Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/392

“I have had no dinner,” she whispered to the artist, so as not to be heard by Rodolphe, who was gnawing his handkerchief to keep him from bursting into sobs.

“Draw up, Rodolphe,” said Marcel to his friend, “we will all three have supper together.”

“No,” said the poet remaining in his corner.

“Are you angry, Rodolphe, that I have come here?” asked Mimi gently. “Where could I go to?”

“No, Mimi,” replied Rodolphe, “only I am grieved to see you like this.”

“It is all my own fault, Rodolphe, I do not complain, what is done, is done, so think no more about it than I do. Cannot you still be my friend, because you have been something else? You can, can you not? Well then, do not frown on me, and come and sit down at the table with us.”

She rose to take him by the hand, but was so weak that she could not take a step, and sank back into her chair.

“The heat has dazed me,” she said, “I cannot stand.”

“Come,” said Marcel to Rodolphe, “come and join us.”

The poet drew up to the table, and began to eat with them. Mimi was very lively.

“My dear girl, it is impossible for us to get you a room in the house.”

“I must go away then,” said she, trying to rise.

“No, no,” said Marcel, “I have another way of arranging things, you can stay in my room, and I will go and sleep with Rodolphe.”

“It will put you out very much, I am afraid,” said Mimi, “but it will not be for long, only a couple of days.”

“It will not put us out at all in that case,” replied Marecel, “so it is understood, you are at home here, and we are going to Rodolphe’s room. Good-night, Mimi, sleep well.”