Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/377
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EPILOGUE TO THE LOVES OF RODOLPHE AND MIMI.
311
“And a Leghorn straw hat,” continued the viscount.
“No,” said Mimi, “if you want to please me, buy me this.”
And she showed him the magazine in which she had just been reading Rodolphe’s poetry.
“Oh! as to that, no,” said the viscount, vexed.
“Very well,” said Mimi, coldly, “I will buy it myself with money I will earn. In point of fact, I would rather that it was not with yours.”
And for two days Mimi went back to her old flower-maker’s workrooms, where she earned enough to buy this number. She learned Rodolphe’s poetry by heart, and, to annoy Vicomte Paul, repeated it all day long to her friends. The verses were as follows:
“When I was seeking where to pledge my truth
Chance brought me face to face with you one day;
At once I offered you my heart, my youth,
‘Do with them what you will,’ I dared to say.
Chance brought me face to face with you one day;
At once I offered you my heart, my youth,
‘Do with them what you will,’ I dared to say.
“But ‘what you would, was cruel, dear; alas!
The youth I trusted with you is no more;
The heart is shattered like a fallen glass,
And the wind sings a funeral mass
On the deserted chamber floor,
Where he who loved you ne’er may pass.
The youth I trusted with you is no more;
The heart is shattered like a fallen glass,
And the wind sings a funeral mass
On the deserted chamber floor,
Where he who loved you ne’er may pass.
“Between us now, my dear, ’tis all U. P.,
I am a spectre and a phantom you,
Our love is dead and buried; if you agree,
We’ll sing around its tombstone dirges due.
I am a spectre and a phantom you,
Our love is dead and buried; if you agree,
We’ll sing around its tombstone dirges due.
“But let us take an air in a low key,
Lest we should strain our voices, more or less;
Some solemn minor, free from flourishes;
I’ll take the bass, sing you the melody.
Lest we should strain our voices, more or less;
Some solemn minor, free from flourishes;
I’ll take the bass, sing you the melody.
“ Mi, re, mi, do, re, la,—ah! not that song!
Hearing the song that once you used to sing
My heart would palpitate—though dead so long—
And, at the De Profundis, upward spring.
Hearing the song that once you used to sing
My heart would palpitate—though dead so long—
And, at the De Profundis, upward spring.