the chair, but they did not burn long enough to cook an egg by.
Besides, the wind comes in through the window as if it were at
home, and whispers a great deal of bad advice which it would vex
you if I were to listen to. I prefer to go out a bit; I shall take
a look at the shops. They say that there is some velvet at ten
francs a yard. It is incredible, I must see it. I shall be back
for dinner.

Musette"

"Poor girl," said Marcel, putting the letter in his pocket. And he
remained for a short time pensive, his head resting on his hands.

At this period the Bohemians had been for some time in a state of
widowhood, with the exception of Colline, whose sweetheart, however, had
still remained invisible and anonymous.

Phemie herself, Schaunard's amiable companion, had met with a simple
soul who had offered her his heart, a suite of mahogany furniture, and
a ring with his hair--red hair--in it. However, a fortnight after these
gifts, Phemie's lover wanted to take back his heart and his furniture,
because he noticed on looking at his mistress's hands that she wore a
ring set with hair, but black hair this time, and dared to suspect her
of infidelity.

Yet Phemie had not ceased to be virtuous, only as her friends had
chaffed her several times about her ring with red hair, she had had it
dyed black. The gentleman was so pleased that he bought Phemie a silk
dress; it was the first she had ever had. The day she put it on for the
first time the poor girl exclaimed:

"Now I can die happy."

As to Musette, she had once more become almost an official personage,
and Marcel had not met her for three or four months. As to Mimi,
Rodolphe had not heard her even mentioned, save by himself when alone.

"Hallo!" suddenly exclaimed Rodolphe, seeing Marcel squatting dreamily
beside the hearth. "Won't the fire light?"

"There you are," said the painter, setting light to the wood, which
began to crackle and flame.

While his friends were sharpening their appetites by getting ready the
feast, Marcel had again isolated himself in a corner and was putting the
letter he had just found by chance away with some souvenirs that Musette
had left him. All at once he remembered the address of a woman who was
the intimate friend of his old love.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, loud enough to be overheard. "I know where to find
her."

"Find what?" asked Rodolphe. "What are you up to?" he added, seeing the