Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/405
“How do I know?”
“Musette, who burst upon me last evening like a bombshell, got up as a débardeur.”
“Musette! You have once more found Musette!” said Rodolphe in a tone of regret.
“Do not be alarmed; hostilities were not resumed. Musette came to pass with me her last night of Bohemianism.”
“What?”
“She is going to be married.”
“Bah!” said Rodolphe. “Who is the victim?”
“A postmaster who was her last lover’s guardian; a queer sort of fellow, it would seem. Musette said to him, ‘My dear sir, before definitely giving you my hand and going to the registrar’s I want a week of freedom. I have my affairs to settle, and I want to drink my last glass of Champagne, dance my last quadrille, and embrace for the last time my lover, Marcel, who is now a gentleman, like everybody else, it seems.’ And for a week the dear creature has been looking for me. Hence it was that she burst upon me last evening, just at the moment I was thinking of her. Ah! my friend, altogether we had a sad night of it. It was not at all the same thing it used to be, not at all. We were like some wretched copy of a masterpiece? I have even written on the subject of this last separation a little ballad which I will whine out to you if you will allow me,” and Marcel began to chant the following verses:—
He brought Spring’s promise to the air;
‘Remember her,’ he seemed to say,
‘Who loved you when she’d time to spare;’
And all the day I sate before
The almanac of yonder year,
When I did nothing but adore,
And you were pleased to hold me dear.