LA BOHèME

When Louis Philippe, the Citizen King of the French, was vainly trying to retain his seat upon a tottering throne, two young students might have been seen one cold Christmas Eve at work in an attic in the Quartier Latin, in Paris.

These two were Marcel, a painter, and Rudolf, a poet; two careless, light-hearted young men, who, together with their friends, Schaunard, a musician, and Colline, a philosopher, loved to regard themselves as great artists, whom a cold and unappreciative world had as yet failed to recognise.

Full of buoyant spirits, daring, reckless, and happy-go-lucky, these four students seemed to pass a charmed existence; a life which, though full of ups and downs, of wealth and poverty, of joy and sorrow, they would not have exchanged for any other, since they were true Bohemians at heart, to whom the intoxicating atmosphere of the Quartier Latin was as the very breath of life. Extravagant to the last degree, they spent their money lavishly when Fortune smiled upon them, feasting like lords, indulging their sweethearts, snatching at every joy within their reach, and reckless of what the next morn might bring forth; and when rainy days came quickly once more, nothing remaining to tell the tale of their recent magnificence, they cheerfully returned to work again, no whit dismayed by reverses, but eager to retrieve their broken fortunes. For joy was to be found even in poverty; and sparkling wit, redundant spirits, and optimistic belief in a dazzling future never forsook them, whether they dined off venison or a dry crust! Free, untrammelled by social conventions, they obeyed the magic impulse of their quickly-coursing young blood and the dictates of generous hearts and vivid minds; and, sunshine or rain, nothing could damp the ardour of these bold spirits in their impetuous pursuit of the fairest joys of life.

Thus it was with Rudolf and Marcel on this Christmas Eve; for though their fortunes were at that moment at the lowest ebb, and they knew not whence their next meal would come, yet were they merry and light-hearted, as though the fickle goddess had never ceased to smile. There was no fire in the grate, and no food in the cupboard, but both enthusiasts tried to believe that neither were necessary even on such a freezing day. Whilst Rudolf endeavoured to warm himself by writing fiery matter for his fondly imagined "great" journal, The Beaver, Marcel worked vigorously at his equally "great" picture, "The Passage of the Red Sea," wielding his brushes with fingers stiff with cold, stamping his feet and changing position frequently in order to keep circulation going; but at last, both were obliged to confess that they were nearly frozen, and that unless they could make a fire of some kind, their "genius" would soon be lost to the world for ever!

"Sooner than that," cried Marcel, "let's make a bonfire of my great picture!"

But Rudolf declared that such a remedy would be worse than the disease, since he could not endure the odour of burning paint; and then, seized with a happy thought, he dragged forth from a hidden recess the MS. of a mighty drama with which he had once had hopes of astonishing the world, and declaring heroically that its pungent wit and sparkling dialogue should give them warmth, and the world would have to bear its loss as best it could. So, act by act, and page by page, the play was recklessly set alight; and as the two friends drew up their chairs and warmed their hands at the grateful blaze, they merrily bade one another to observe the bright sparks of wit that flashed from the dusty pages!

Whilst they were thus engaged, Colline, the "great" philosopher, entered the room, bearing under his arms a bundle of books, with which he had been vainly endeavouring to raise funds for the general use; and, flinging the parcel on the table, announced in an aggrieved tone that Christmas Eve was indeed highly honoured, since no pawning was allowed that day! Then, observing that a fire was actually burning in the grate, which he had left black and cheerless, he ran eagerly to thaw his frozen limbs, joining gaily in the applause that greeted each addition to the greedy bonfire, and hailing Rudolf as a noble benefactor of freezing mankind.

Just as the last flame was dying down, a pleasant interruption came; for two serving boys suddenly entered, the one carrying abundant fuel, and the other laden with rich provisions of all kinds. Having solemnly laid down their burdens, the lads departed without a word; and then the three students, not troubling to inquire into the cause of this timely miracle, immediately fell upon the good things with loud cries of delight. Colline snatched up the fuel with frantic haste, and quickly built up a roaring fire; whilst Marcel and Rudolf seized upon the provisions, and proceeded to lay out a feast with lavish extravagance, and sublime disregard of the next day's needs.

With the entrance of Schaunard, the musician, they learnt that he was the giver of the feast, having had a happy and unexpected windfall, which, with the usual generosity of the Quartier Latin, he was anxious to share with his friends; and then, the table being spread to their satisfaction, the four students sat down to enjoy the treat.

