"Stop here for a moment," said the dresser, when they reached the entrance to the hospital, "I will go and ask the house surgeon for permission for you to enter." Rodolphe waited in the hall for a quarter of an hour. When the dresser returned he took him by the hand and said these words: "My friend, suppose that the letter I wrote to you a week ago was true?" "What!" exclaimed Rodolphe, leaning against a pillar, "Mimi--" "This morning at four o'clock." "Take me to the amphitheatre," said Rodolphe, "that I may see her." "She is no longer there," said the dresser. And pointing out to the poet a large van which was in the courtyard drawn up before a building above which was inscribed, "Amphiteatre," he added, "she is there." It was indeed the vehicle in which the corpses that are unclaimed are taken to their pauper's grave. "Goodbye," said Rodolphe to the dresser. "Would you like me to come with you a bit?" suggested the latter. "No," said Rodolphe, turning away, "I need to be alone." CHAPTER XXIII YOUTH IS FLEETING A year after Mimi's death Rodolphe and Marcel, who had not quitted one another, celebrated by a festival their entrance into the official world. Marcel, who had at length secured admission to the annual exhibition of pictures, had had two paintings hung, one of which had been bought by a rich Englishman, formerly Musette's protector. With the product of this sale, and also of a Government order, Marcel had partly paid off his past debts. He had furnished decent rooms, and had a real studio. Almost at the same time Schaunard and Rodolphe came before the public who bestow fame and fortune--the one with an album of airs that were sung at all the concerts, and which gave him the commencement of a reputation; the other with a book that occupied the critics for a month. As to Barbemuche he had long since given up Bohemianism. Gustave Colline had inherited money and made a good marriage. He gave evening parties with music and light refreshments. One evening Rodolphe, seated in his own armchair with his feet on his own rug, saw Marcel come in quite flurried. "You do not know what has just happened to me," said he. "No," replied the poet. "I know that I have been to your place, that you were at home, and that you would not answer the door." "Yes, I heard you. But guess who was with me." "How do I know?" "Musette, who burst upon me last evening like a bombshell, got up as a _debardeur_." "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?"