artist getting ready to write.

"Nothing, only an urgent letter I had forgotten," replied Marcel, and he
wrote:--

"My dear girl,

I have wealth in my desk, an apoplectic stroke of fortune. We have
a big feed simmering, generous wines, and have lit fires like
respectable citizens. You should only just see it, as you used to
say. Come and pass an hour with us. You will find Rodolphe, Colline
and Schaunard. You shall sing to us at dessert, for dessert will
not be wanting. While we are there we shall probably remain at
table for a week. So do not be afraid of being too late. It is so
long since I heard you laugh. Rodolphe will compose madrigals to
you, and we will drink all manner of things to our dead and gone
loves, with liberty to resuscitate them. Between people like
ourselves--the last kiss is never the last. Ah! If it had not been
so cold last year you might not have left me. You jilted me for a
faggot and because you were afraid of having red hands; you were
right. I am no more vexed with you over it this time than over the
others, but come and warm yourself while there is a fire. With as
many kisses as you like,

Marcel."

This letter finished, Marcel wrote another to Madame Sidonie, Musette's
friend, begging her to forward the one enclosed in it. Then he went
downstairs to the porter to get him to take the letters. As he was
paying him beforehand, the porter noticed a gold coin in the painter's
hand, and before starting on his errand went up to inform the landlord,
with whom Marcel was behind with his rent.

"Sir," said he, quite out of breath, "the artist on the sixth floor has
money. You know the tall fellow who laughs in my face when I take him
his bill?"

"Yes," said the landlord, "the one who had the imprudence to borrow
money of me to pay me something on account with. He is under notice to
quit."

"Yes sir. But he is rolling in gold today. I caught sight of it just
now. He is giving a party. It is a good time--"

"You are right," said the landlord. "I will go up and see for myself
by-and-by."

Madame Sidonie, who was at home when Marcel's letter was brought, sent
on her maid at once with the one intended for Musette.

The latter was then residing in a charming suite of rooms in the
Chaussee d'Antin. At the moment Marcel's letter was handed to her, she
had company, and, indeed, was going