Just when the hilarity was at its height, there came a knock at the door, and the voice of Benoit, the landlord, was heard calling for admission; and, knowing well enough that this unwelcome intruder could only have come for one purpose—to demand his long-overdue rent—the students were at first inclined to refuse him admission.

Then, having hastily arranged a better plan of action for getting rid of him for a longer time, they opened the door with a flourish, and as Benoit entered with a rent-paper, which he presented to Marcel as the tenant of the room, they greeted him with a boisterous welcome, expressing themselves as overjoyed to see him, and inviting him to join them at their feast.

Though amazed at being received in such a friendly manner, Benoit walked unerringly into the trap that had been laid for him; and, always ready to accept luxuries at another's expense, he willingly allowed himself to be led to the table and helped to the good things. The wily students, enjoying their trick immensely, plied the greedy landlord with wine until his brains became muddled and his vision too uncertain to observe that he was being laughed at; and then, cunningly leading the conversation round to love and gallantry, they declared that he must be a sad rogue with the ladies, since they had heard of his many amours and intrigues. Benoit, though somewhat advanced in years, was delighted at being taken for such a gay young Lothario, and agreed with all they said, even enlarging on his imaginary adventures and painting himself in more glaring colours still; but this boasting, to his astonishment, was not received with the approval he expected. For the four students, suddenly pretending to be shocked beyond measure at such licentious conduct and declaring that one so debauched was not fit to breathe the same air with themselves, seized the silly old braggart by the scruff of the neck, and bundled him out of the room and down the stairs with more haste and force than ceremony.

Knowing that they were now safe for a few hours, the friends returned to the room, laughing merrily at the easy way in which they had disposed of the tiresome landlord for the time being; and then Schaunard, declaring that it was folly to remain within doors when Christmas gaieties were afoot without, suggested that they should divide the remainder of the money he had brought and go forth to spend it, concluding with a supper at the Café Momus, one of their favourite haunts when in funds.

This suggestion being received with acclamation, they proceeded to carry it out at once; and having divided the money equally between them, they set off in high good humour to spend it, with the exception of Rudolf, who remained behind to finish the article for his new and precious journal, promising to join his companions in a short time at the café.

When his three friends had noisily departed, Rudolf brought the candles nearer to his work, and began to write; but he had scarcely written a few words, when he heard a timid knock at the door, and on opening it, was amazed to see a poorly-clad but lovely young girl standing there, holding a key in one hand and an extinguished candle in the other. Her beauty was of that ethereal, refined, and exquisitely delicate quality that particularly appeals to the sensitive poetic mind; and as Rudolf gazed upon the girl's velvety pale skin, slight graceful form, soft dreamy eyes, and tiny white hands, a wave of joy flooded his artistic soul at the mere sight of one so fair, and yet so frail.

So fragile, indeed, was the young girl, that the effort of climbing the stairs had completely exhausted her and brought on a violent fit of coughing; and scarcely had she explained that she had called to beg a light for her candle, which had gone out, than she was seized with sudden faintness, and would have fallen to the ground had not Rudolf caught her in his arms.

Quickly placing the girl in a chair, the young student revived her with water, and made her drink some wine afterwards, watching her the while with increasing interest and a strange joy, which he felt instinctively was reciprocated; for when his fair visitor opened her eyes, she looked upon him with the sweet shy glances of newly-born passion.

Having recovered from her swoon, however, the girl arose at once, and risked again for her candle to be lighted; and when Rudolf had performed this small office for her, trembling with emotion as he placed the light in the tiny hand, which seemed to him one of her greatest charms, she bade him farewell, and opened the door. Then, remembering her key, which she had dropped when seized with faintness, she turned to look for it; and in so doing, the draught from the door blew out the light once more. At the same moment, Rudolf's candle was also extinguished, so that the room was plunged in darkness; and the young student, moved by a sudden impulse, slipped round to the door and fastened it.

Both were now groping in the darkness, the girl seeking her key, which Rudolf presently found and put in his own pocket, still making no effort to get a light; for he was filled with a sudden fear that this sweet young creature would shortly leave him, and he longed above all things to prolong her stay. They talked to each other in a happy way as they continued the search in the dark; and presently, Rudolf, guided by his companion's sweet voice, came close to her side, and caught her little hand in his. Thrilled by her touch, the young student could no longer restrain the passion that now filled his heart with such exquisite joy; and folding her in his arms, he poured forth an eager declaration of his love, to which, to his delight, the young girl as gladly responded.

