Gérard's adventure is in the nature of digression. So, indeed, was his whole life; but the others were not more discursive than befitted Bohemians. They slept in their beds and took their meals regularly. Luncheon, after the morning's work, was a frugal meal except for Gautier, who had developed from a weedy youth into a giant with a Gargantuan appetite. They did not entirely fail to earn a penny, but when literary labour was so poorly paid Gautier, who was doing art criticism in a small paper for nothing, was glad enough to see his mother arrive in the morning with two raw cutlets and a bottle of bouillon for his _déjeuner_. Nevertheless, when the afternoon was over and the visitors gone--Roger de Beauvoir to dress for an evening at the Opéra, Borel to rage at society in some poor garret--Rogier, Gautier, and Houssaye, now and then capturing Gérard, set out to roam in the busy city whose festive lamps were glittering on the boulevards and twinkling along the Seine. They dined--they were not too poor for that--in the Palais Royal more often than not, and wandered for the rest of the night where their fancy took them. Now the theatre would entice them with some romantic play by Hugo or Dumas, after which a supper with much punch would be indispensable; now they would invade the _Chaumière_ or some other place of dancing. At that time everybody danced deliriously,[25] the quadrille being in great vogue since it lent itself readily to choreographic invention on the part of the individual. Ourliac and Houssaye, for instance, attracted great attention by dancing a quadrille which represented Napoleon at all the critical periods of his life--the siege of Toulon, the Pyramids, Waterloo, and St. Helena. Another evening, Gautier having gone to visit his parents and Gérard absent, Houssaye might return quietly to the white and gold _salon_ with Rogier, who would talk with him or sing him songs while the cats purred on their knees; or, yet again, they might carouse in the Flemish _cabaret_ hard by, served by the young _tavernière_ _Qui tout en souriant nous versait de la bière._ _Quelle gorge orgueilleuse et quel œil attrayant!_ _Que Préault a sculpté de mots en la voyant._ _Cette fille aux yeux bleus follement réjouie,_ _Les blonds cheveux épars, la bouche épanouie,_ _Jetant à tout venant son cœur et sa vertu,_ _Et faisant de l'amour un joyeux impromptu,_ _Fut de notre jeunesse une image fidèle;_ _Ami, longtemps encor nous reparlerons d'elle._ So sang of her Houssaye, whose souvenirs of Bohemia at the magic age of _vingt ans_ are deeply tinged with amorous memories. In fact, _la Bohème galante_, as its name implies, was not a monastery, and its life was not shared, but illuminated by a number of divinities whose aureoles had been over more than one windmill. The chief of these was "la Cydalise," _Respirant un lilas qui jouait dans sa main_ _Et pressentant déjà le triste lendemain._