Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/395

And lifting up the sheet of the bed a little she showed the artist her shoulders, neck and arms.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Marcel mournfully, “poor girl.”

“Is it not true, my friend, that I do not deceive myself and that I am soon going to die?”

“But how did you get into such a state in so short a time?”

“Ah!” replied Mimi, “with the life I have been leading for the past two months it is not astonishing; nights spent in tears, days passed in posing in studios without any fire, poor living, grief, and then you do not know all, I tried to poison myself with Eau de Javelle. I was saved, but not for long, as you see. Besides, I have never been very strong, in short it is my fault; if I had remained quietly with Rodolphe I should not be like this. Poor fellow, here I am again upon his hands, but it will not be for long, the last dress he will give me will be all white, Marcel, and I shall be buried in it. Ah! if you knew how I suffer because I am going to die. Rodolphe knows that I am ill, he remained for over an hour without speaking last night when he saw my arms and shoulders so thin. He no longer recognized his Mimi. Alas! my very looking-glass does not know me. Ah! all the same I was pretty and he did love me. Oh, God!” she exclaimed, burying her face in Marcel’s hands, “I am going to leave you and Rodolphe too, oh, God!” and sobs choked her voice.

“Come, Mimi,” said Marcel, “never despair, you will get well, you only want care and rest.”

“Ah! no,” said Mimi, “it is all over, I feel it. I have no longer any strength, and when I came here last night it took me over an hour to get up the stairs. If I had found a woman here I should have gone down again by way of