rching along as proud
and haughty as some great lord of the court. The swallows, returned from
their Eastern pilgrimage, filled the air with their flight, the may
whitened the bushes, the violets scented the woods, in which the birds
were leaving their nests each with a roll of music under its wings. It
was spring indeed, the true spring of poets and lovers, and not the
spring of the almanac maker--an ugly spring with a red nose and frozen
fingers, which still keeps poor folk shivering at the chimney corner
when the last ashes of the last log have long since burnt out. The balmy
breeze swept through the transparent atmosphere and scattered throughout
the city the first scent of the surrounding country. The rays of the
sun, bright and warm, tapped at the windows. To the invalid they cried,
"open, we are health," and at the garret of the young girl bending
towards her mirror, innocent first love of the most innocent, they said,
"open darling, that we may light up your beauty. We are the messengers
of fine weather. You can now put on your cotton frock and your straw
hat, and lace your smart boots; the groves in which folk foot it are
decked with bright new flowers, and the violins are tuning for the
Sunday dance. Good morning, my dear!"

When the angelus rang out from the neighboring church, the three hard
working coquettes, who had had scarcely time to sleep a few hours, were
already before their looking glasses, giving their final glance at
their new attire.

They were all three charming, dressed alike, and wearing on their faces
the same glow of satisfaction imparted by the realization of a long
cherished wish.

Musette was, above all, dazzlingly beautiful.

"I have never felt so happy," said she to Marcel. "It seems to me that
God has put into this hour all the happiness of my life, and I am afraid
that there will be no more left me. Ah bah! When there is no more left,
there will still be some more. We have the receipt for making it," she
added, gaily kissing him.

As to Phemie, one thing vexed her.

"I am very fond of green grass and the little birds," said she, "but in
the country one never meets anyone, and there will be no one to see my
pretty bonnet and my nice dress. Suppose we went into the country on the
Boulevards?"

At eight in the morning the whole street was in commotion, due to the
blasts from Schaunard's horn giving the signal to start. All the
neighbors were at their windows to see the Bohemians