RUD. and MIMI. When the hawthorn-bough's in blossom, When we have the glorious sun, Murmur the silver fountains, The breezes of the evening Waft fragrant balsams To the world and its sorrow. Shall we await another spring? MIMI. (_moving away with _RUDOLPH) Always yours forever! RUD. _and_ MIMI. Our time for parting's when the roses blow! MIMI. Ah! that our winter might last forever! RUD. _and_ MIMI. Our time for parting's when the roses blow! ACT IV "At that period, indeed, for some time past, the friends had led lonely lives. "Musetta had once more become a sort of semi-official personage; for three or four months Marcel had never met her. "And Mimi, too, no word of her had Rudolph ever heard except when he talked about her to himself when he was alone. "One day, as Marcel furtively kissed a bunch of ribbons that Musetta had left behind, he saw Rudolph hiding away a bonnet, that same pink bonnet which Mimi had forgotten. "'Good!' muttered Marcel, 'he's as craven-hearted as I am.'" * * * * * "A gay life, yet a terrible one." ACT IV IN THE ATTIC (_As in Act I_) (MARCEL,_as before, stands in front of his easel, while _RUDOLPH_ sits at his writing table; each trying to make the other believe that he is working indefatigably, whereas they are really only gossiping.)_ MAR. (_resuming his talk_) In a coupé? RUD. Yes, in carriage and pair did she merrily hail me. "Well, Musetta," I questioned: "How's your heart?" "It beats not--or I don't feel it--Thanks to this velvet I'm wearing!" MAR. (_endeavoring to laugh_) I'm glad, very glad! RUD. (_aside_) You humbug, you! You're fretting and fuming! MAR. It beats not! Bravo! (_commences to paint with great vigor_) Then I saw, too-- RUD. Musetta? MAR. Mimi. RUD. You saw her? How strange! (stops painting) MAR. Rode in her carriage in grand apparel. Just like a duchess. RUD. Delightful! I'm glad to hear it. MAR. (_aside_) You liar! you're pining with love. RUD. and MAR. Now to work! (_they go on working_) RUD. (_throwing down his pen_) This pen's too awful! (_remains seated, apparently lost in thought_) MAR. (_flinging away his brush_) This infamous paint-brush! (_Stares at his canvas, and then without RUDOLPH observing it, he takes from his pocket a bunch of ribbons and kisses it._) RUD. Ah! Mimi! false, fickle-hearted! Ah! beauteous days departed! Those hands so dainty! Oh! fragrant, shining tresses! Ah! snow-white bosom! Ah! Mimi! those brief, glad, golden days! MAR. (_putting away his ribbons and staring anew at his canvas_) How is it that my brush With speed mechanical keeps moving, And plasters on the colors Quite against my will? And though I would be painting landscapes, Meadows, woodlands fair in Spring-tide, My brush refuses to perform its office; But paints dark eyes, and two red, smiling lips; The features of Musetta haunt me still!