Having presently described his own life and occupation, Rudolf questioned his companion as to hers; and the girl informed him that her name was Mimi, and that she worked fine embroideries for a living.

Whilst they were still talking happily together, the voices of Marcel, Colline, and Schaunard were heard outside, calling loudly for their companion to come and join them in their pleasure, to which Rudolf returned an impatient answer, angry at the interruption; but Mimi, thus learning that her lover had gaiety afoot, suggested that she should go with him, that they might pass the evening together. Rudolf, overjoyed that she was thus willing to acknowledge him as her accepted lover, gladly made ready to go out; and, hand locked in hand, the two went forth joyously to join in the merry-making of Christmas Eve.

They soon reached an open square, at one side of which was the Café Momus, the favourite meeting-place of the Quartier Latin; and here they were joined by the three students, who received Mimi with a hearty welcome.

The square presented a lively scene, and was filled with a crowd of students, work-girls, and children, with their parents, bargaining at the brilliantly lighted shops and stalls, and all bent on light-hearted enjoyment; and the shouting of the street vendors as they called their wares, the gleeful cries of the children, and the laughter of the youths and maidens as they chatted and made merry together, filled the air with a confused medley of sound, the keynote of which was reckless mirth.

Rudolf, seeing a pretty bonnet trimmed with pink roses in one of the shops, went in with Mimi to buy it for her, utterly regardless of the fact that its price swallowed all his share of Schaunard's windfall; and when the delighted Mimi had placed this fascinating "creation" upon her dainty head, they went to join their companions at the Café Momus for supper.

Finding the café crowded within, the three friends seated themselves at a table outside, from whence they could the better observe the amusing scene taking place in the square; and having ordered an extravagant supper, they began to enjoy themselves with their usual careless abandon.

As they sat there, an extremely pretty, coquettish, and smartly-dressed girl approached the café, accompanied by a fussy old gentleman, with whom she presently sat down at an outside supper-table a few yards further along; and at the sight of the newcomer, Marcel turned pale, and began to fidget nervously in his chair. For this aggravatingly pretty young woman was Musetta, a former sweetheart of Marcel's, with whom he had quarrelled some time ago, and who had in revenge quickly found a new admirer. These two really loved each other, but their quarrels and separations were frequent; for Musetta was a born coquette, and also having a passion for fine clothes and luxuries such as Marcel seldom had the means to provide, she would occasionally desert him for an adorer more richly endowed with the means of satisfying her extravagant wants. Her latest conquest was this fussy old noble, Alcindoro de Mitonneaux, who had been so flattered by the pretty girl's attentions, which she bestowed on him in pique at Marcel's conduct, that still considering himself to be somewhat of a beau, he had allowed her to twist him round her clever little finger with ease, and to drag from him much of his carefully hoarded wealth.

Thus it came about that Musetta was gorgeously attired, and was filled with elation at the effect her finery made upon all who knew her amongst the Christmas crowd; but upon observing Marcel taking supper outside the Café Momus, she had hoped specially to attract his attention, and for this purpose had seated herself opposite, for the sight of this man, whom she really loved, had immediately dissatisfied her with her present uninteresting cavalier, of whom she had already tired.

But Marcel at first refused to look in the direction of this coquettish temptress, whom he still so passionately adored; and then, Musetta, annoyed at such tantalising behaviour, resorted to noise in order to make her presence noted. She dropped a plate with a great clatter upon the hard ground, where it broke into many pieces; she talked in a loud voice to her companion, scolding him vigorously when he remonstrated with her for her noisiness; and then, finding that she was still unnoticed, she began, as a last resource, to sing, to the great disgust of old Alcindoro, who irritably endeavoured to make her stop.

The sound of Musetta's sweet singing was more than Marcel was proof against; and, fascinated in spite of himself, he turned his eyes upon the girl with an intense look of passionate entreaty and longing.

Musetta, recognising at once that her lover had capitulated, now sought to rid herself of the tiresome old beau at her side; and, uttering an exclamation of pretended pain, she declared that her foot was pinched beyond bearing. Then, taking off one of her shoes, she thrust it into the hand of Alcindoro, and imperiously bade him to take it to a boot shop in an adjacent street, and bring her a pair of shoes one size larger; and the fussy old gentleman, not daring to refuse, being in wholesome fear of his charming inamorata's wayward temper and sharp tongue, hobbled away with the shoe, grumbling furiously.

The students had watched this little man?uvre with great amusement; and when the foolish old dupe had disappeared, Marcel rushed across to Musetta, and embraced her with loving fervour.

