(Looks for the key on the floor; sliding over it, he knocks against the table, deposits his candlestick, and searches for the key with his hands on the floor.)

MIMI. Where can it be?

(Finds the key, lets an exclamation escape, then checks himself and puts the key in his pocket.)

RUD. Ah!

MIMI. Have you found it?

RUD. No.

MIMI. I think so.

RUD. In very truth.

MIMI. Found it?

RUD. Not yet.

(Feigns to search, but guided by Mimi'S voice and movements, approaches her; as Mimi is stooping his hand meets hers, which he clasps.)

MIMI. (rising to her feet, surprised) Ah!

RUD. (holding Mimi's hand, with emotion)
Your tiny hand is frozen,
Let me warm it into life;
Our search is useless,
In darkness all is hidden,
'Ere long the light of the moon shall aid us,
Yes, in the moonlight our search let us resume.
One moment, pretty maiden,
While I tell you in a trice,
Who I am, what I do,
And how I live. Shall I?

(Mimi is silent.)

I am, I am a poet!
What's my employment? Writing.
Is that a living? Hardly.
I've wit though wealth be wanting,
Ladies of rank and fashion
All inspire me with passion;
In dreams and fond illusions,
Or castles in the air,
Richer is none on earth than I.

Bright eyes as yours, believe me,
Steal my priceless jewels,
In fancy's store-house cherished,
Your roguish eyes have robbed me,
Of all my dreams bereft me,
Dreams that are fair, yet fleeting.
Fled are my truant fancies,
Regrets I do not cherish,
For now life's rosy morn is breaking,
Now golden love is waking.
Now that I've told my story,
Pray tell me yours, too;
Tell me frankly, who are you?
Say, will you tell?

MIMI. (after some hesitation)
They call me Mimi
But my name is Lucia;
My story is a short one—
Fine satin stuffs or silk
I deftly embroider;
I am content and happy;
The rose and lily I make for pastime.
These flowers give me pleasure
As in magical accents
They speak to me of love,
Of beauteous springtime.
Of fancies and of visions bright they tell me,
Such as poets, and only poets, know.
Do you hear me?

RUD. Yes!

MIMI. They call me Mimi,
But I know not why;
All by myself I take my frugal supper,
To Mass not oft repairing,
Yet oft I pray to God.
In my room live I lonely,
Up at the top there, in my little chamber
Above the house tops so lofty.
Yet the glad sun first greets me;
After the frost is over
Spring's first, sweet, fragrant kiss is mine,
Her first bright sunbeam is mine,
A rose as her petals are opening
Do I tenderly cherish. Ah! what a charm
Lies for me in her fragrance!
Alas! those flowers I make,
The flowers I fashion, alas! they have no perfume!
More than just this I cannot find to tell you,
I'm a tiresome neighbor that at an awkward moment
intrudes upon you.

SCH. (from below) Eh! Rudolph!

COL. Rudolph!

MAR. Hallo! you hear not?
Don't dawdle!

(At the shouts of his friends RUDOLPH is annoyed.)

COL. Poetaster, come!

SCH. What has happened, idler?

(Getting more annoyed RUDOLPH opens the window to answer his friends; the moonlight enters, brightening the room.)

RUD. I have still three lines to finish.

MIMI. (approaching the window) Who are they?

RUD. My friends.

SCH. You will know they're yours.

MAR. What do you there, so lonely?

RUD. I'm not lonely. We are two.
So to Momus go on.
There keep us places; we will follow quickly.

(Remains still at the window to make sure of his friends going.)

MAR., SCH. and COL. (gradually departing)
Momus, Momus, Momus!
Gently and soft to supper let us go.

MAR. And poetry let flow.

SCH. and COL. Momus, Momus, Momus!

(MIMI goes nearer the window, so that the moon's rays fall on her while RUDOLPH contemplates her ecstatically.)

RUD. Lovely maid in the moonlight!

MAR. And poetry let flow.

RUD. Your face entrancing.
Like radiant seraph from on high appears!
The dream that I would ever, ever dream, returns.

RUD. | MIMI. | | Love alone o'er hearts has sway Heart to heart and soul to soul | Ah Love! to thee do we surrender. Love binds us in his fetters. | (_yielding to her lover's (placing his arm around MIMI embrace_) Love now shall rule our hearts | Sweet to my soul the magic voice alone, | Of love its music chanteth, Life's fairest flower is love! | Life's fairest flower is love! Life's fairest flower is love! | (RUDOLPH kisses her.)

MIMI. (disengaging herself) No, I pray you!

RUD. My sweetheart!

MIMI. Your comrades await you!

RUD. Do you then dismiss me?

MIMI. I should like—no, I dare not!

RUD. Say!

MIMI. (coquettishly) Could I not come with you?

RUD. What, Mimi?
It would be much more pleasant here to stay.
Outside 'tis chilly!

MIMI. To you I'll be neighbor! I'll be always near you.

RUD. On returning?

MIMI. (archly) Who knows, sir?

RUD. Take my arm, my little maiden!

MIMI. (giving her arm to RUDOLPH) I obey you, my lord!

(They go, arm in arm, to the door.)

RUD. You love me? Say!

MIMI. (with abandon)
I love thee!

RUD. and MIMI. My love! My love!

ACT II

"…Gustave Colline, the great philosopher; Marcel, the great painter; Rudolph, the great poet, and Schaunard, the great musician —as they were wont to style them selves—regularly frequented the Cafe Momus, where, being inseparable, they were nicknamed 'The Four Musketeers.'

"Indeed, they always went about together, played together, dined together, often without paying the bill, yet always with a beautiful harmony worthy of the Conservatoire Orchestra.

"Mademoiselle Musetta was a pretty girl of twenty.

"Very coquettish, rather ambitious, but without any pretensions to spelling.

"Oh! those delightful suppers in the Quartier Latin!

"A perpetual alternative between a blue brougham and an omnibus; between the Rue Breda and the Quartier Latin.

"…Well! what of that? From time to time I feel the need of breathing the atmosphere of such a life as this. My madcap existence is like a song; each of my love-episodes forms a verse of it, but Marcel is its refrain!"

ACT II

IN THE LATIN QUARTER

CHRISTMAS