Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/357

love you, and you love me!’ Then in the end, always quite in the end, when, after having all very well put triple bandages over our eyes, we see ourselves the dupes of our mistakes, we drive away the wretch who was our idol of yesterday; we take back from her the golden veils of poesy, which, on the morrow, we again cast on the shoulders of some other unknown, who becomes at once an aureola-surrounded idol. That is what we all are—monstrous egoists—who love love for love’s sake—you understand me? We sip the divine liquor from the first cup that comes to hand. ‘What matter the bottle, so long as we draw intoxication from it?’”

“What you say is as true as that two and two make four,” said Rodolphe to the poet.

“Yes,” replied the latter, “it is true, and as sad as three-quarters of the things that are true. Good-night.”

Two days later Mademoiselle Mimi learned that Rodolphe had a new mistress. She only asked one thing—whether he kissed her hands as often as he used to kiss her own?

“Quite as often,” replied Marcel. “In addition, he is kissing the hairs of her head one after the other, and they are to remain with one another till he has finished.”

“Ah!” replied Mimi, passing her hand through her own tresses. It was lucky he did not think of doing the same with me, or we should have remained together all our lives. Do you think it is really true that he no longer loves me at all?”

“Humph—and you, do you still love him?”

“I! I never loved him in my life.”

“Yes, Mimi, yes. You loved him at those moments when a woman’s heart changes place. You loved him; do nothing to deny it; it is your justification.”

“Bah!” said Mimi, “he loves another now.”