Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/94

“Good heavens, what am I about? I have made a mistake, this is not my room,” said Schaunard.

“Sir,” added Colline and Rodolphe, simultaneously addressing the person who had opened the door, “be good enough to excuse our friend, he is as drunk as three fiddlers.”

Suddenly a gleam of lucidity flashed through Schaunard’s intoxication; he read on his door these words written in chalk:

“I have called three times for my New Year’s gift.—Phémie.”

“But it is all right, it is all right, I am indeed at home,” he exclaimed; “here is the visiting card Phémie left me on New Year’s day; it is really my door.”

“Good heavens, sir,” said Rodolphe, “I am truly bewildered.”

“Believe me, sir,” added Colline, “that for my part I am an active partner in my friend’s confusion.”

The young fellow who had opened the door could not help laughing.

“If you will come into my room for a moment,” he replied, “no doubt your friend, as soon as he has looked round, will see his mistake.”

“Willingly.”

And the poet and philosopher each taking Schaunard by an arm, led him into the room, or rather the palace of Marcel, whom no doubt our readers have recognized.

Schaunard cast his eyes vaguely about him, murmuring, “It is astonishing how my dwelling is embellished!”

“Well, are you satisfied now?” asked Colline.

But Schaunard having noticed the piano had gone to it, and was playing scales.

“Here, you fellows, listen to this,” said he, striking the notes; “that is something like, the animal has recognized