La Boheme | Page 3

paid his lawful wages.
RUD. Of what use are the forests all white under the snow?
MAR. Now Rudolph, let me tell you A fact that overcomes me, I'm simply frozen!
RUD. (approaching MARCEL) And I, Marcel, to be quite candid, I've no faith in the sweat of my brow.
MAR. All my fingers are frozen Just as if they'd been touching that iceberg, Touching that block of marble, the heart of false Musetta.
(_Heaves a long sigh, laying aside his palette and brushes, and ceases painting.)_
RUD. Ah! love's a stove consuming a deal of fuel!
MAR. Too quickly.
RUD. Where the man does the burning.
MAR. And the woman the lighting.
RUD. While the one turns to ashes.
MAR. So the other stands and watches.
RUD. Meanwhile, in here we're frozen.
MAR. And we're dying of hunger.
RUD. A fire must be lighted.
MAR. (_seizing a chair and about to break it up_) I have it, This crazy chair shall save us!
(RUDOLPH energetically resists MARCEL'S project.)
RUD. (_joyous at an idea that has seized him_) Eureka!
(_Runs to the table and from below it lifts a bulky manuscript._)
MAR. You've found it?
RUD. Yes. When genius is roused ideas come fast in flashes.
MAR. (_pointing to his picture_) Let's burn up the "Red Sea."
RUD. No: think what a stench 'twould occasion! But my drama, my beautiful drama shall give us warmth.
MAR. (_with comic terror_) Intend you to read it? Twill chill us!
RUD. No. The paper in flame shall be burning, The soul to its heaven returning. (_with tragic emphasis_) Great loss! but the world yet must bear it, When Rome is in peril!
MAR. Great soul!
RUD. (_giving MARCEL a portion of the MS._) Here, take the first act.
MAR. Well?
RUD. Tear it.
MAR. And light it.
(RUDOLPH _strikes a flint on steel, lights a candle, and goes to the stove with_ MARCEL; _together they set fire to a part of the MS. thrown into the fireplace; then both draw up their chairs and sit down, delightedly warming themselves._)
RUD. How joyous the rays!
MAR. How cheerful the blaze!
(_The door at the back opens violently, and_ COLLINE _enters frozen and nipped up, stamping his feet, and throwing angrily on the table a bundle of books tied up in a handkerchief_.)
COL. Surely miracles apocalyptic are dawning! For Christmas eve they honor by allowing no pawning!
(_Checks himself, seeing a fire in the stove._)
See I a fire here?
RUD. (to COLLINE) Gently, it is my drama.
COL. In blazes! I find it very sparkling.
RUD. Brilliant! (_the fire languishes_)
COL. Too short its phrases.
RUD. Brevity's deemed a treasure.
COL. (taking the chair from RUDOLPH) Your chair pray give me, author.
MAR. These foolish entr'actes merely make us shiver. Quickly!
RUD. (taking another portion of the MS.) Here is the next act.
MAR. (to COLLINE) Hush! not a whisper.
(RUDOLPH tears up the MS. _and throws it into the fireplace; the flames revive._ COLLINE _moves his chair nearer and warms his hands._ RUDOLPH is standing near the two with the rest of the MS.)
COL. How deep the thought is!
MAR. Color how true!
RUD. In that blue smoke my drama is dying Full of its love-scenes ardent and new.
COL. A leaf see crackle!
MAR. Those were all the kisses.
RUD. (throwing the remaining MS. _on the fire_) Three acts at once I desire to hear.
COL. Only the daring can dream such visions.
RUD., MAR. and COL. Dreams that in flame soon disappear.
(_Applaud enthusiastically; the flame diminishes._)
MAR. Ye gods! see the leaves well-nigh perished.
COL. How vain is the drama we cherished.
MAR. They crackle! they curl up! they die!
MAR. and COL. The author--down with him, we cry.
(_From the middle door two boys enter, carrying provisions and fuel; the three friends turn, and with a surprised cry, seize the provisions and place them on the table._ COLLINE _carries the wood to the fireplace._)
RUD. Fuel!
MAR. Wine, too!
COL. Cigars!
RUD. Fuel!
MAR. Bordeaux!
RUD., MAR. and COL. The abundance of a feast day We are destined yet to know.
(_Exeunt the two boys_)
(Enter SCHAUNARD.)
SCH. (_triumphantly throwing some coins on the ground_) Such wealth in the balance Outweighs the Bank of France.
COL. (assisting RUDOLPH and MARCEL _to pick up the coins_) Then, take them--then, take them.
MAR. (_incredulously_) Tin medals? Inspect them.
SCH. (showing one to MARCEL) You're deaf then, or blear-eyed? What face do they show?
RUD. (_bowing_) King Louis Philippe: to my monarch I bow.
RUD., MAR., SCH. and COL. Shall King Louis Philippe at our feet thus lie low?
(SCHAUNARD _will go on recounting his good luck, but the others continue to arrange everything on the table._)
SCH. Now I'll explain. This gold has--or rather silver-- Has its own noble story.
MAR. First the stove to replenish.
COL. So much cold has he suffered,
SCH. 'Twas an Englishman, then-- Lord, or mi-lord, as may be-- Desired a musician.
MAR. (throwing COLLINE'S _books from the table_) Off! Let us furnish the table.
SCH. I flew to him.
RUD. Where is the food?
COL. There.
MAR. Here.
SCH. I pay my homage. Accepted, I enquire--
COL. (preparing the viands on the table while RUDOLPH _lights the other candle_)