Whilst the reunited lovers were thus rejoicing together, the sound of beating drums announced the approach of a patrol of soldiers; and immediately the crowd of merry-makers in the square gathered to one side to leave a clear space for the picket to march through. The soldiers soon appeared, headed by a band; and as they passed through the square to the main thoroughfare, the crowd quickly followed, anxious to see the tattoo that was about to take place.

The students decided to join this merry throng also; and, having by this time no money left to pay for the luxurious supper they had just enjoyed, Musetta mischievously suggested that they should leave their bill on her table, and tell the waiter that old Alcindoro would pay for it. Hailing this suggestion with hilarious applause, the gay students gave the necessary instructions to the waiter, and hurried quickly from the square, Rudolf and Mimi arm-in-arm, Schaunard playing a new pipe he had just bought, and Marcel and Colline carrying Musetta between them, for, having but one shoe, she could not walk.

When the pompous Alcindoro presently returned with the pair of shoes he had been despatched to buy, he found the supper-table deserted, and his fickle charmer flown; and upon the obsequious waiter presenting him with the long bill run up by the extravagant students, with which had been incorporated his own smaller one, he realised the trick that had been played upon him, and began to storm lustily, though in the end he had to submit and settle the bill, rather than become the laughing-stock of the café.

Marcel and Musetta now passed some months happily together, for though the coquettish girl still took every possible opportunity for a flirtation with anyone who might happen to admire her, yet she really loved Marcel only. But she would not be tyrannised over, for her high spirit could not brook restraint; and if Marcel showed signs of wishing to curb her inordinate love of fine clothes and admiration, she quickly resented it. The two, however, fared better than Rudolf and Mimi, who, in spite of their passionate love, yet spent a miserable existence together.

For Rudolf's love was of that all-absorbing and madly jealous nature, that was for ever imagining and fostering suspicions of the object of his affections; and not a glance nor a word could he bear Mimi to bestow elsewhere. Their life was, therefore, passed in a constant state of misunderstandings; for though they might be deliriously happy one day, they would suffer for this by many weeks of misery. Often they were on the point of separating for ever; and, indeed, at last they finally agreed to this.

At the time when Mimi, after a great mental struggle, came to this resolution, she had been avoided by Rudolf for some little time; and, having learnt that he had joined Marcel and Musetta at an inn on the borders of the Latin Quartier, she made her way there one cold wintry morning.

As she stood waiting outside the inn for Marcel, to whom she had sent a message desiring him to help her to carry out her resolve, she was seized with a violent fit of coughing; for of late the wasting disease to which she had always been inclined had developed with alarming rapidity, and her frail form was constantly shaken by a racking cough.

When Marcel presently appeared, he was shocked at her wasted looks, and anxiously tried to draw her into the inn; but Mimi refused to enter for fear of meeting with Rudolf. She then told Marcel of the constantly strained relations between herself and Rudolf, whose mad jealousy made them both wretched; and she implored him to help her to part finally from her lover, since she felt that their lives would be at least more peaceful apart.

Whilst she was still speaking of this, Rudolf himself appeared in the doorway of the inn; and, fearing to meet him just then, Mimi crept behind a group of plane trees as he approached. As Marcel turned to greet his friend, Rudolf declared that he had come to seek his assistance in effecting his final separation from Mimi, describing their strained relations in very much the same way as the poor girl herself had done; and then, his bitter tone giving way to a softer mood, he admitted that his jealous suspicions were really groundless, being caused only by his great love for her. He next began to speak in anxious tones of Mimi's frail health, declaring that her constant cough, wasted form, and feverish looks filled him with despair, since he knew that they were the unmistakable heralds of an early death; and Mimi, who could not fail to hear all that passed, thus realising for the first time the doom that awaited her, was so overcome with woe that her sobs quickly made her presence known to her lover.

In a moment Rudolf was at her side, embracing her tenderly, and entreating her to enter the inn for warmth and refreshment; but this Mimi again refused to do, declaring that she had come to bid him a final farewell, having at last made up her mind to see him no more, since they could not be happy together. Rudolf, refusing to believe her in earnest, passionately pleaded his cause with her, so that her resolution soon melted away; and whilst the once more reconciled lovers were thus happily engaged, Marcel, hearing Musetta's saucy laugh pealing forth from the inn, dashed within, fully convinced that she was carrying on a lively flirtation in his absence. His conviction proved to be a right one, for presently the two emerged from the inn squabbling violently, Marcel jealously accusing the girl of accepting the attentions of a new admirer, and declaring that he would not permit her to be so free with her smiles. The high-spirited, admiration-loving Musetta resented this interference with her pleasure, for her wayward nature would not brook restraint; and hotly declaring that she should flirt just whenever she pleased, she impetuously bade Marcel farewell, and flounced away in a pet.

