r this from me and tell her I will come and see
her."

"Come quickly, then, if you would come in time," said Rodolphe, as he
left him.

When Rodolphe got to the hospital, Mimi, who could not move, threw her
arms about him in a look.

"Ah, there are my flowers!" said she, with the smile of satisfied
desire.

Rodolphe related his pilgrimage into that part of the country that had
been the paradise of their loves.

"Dear flowers," said the poor girl, kissing the violets. The sweetmeats
greatly pleased her too. "I am not quite forgotten, then. The young
fellows are good. Ah! I love all your friends," said she to Rodolphe.

This interview was almost merry. Schaunard and Colline had rejoined
Rodolphe. The nurses had almost to turn them out, for they had
overstayed visiting time.

"Goodbye," said Mimi. "Thursday without fail, and come early."

The following day on coming home at night, Rodolphe received a letter
from a medical student, a dresser at the hospital, to whose care he had
recommended the invalid. The letter only contained these words:--

"My dear friend, I have very bad news for you. No. 8 is dead. This
morning on going through the ward I found her bed vacant."

Rodolphe dropped on to a chair and did not shed a tear. When Marcel came
in later he found his friend in the same stupefied attitude. With a
gesture the poet showed him the latter.

"Poor girl!" said Marcel.

"It is strange," said Rodolphe, putting his hand to his heart; "I feel
nothing here. Was my love killed on learning that Mimi was to die?"

"Who knows?" murmured the painter.

Mimi's death caused great mourning amongst the Bohemians.

A week later Rodolphe met in the street the dresser who had informed him
of his mistress's death.

"Ah, my dear Rodolphe!" said he, hastening up to the poet. "Forgive me
the pain I caused you by my heedlessness."

"What do you mean?" asked Rodolphe in astonishment.

"What," replied the dresser, "you do not know? You have not seen her
again?"

"Seen whom?" exclaimed Rodolphe.

"Her, Mimi."

"What?" said the poet, turning deadly pale.

"I made a mistake. When I wrote you that terrible news I was the victim
of an error. This is how it was. I had been away from the hospital for a
couple of days. When I returned, on going the rounds with the surgeons,
I found Mimi's bed empty. I asked the sister of charity what had become
of the patient, and she told me that she had died during the night. This
is wh