_a sudden spasm half suffocates her; she sinks back fainting_)

RUD. (_raising her in alarm_) Oh! God! Mimi!

(_At this moment _Schaunard_ returns, and hearing _Rudolph's_
exclamation, hastens to the bedside._)

SCH. What now?

MIMI. (_opens her eyes and smilingly reassures _Rudolph_ and
_Schaunard) Nothing; I'm better.

RUD. (_gently lowering her_) Gently, for goodness' sake!

MIMI. Yes, forgive me: now it's over.

(MUSETTA _and_ MARCEL_ cautiously enter; _MUSETTA_ carrying a muff,
and her companion a phial._)

MUS. (_to RUDOLPH_) Sleeping?

RUD. (_approaching MARCEL_) Just resting.

MAR. I have seen the doctor.
He'll come--I bade him hasten.
Here's the tonic.
(_Takes a spirit lamp, and placing it upon the table, lights it._)

MIMI. Who is it?

MUS. I--Musetta. (_Approaches Mimi and gives her the muff. Helped by
Musetta, she sits up in bed, and, with almost infantine glee, seizes
the muff_)

MIMI. So soft it is and feathery!
No more will my poor fingers be frozen,
For this muff shall keep them warm. (_to _Rudolph)
Did you give me this present?

MUS. (_eagerly_) Yes!

MIMI. You thoughtless fellow! Thank you.
It cost you dear. (Rudolph _bursts into tears_)
Weep not: I'm better.
Why should you weep for me?
Here love . . . ever with you! . . .
(_thrusts her hands into the muff; then she gradually grows drowsy,
gracefully nodding her head, as one who is overcome by sleep_)
My hands are much warmer: now I will sleep!

(RUDOLPH,_ reassured at seeing _MIMI_ fall asleep, gently moves away
from the bedside, and motioning the others not to make any
noise, approaches _MARCEL.)

RUD. What said the doctor?

MAR. He'll come.

MUS. (_who is busily heating the medicine, brought by _MARCEL_, over
the spirit-lamp, as she unconsciously murmurs a prayer_)
Oh! Mary! Blessed Virgin!
Save, of thy mercy, this poor maiden!
Save her, Madonna mine, from death!
(Rudolph, Marcel _and_ Schaunard_ whisper together. Every now
and then _Rudolph_ goes on tiptoe to the bed, and then rejoins his
companions. _Musetta_, interrupting, bids _Marcel_ place a book
upright on the table, so as to shade the lamp._)
Here there should be a shade,
Because the lamp is flickering!
Like this. (_resuming her prayer_)
And, oh! may she recover!
Madonna! holy mother! I merit not thy pardon,
But our little Mimi is an angel from Heaven!
(Rudolph _approaches _Musetta_, while _Schaunard_ goes on tiptoe to
the bedside; with a sorrowful gestur