. ”Long live the king! My dear Sidonie, hand me over two louis.”

”Put them down,” said Sidonie, vexed at her loss.

”That makes four hundred francs you owe me, little one,” said the banker. ”You would run it up to a thousand. I pa.s.s the deal.”

Sidonie and Musette were chatting together in a low tone. The game went on.

At about the same time the Bohemians were sitting down to table. During the whole of the repast Marcel seemed uneasy. Everytime a step sounded on the stairs he started.

”What is the matter?” asked Rodolphe of him. ”One would think you were expecting someone. Are we not all here?”

But at a look from the artist the poet understood his friend's preoccupation.

”True,” he thought, ”we are not all here.”

Marcel's look meant Musette, Rodolphe's answering glance, Mimi.

”We lack ladies,” said Schaunard, all at once.

”Confound it,” yelled Colline, ”will you hold your tongue with your libertine reflections. It was agreed that we should not speak of love, it turns the sauces.”

And the friends continued to drink fuller b.u.mpers, whilst without the snow still fell, and on the hearth the logs flamed brightly, scattering sparks like fireworks.

Just as Rodolphe was thundering out a song which he had found at the bottom of his gla.s.s, there came several knocks at the door. Marcel, torpid from incipient drunkenness, leaped up from his chair, and ran to open it. Musette was not there.

A gentleman appeared on the threshold; he was not only bad looking, but his dressing gown was wretchedly made. In his hand he held a slip of paper.

”I am glad to see you so comfortable,” he said, looking at the table on which were the remains of a magnificent leg of mutton.

”The landlord!” cried Rodolphe. ”Let us receive him with the honors due to his position!” and he commenced beating on his plate with his knife and fork.

Colline handed him a chair, and Marcel cried:

”Come, Schaunard! Pa.s.s us a clean gla.s.s. You are just in time,” he continued to the landlord, ”we were going to drink to your health. My friend there, Monsieur Colline, was saying some touching things about you. As you are present, he will begin over again, out of compliment to you. Do begin again, Colline.”

”Excuse me, gentlemen,” said the landlord, ”I don't wish to trouble you, but---” and he unfolded the paper which he had in his hand.

”What's the doc.u.ment?” asked Marcel.

The landlord, who had cast an inquisitive glance around the room, perceived some gold on the chimney piece.

”It is your receipt,” he said hastily, ”which I had the honor of sending you once already.”