Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/224

But it is not the district that makes the wine, and our Bohemians accepted as the authentic growth of Ai the liquor that was served out to them in the appropriate glasses, and despite the scant degree of vivacity shown by the cork in popping from its prison, went into ecstacies over the excellence of the vintage on seeing the quantity of froth. Schaunard summoned up all his remaining self-possession to make a mistake as regards glasses, and help himself to that of Colline, who kept gravely dipping his biscuit in the mustard-pot as he explained to Mademoiselle Mimi the philosophical article that was to appear in “The Beaver.” All at once he grew pale, and asked leave to go to the window and look at the sunset, although it was ten o’clock at night, and the sun had set long ago.

“It is a pity the Champagne is not iced,” said Schaunard, again trying to substitute his empty glass for the full one of his neighbor, an attempt this time without success.

“Madame,” observed Colline, who had ceased to take the fresh air, to Mimi, “Champagne is iced with ice. Ice is formed by the condensation of water, in Latin aqua. Water freezes at two degrees, and there are four seasons, spring, summer, autumn and winter, which was the cause of the retreat from Moscow.”

All at once Colline suddenly slapped Rodolphe on the shoulder, and in a thick voice that seemed to mash all the syllables together, said to him—

“To-morrow is Thursday, is it not?”

“No,” replied Rodolphe, “to-morrow is Sunday.”

“Thursday.”

“No, I tell you; to-morrow is Sunday.”

“Sunday!” said Colline, wagging his head; “not a bit of it, it is Thursday.”