Mimi and Rudolf, however, were by this time quite reconciled to each other, and yet once again they entered upon a phase of delirious joy. But this happy phase, like the many others that had preceded it, also quickly came to an end; and the separation that followed was the longest they had yet endured.

Rudolf and Marcel, both being thus deprived of their loved ones, joined their student friends once more, and tried to interest themselves in their work as formerly, endeavouring to heal their sore hearts in the pursuit of art. But neither could forget the joy that had been theirs; and one day as they sat working together in the same old attic in which pretty Mimi had first introduced herself, the thoughts of both turned back to the days of their happy love. Marcel, whenever his companion's glance was averted, would press to his lips a bunch of ribbons that had once belonged to Musetta; and Rudolf, when he thought himself unobserved by his friend, would take from a drawer beside him the little rose-trimmed bonnet Mimi had left him as a keepsake, and tenderly caress it.

Though it was now many months since they had parted, they had seen the girls from time to time, though from afar; and observing that they were richly clad, knew that they had found new admirers. They were speaking of this as they sat at work, making a sorry pretence of not caring about the circumstance, which, however, revived all the pain in their hearts; and since this attempt at mutual comfort was a dismal failure, they gladly hailed the arrival of Colline and Schaunard, who brought with them a very meagre meal, consisting of four small rolls and a herring. For the friends were just at that time going through one of their frequent penniless stages; but with their usual careless good-humour, they sat down to the humble food with as much hilarity as though it had been a feast of the highest order, gaily inviting one another to imagine that the crusts were dainty dishes, and pledging one another in water, as though it had been champagne.

Whilst they were thus making merry, the door was suddenly opened; and to the astonishment of all, Musetta entered, wearing an anxious face, and appearing much agitated. In answer to the eager questions poured upon her, she announced that Mimi was without, but was too weak and exhausted to mount the stairs, being, in fact, in a dying condition; and upon hearing that his beloved one was so near, Rudolf rushed to her assistance, and, with the help of his friends, brought her into the room, and laid her tenderly upon the bed.

Mimi and Rudolf embraced one another passionately; and whilst they were thus absorbed in their joy, Musetta related to the others the reason of their sudden visit. Having heard that Mimi had left her rich admirer, and was now lying in the last stages of consumption, she had hastened to her side; and upon the poor exhausted girl expressing a passionate desire to see Rudolf once more before her death, she had undertaken to bring her to him, and by half carrying her had succeeded in this difficult enterprise. She now asked the students if they had any food or cordials with which to revive the fainting girl, and was sadly informed that they had nothing in their store, and no money either; but Colline and Schaunard presently left the room, taking with them an overcoat which they meant to pawn.

Mimi presently motioned Marcel to her side, and, placing Musetta's hand in his, desired that they would be reconciled once more for her sake; and she was filled with joy when the two embraced, and declared that they still loved one another dearly.

Then Musetta, anxious to leave the dying girl alone with her lover, that they might have a last happy talk together, suggested to Marcel that they should go to fetch Mimi's little muff, which she had asked for, being unable to keep her hands warm; and so the two presently departed on this kindly errand.

Finding that they were now alone, Mimi lay happily in Rudolf's arms, and told him again and again that her love for him had never changed; and the young student, overjoyed at thus learning that he was still beloved by the being he himself adored, declared passionately that they would never again be parted, in his gladness failing to realise that Mimi's little spark of life was even now almost extinguished.

Schaunard and Colline presently returned with food and a cordial they had bought with the money obtained by pawning the coat, saying also that a doctor would shortly arrive; and soon after Marcel and Musetta appeared with the muff they had been to fetch.

Mimi placed her tiny hands in the muff with childish pleasure; and presently, declaring that she now felt quite warm, she closed her eyes and seemed to rest.

Rudolf then gently moved away, and questioned his friends in a low voice as to when the doctor would arrive; but when Musetta approached the bed with the cordial she had poured out, she saw to her sorrow that Mimi was already dead.

Hearing her exclamation of consternation, Rudolf ran forward and took Mimi's cold little hand in his; and then, gradually realising the terrible truth, he uttered a cry of anguish and sank, overcome with grief and despair, beside her lifeless form.