I think. In the first place, it is not a piano at all, it is a flute."
"But you are screwed too, my dear fellow," observed the poet to the philosopher, who had sat down on the landing, "it is a violin."
"A vio—, pooh! I say, Schaunard," hiccupped Colline, pulling his friend by the legs, "here is a joke, this gentleman makes out that it is a vio—"
"Hang it all," exclaimed Schaunard in the height of terror, "it is magic."
"Phantasma-goria," howled Colline, letting fall one of the bottles he held by his hand.
"Fancy," yelled Rodolphe in turn.
In the midst of this uproar the room door suddenly opened, and an individual holding a triple-branched candlestick in which pink candles were burning, appeared on the threshold.
"What do you want, gentlemen?" asked he, bowing courteously to the three friends.
"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—PHEMIE."
"But it is all right, it is all right, I am indeed at home," he exclaimed, "here is the visiting card Phemie 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 come into my room for a moment," he replied, "no doubt your friend, as soon as he has looked around, 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 around 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, "this is something like, the animal has recognized his master, si la sol, fa mi re. Ah! wretched re, you are always the same. I told you it was my instrument."
"He insists on it," said Colline to Rodolphe.
"He insists on it," repeated Rodolphe to Marcel.
"And that," added Schaunard, pointing to the star-adorned petticoat that was lying on a chair, "it is not an adornment of mine, perhaps? Ah!"
And he looked Marcel straight in the face.
"And this," continued he, unfastening from the wall the notice to quit already spoken of.
And he began to read, "Therefore Monsieur Schaunard is hereby required to give up possession of the said premises, and to leave them in tenantable repair, before noon on the eighth day of April. As witness the present formal notice to quit, the cost of which is five francs." "Ha! ha! so I am not the Monsieur Schaunard to whom formal notice to quit is given at a cost of five francs? And these, again," he continued, recognizing his slippers on Marcel's feet, "are not those my papouches, the gift of a beloved hand? It is your turn, sir," said he to Marcel, "to explain your presence amongst my household goods."
"Gentlemen," replied Marcel, addressing himself more especially to Colline and Rodolphe, "this gentleman," and he pointed to Schaunard, "is at home, I admit."
"Ah!" exclaimed Schaunard, "that's lucky."
"But," continued Marcel, "I am at home too."
"But, sir," broke in Rodolphe, "if our friend recognizes—"
"Yes," said Colline, "if our friend—"
"And if on your side you recall that—," added Rodolphe, "how is it that—"
"Yes," replied his echo Colline, "how is it that—"
"Have the kindness to sit down, gentlemen," replied Marcel, "and I will explain the mystery to you."
"If we were to liquify the explanation?" risked Colline.
"Over a mouthful of something," added Rodolphe.
The four young fellows sat down to table and attacked a piece of cold veal which the wine-shop keeper had let them have.
Marcel then explained what had taken place in the morning between himself and the landlord when he had come to move in.
"Then," observed Rodolphe, "this gentleman is quite right, and we are in his place?"
"You are at home," said Marcel politely.
But it was a tremendous task to make Schaunard understand what had taken place. A comical incident served to further complicate the situation. Schaunard, when looking for something in a sideboard, found the change of the five hundred franc note that Marcel had handed to Monsieur Bernard that morning.
"Ah! I was quite sure," he exclaimed, "that Fortune would not desert me. I remember now that I went out this morning to run after her. On account of its being quarter-day she must have looked in during my absence. We crossed one another on the way, that it is. How right I was to leave the key in my drawer!"
"Delightful madness!" murmured Rodolphe, looking at Schaunard, who was building up the money in equal piles.
"A dream, a falsehood, such is life," added the philosopher.
Marcel laughed.
An hour later they had all four fallen asleep.
The next day they woke up at noon, and at first seemed very much surprised to find themselves together. Schaunard, Colline, and Rodolphe did not appear to recognize one another, and addressed one another as "sir." Marcel had to remind them that they had come together the evening before.
At that moment old Durand entered the room.
"Sir," said he to Marcel, "it is the month of April, eighteen hundred and forty, there is mud in the streets, and His Majesty Louis-Philippe is still King of France and Navarre. What!" exclaimed the porter on seeing his former tenant, "Monsieur Schaunard, how did you come here?"
"By the telegraph," replied Schaunard.
"Ah!" replied the porter, "you are still a joker—"
"Durand," said Marcel, "I do not like subordinates mingling in conversation with me, go to the nearest restaurant and have a breakfast for four sent up. Here is the bill of fare," he added, handing him a slip of paper on which he had written it. "Go."
"Gentlemen," continued Marcel, addressing the three young fellows, "you invited me to supper last night, allow me to offer you a breakfast this morning, not in my room, but in ours," he added, holding out his hand to Schaunard.
"Oh! no," said Schaunard sentimentally, "let us never leave one another."
"That's right, we are very comfortable here," added Colline.
"To leave you for a moment," continued Rodolphe. "Tomorrow the 'Scarf of Iris,' a fashion paper of which I am editor, appears, and I must go and correct my proofs; I will be back in an hour."
"The deuce!" said Colline, "that reminds me that I have a lesson to give to an Indian prince who has come to Paris to learn Arabic."
"Go tomorrow," said Marcel.
"Oh, no!" said the philosopher, "the prince is to pay me today. And then I must acknowledge to you that this