La Boheme | Page 4

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_) Here's cold roast beef.
MAR. And savory patty.
SCH. When shall we start the lessons? When I seek him, in answer to
my question, "When shall we start the lessons?" He tells me "Now--at
once. Just look there," Showing a parrot on the first floor, hung, then
continues: "You must play until that bird has ceased to live." Thus it
befell: Three days I play and yell.
RUD. Brilliantly lightens the room into splendor.
MAR. Here are the candles.
COL. What lovely pastry!
SCH. Then on the servant girl Try all the charms wherewith I'm laden;
I fascinate the maiden.
MAR. With no tablecloth eat we--
RUD. (taking a paper from his pocket) An idea!
COL. and MAR. The Constitutional.
RUD. (unfolding the paper) Excellent paper! One eats a meal and
swallows news at the same time!
SCH. With parsley I approach the bird, His beak Lorito opens; Lorito's
wings outspread, Lorito opens his beak, A little piece of parsley gulps--
As Socrates, is dead!
(SCHAUNARD, seeing that no one is paying any attention to him,
seizes COLLINE as he passes with a plate.)
COL. Who?
SCH. (pettishly) The devil fly away with you entirely!
(seeing the rest in the act of eating the cold pastry)
What are you doing?
(With solemn gesture, extending his hand over the pastry)
No! dainties of this kind Are but the stored-up fodder Saved for the
morrow, Fraught with gloom and sorrow, (clearing the table) To dine at
home on the day of Christmas vigil, While the Quartier Latin

embellishes Its ways with dainty food and tempting relishes.
Meanwhile the smell of savory fritters The old street fills with fragrant
odor. There singing joyously, merry maidens hover, Having for echo
each a student lover.
(RUDOLPH locks the door; then all go to the table and pour out wine.)
RUD., MAR. and COL. 'Tis the gladsome Christmas Eve.
SCH. A little of religion, comrades, I pray; Within doors drink we, but
we dine away.
(Two knocks are heard at the door.)
BEN. (from without) 'Tis I.
MAR. Who is there?
BEN. 'Tis Benoit.
MAR. 'Tis the landlord is knocking!
SCH. Bolt the door quickly!
COL. (calling towards the door) No! There is no one!
SCH. 'Tis fastened!
BEN. Give me a word, pray!
SCH. (opening the door, after consulting with his friends) At once.
BEN. (entering smilingly, showing a paper to MARCEL) The rent!
MAR. (with great cordiality) Hallo! give him a seat, friends!
BEN. Do not trouble, I beg you.
SCH. (with gentle firmness, obliging BENOIT to sit down) Sit down!
MAR. (offering BENOIT a glass of wine) Some Bordeaux?
RUD. Your health!
BEN. Thank you.
COL. Your health!
SCH. Drink up!
RUD. Good health! (all drink)
BEN. (to MARCEL, putting down his glass and showing his paper.)
'Tis the quarter's rent I call for.
MAR. (ingenuously) Glad to hear it.
BEN. And therefore--
SCH. (interrupting) Another tipple? (fills up the glasses)
BEN. Thank you.
RUD. Your health!
COL. Your health!
RUD., MAR., SCH. and COL. (all touching BENOIT'S glass) Drink

we all your health, sir! (all drink)
BEN. (resuming, to MARCEL) To you I come, as the quarter now is
ended; You have promised,
MAR. To keep it I intended. (Shows BENOIT the money on the table.)
RUD. (aside to MARCEL) Art mad?
SCH. (aside to MARCEL) What do you--
MAR. (to BENOIT, without noticing the two) Hast seen it? Then give
your care a respite, And join our friendly circle. Tell me how many
years Boast you of, my dear sir?
BEN. My years! Spare me, I pray.
RUD. Our own age, less or more?
BEN. (protesting) Much more, very much more.
(While they make BENOIT talk, they fill up his glass immediately it is
empty.)
COL. He says 'tis less or more.
MAR. (mischievously, in a low voice) T'other evening at Mabille I
caught him in a passage of love.
BEN. (uneasily) Me!
MAR. At Mabille. T'other evening I caught