Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/389

“Who the deuce can it be at this time of night?” said the painter, going to open it.

A cry of astonishment burst from him when he had done so.

It was Mimi.

As the room was very dark Rodolphe did not at first recognize his mistress, and only distinguishing a woman, he thought that it was some passing conquest of his friend’s, and out of discretion prepared to withdraw.

“I am disturbing you,” said Mimi, who had remained on the threshold.

At her voice Rodolphe dropped on his chair as though thunderstruck.

“Good-evening,” said Mimi, coming up to him and shaking him by the hand which he allowed her to take mechanically.

“What the deuce brings you here and at this time of night?” asked Marcel.

“I was very cold,” said Mimi, shivering; “I saw a light in your room as I was passing along the street, and although it was very late I came up.”

She was still shivering, her voice had a crystalline sonority that pierced Rodolphe’s heart like a funeral knell, and filled it with a mournful alarm. He looked at her more attentively. It was no longer Mimi, but her ghost.

Marcel made her sit down beside the fire.

Mimi smiled at the sight of the flame dancing merrily on the hearth.

“It is very nice,” said she, holding out her poor hands blue with cold. “By the way, Monsieur Marcel, you do not know why I have called on you?”

“No; indeed.”

“Well,” said Mimi, “I simply came to ask you whether you could get them to let me a room here. I have just been