ed Schaunard, "that's lucky."

"But," continued Marcel, "I am at home too."

"But, sir," broke in Rodolphe, "if our friend recognizes--"

"Yes," said Colline, "if our friend--"

"And if on your side you recall that--," added Rodolphe, "how is it
that--"

"Yes," replied his echo Colline, "how is it that--"

"Have the kindness to sit down, gentlemen," replied Marcel, "and I will
explain the mystery to you."

"If we were to liquify the explanation?" risked Colline.

"Over a mouthful of something," added Rodolphe.

The four young fellows sat down to table and attacked a piece of cold
veal which the wine-shop keeper had let them have.

Marcel then explained what had taken place in the morning between
himself and the landlord when he had come to move in.

"Then," observed Rodolphe, "this gentleman is quite right, and we are in
his place?"

"You are at home," said Marcel politely.

But it was a tremendous task to make Schaunard understand what had taken
place. A comical incident served to further complicate the situation.
Schaunard, when looking for something in a sideboard, found the change
of the five hundred franc note that Marcel had handed to Monsieur
Bernard that morning.

"Ah! I was quite sure," he exclaimed, "that Fortune would not desert me.
I remember now that I went out this morning to run after her. On account
of its being quarter-day she must have looked in during my absence. We
crossed one another on the way, that it is. How right I was to leave the
key in my drawer!"

"Delightful madness!" murmured Rodolphe, looking at Schaunard, who was
building up the money in equal piles.

"A dream, a falsehood, such is life," added the philosopher.

Marcel laughed.

An hour later they had all four fallen asleep.

The next day they woke up at noon, and at first seemed very much
surprised to find themselves together. Schaunard, Colline, and Rodolphe
did not appear to recognize one another, and addressed one another as
"sir." Marcel had to remind them that they had come together the evening
before.

At that moment old Durand entered the room.

"Sir," said he to Marcel, "it is the month of April, eighteen hundred
and forty, there is mud in the streets, and His Majesty Louis-Philippe
is still King of France and Navarre. What!" exclaimed the porter on
seeing his former tenant, "Monsieur Schaunard, how did you come here?"

"By the telegraph," replied Schaunard.

"Ah!" replied the porter, "you are still