Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/225

And he fell asleep, making a mould for a cast of his face in the cream cheese that was before him in his plate.

“What is he harping about Thursday?” observed Marecel.

“Ah! I have it,” said Rodolphe, who began to understand the persistency of the philosopher, tormented by a fixed idea, it is on account of his article in ‘The Beaver.’ Listen, he is dreaming of it aloud.”

“Good,” said Schaunard, “he shall not have any coffee, eh, madame?”

“By the way,” said Rodolphe, “pour out the coffee, Mimi.”

The latter was about to rise, when Colline, who had recovered a little self-possession, caught her round the waist and whispered confidentially in her ear:

“Madame, the coffee plant is a native of Arabia, where it was discovered by a goat. Its use extended to Europe. Voltaire used to drink seventy cups a day. I like mine without sugar, but very hot.”

“Good heavens! what a learned man!” thought Mimi, as she brought the coffee and pipes.

However time was getting on, midnight had long since struck, and Rodolphe sought to make his guests understand that it was time for them to withdraw. Marcel, who retained all his senses, got up to go.

But Schaunard perceived that there was still some brandy in a bottle, and declared that it could not be midnight so long as there was any left. As to Colline he was sitting astride his chair and murmuring in a low voice:

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.”

“Hang it all,” said Rodolphe, greatly embarrassed, “I cannot give them quarters here to-night; formerly it was all very well, but now it is another thing,” he added, looking at Mimi, whose softly kindling eye seemed to