"Where are you going?" asked Marcel. "To buy some tobacco," they replied. "At Havana," added Schaunard, with a sign of intelligence to Marcel, who thanked him with a look. "Why did you not come sooner?" he asked Musette when they were alone together. "It is true, I am rather behindhand." "Five days to cross the Pont Neuf. You must have gone round by the Pyrenees?" Musette bowed her head and was silent. "Ah, naughty girl," said the artist, sadly tapping his hand lightly on his mistress' breast, "what have you got inside here?" "You know very well," she retorted quickly. "But what have you been doing since I wrote to you?" "Do not question me," said Musette, kissing him several times. "Do not ask me anything, but let me warm myself beside you. You see I put on my best dress to come. Poor Maurice, he could not understand it when I set off to come here, but it was stronger than myself, so I started. The fire is nice," she added, holding out her little hand to the flames, "I will stay with you till tomorrow if you like." "It will be very cold here," said Marcel, "and we have nothing for dinner. You have come too late," he repeated. "Ah, bah!" said Musette. "It will be all the more like old times." * * * * * Rodolphe, Colline, and Schaunard, took twenty-four hours to get their tobacco. When they returned to the house Marcel was alone. After an absence of six days Vicomte Maurice saw Musette return. He did not in any way reproach her, and only asked her why she seemed sad. "I quarreled with Marcel," said she. "We parted badly." "And yet, who knows," said Maurice. "But you will again return to him." "What would you?" asked Musette. "I need to breathe the air of that life from time to time. My life is like a song, each of my loves is a verse, but Marcel is the refrain." CHAPTER XX Mimi In Fine Feather