riere.

From that day all the other inhabitants slept upon a volcano, and at
quarter day sent in a unanimous notice of their intention to move to the
landlord.

Indeed, hardly a day passed without a storm breaking out in one of these
households. Now it was Mimi and Rodolphe who, no longer having strength
to speak, continued their conversation with the aid of such missiles as
came under their hands. But more frequently it was Schaunard addressing
a few observations to the melancholy Phemie with the end of a walking
stick. As to Marcel and Musette, their arguments were carried on in
private sittings; they took at least the precaution to close their
doors and windows.

If by chance peace reigned in the three households, the other lodgers
were not the less victims of this temporary concord. The indiscretion of
partition walls allowed all the secrets of Bohemian family life to
transpire, and initiated them, in spite of themselves, into all its
mysteries. Thus more than one neighbor preferred the _casus belli_ to
the ratification of treaties of peace.

It was, in truth, a singular life that was led for six months. The most
loyal fraternity was practiced without any fuss in this circle, in
which everything was for all, and good or evil fortune shared.

There were in the month certain days of splendor, when no one would have
gone out without gloves--days of enjoyment, when dinner lasted all day
long. There were others when one would have almost gone to Court without
boots; Lenten days, when, after going without breakfast in common, they
failed to dine together, or managed by economic combination to furnish
forth one of those repasts at which plates and knives were "resting," as
Mademoiselle Mimi put it, in theatrical parlance.

But the wonderful thing is that this partnership, in which there were
three young and pretty women, no shadow of discord was found amongst
the men. They often yielded to the most futile fancies of their
mistresses, but not one of them would have hesitated for a moment
between the mistress and the friend.

Love is born above all from spontaneity--it is an improvisation.
Friendship, on the contrary, is, so to say, built up. It is a sentiment
that progresses with circumspection. It is the egoism of the mind,
whilst love is the egoism of the heart.

The Bohemians had known one another for six years. This long period of
time spent in a daily intimacy had, without altering the well-defined
individual