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this and that? Well, it is the same thing with the newspapers,” he wound up with.

“Evidently,” said a neighbor who had understood.

And Monsieur Mouton having received the congratulations of some of the other frequenters of the café who shared his opinion, resumed his game at dominoes.

“I have taught him his place,” said he, indicating Rodolphe, who had returned to the same table at which Schaunard and Colline were seated.

“What a blockhead!” said Rodolphe to the two young fellows.

“He has a fine head, with his eyelids like the hood of a cabriolet, and his eyes like glass marbles,” said Schaunard, pulling out a wonderfully colored pipe.

“By Jupiter, sir,” said Rodolphe, “that is a very pretty pipe of yours.”

“Oh! I have a much finer one I wear in society,” replied Schaunard, carelessly. “Pass me some tobacco, Colline.”

“Hello! ” said the philosopher, “I have none left.”

“Allow me to offer you some,” observed Rodolphe. pulling a packet of tobacco out of his pocket and placing it on the table.

To this civility Colline thought it his duty to respond by an offer of glasses round.

Rodolphe accepted. The conversation turned on literature. Rodolphe, questioned as to the profession already revealed by his garb, confessed his relation with the Muses, and stood a second round of drinks. As the waiter was going off with the bottle Schaunard requested him to be good enough to forget it. He had heard the silvery tinkle of a couple of five-franc pieces in one of Colline’s pockets. Rodolphe had soon reached the same level