Читать книгу Bohemia; or, La Bohème - Henry Murger - Страница 5
ОглавлениеACT I
A house in the country in the neighborhood of Paris. A garden. In the rear a balustrade giving on the countryside. To the left a pavilion with an open window facing the public. To the right a garden bench. Chairs.
Baptiste (alone, at the back near the wall looking at the countryside)
What’s that cloud of dust? Could it be the carriage of Madame Césarine de Rouvre? That would be surprising to me, because it’s noon and Monsieur Durandin doesn’t expect the lady until two o’clock. Why, it’s not a carriage. (looking attentively) Some young men with large easels and young girls with big hats. I know what it is—it’s a caravan. Happy youth—laugh, laugh—you haven’t read Monsieur Voltaire. But, think of it—what imprudence. (taking a book which he had forgotten on the bench) If Monsieur Durandin, the numbers man, as Monsieur Rodolphe says, had found this in octavo, my removal would be imminent. See, Monsieur Durandin has informed me that they will take coffee in this pavilion which hasn’t been opened for three months. Let’s put things in order. (goes into the pavilion and opens the blinds) Or rather no, everything’s fine as it is—as Monsieur Voltaire said. Thanks to the dust, the Louis XV furniture has a more venerable appearance. I won’t bring a profane duster to it. As for these populations of arachnids, they’ll give this place a more antique character, completely artistic. So, I won’t remove these spiders. My only regret is there aren’t more of them. (shutting the door) Everything is ready and now Madame Rouvre can arrive.
Durandin (enters from the back, notebook in hand, reading)
Paris to Rouen, from 575 to 555 remains at 560—15 francs lower—bravo—it’s time to buy. (to Baptiste without turning) Where is my nephew?
Baptiste
In his room, monsieur.
Durandin (always calculating)
200 at 5.6, 112,000. 200 at 500—probable fall—116,000, 4,000 francs profits net—(rubbing his hands) Where is my nephew?
Baptiste
In his room, monsieur.
Durandin (waking up from his reverie)
Huh? What? It’s not true, I’m coming from there. By the way, his room is in a pretty state. You aren’t taking care of it?
Baptiste
Pardon me, monsieur. On the contrary. I take meticulous care of it. I open the window in the morning and I shut it in the evening.
Durandin
And that’s all?
Baptiste
And that’s all, monsieur. I follow to the letter the instructions given me by your nephew, Monsieur Rodolphe, who told me when he came to live here: “Baptiste, you please me infinitely, but if you wish to preserve my esteem, you will never touch anything in my room. If you had the imprudence to put my things in their place, it would be impossible for me ever to find them again.”
Durandin
Then, that’s why I observed a pair of boots on the chimney and the clock in the cupboard.
Baptiste
I can’t give an account of the motive which assigned that place to the pair of boots, but as for the clock, it’s different and can be explained. (Durandin is back at his notebook) You’re not listening to me, monsieur.
Durandin
Oh, yes, imbecile.
Baptiste
I continue: The first time Monsieur Rodolphe saw the clock in question he wanted to throw it out the window.
Durandin (stupefied)
Out the—A clock worth four hundred francs, in gilded bronze with a bronze representing Malek-Adel.
Baptiste
Yes, monsieur, I know quite well—Malek-Adel—by Madame Cottin. But the clock had a defect.
Durandin
What was that?
Baptiste
It marked the hour.
Durandin
Well?
Baptiste
My God! I know that it was only doing its duty—but Monsieur Rodolphe judged otherwise. He said he didn’t want this domestic tyrant that counted his existence minute by minute, whose needle stretched right to his bed and came to sting in the morning with those instruments of torture in the vicinity of which nonchalance and reverie are impossible.
Durandin
What are all these wandering? Oh, this cannot last much longer; my nephew will make me as crazy as he is. Happily, Madame Rouvre is coming today, she’s a widow, rich—womanly.
Baptiste
That’s her most beautiful honor.
Durandin
I’m not talking to you. She’s a woman and what a woman wants— Rodolphe must come down to earth to sign the contract. He must be in the garden musing over his nonsense. Go find him for me.
Baptiste
Right away, monsieur.
(Baptiste goes out back left. As he does, he opens his Voltaire and continues to read.)
Durandin (alone)
My nephew is indeed the son of my brother. It’s the same disordered spirit. Vocation! Art! Genius! And the father died leaving debts the son is ready to double. The arts! The arts! Doesn’t he have a beautiful history and pretty job? But I am here—and soon I will have our charming auxiliary flanked by 40,000 francs income, and I really hope—but if, to the contrary, Monsieur Poet, the dreamer resists, if he refuses his luck—so much the worse for him! He can go to the devil!
Rodolphe (entering, very eccentric)
Is that why you made me come, uncle?
Durandin
Ah, there you are, hothead.
Rodolphe (gaily)
Hello, Uncle Million. You’re in a bad mood. I am going to recite a sonnet for you, jolly fellow, that’s going to cheer you up and cool you down.
Durandin
Would you talk reasonably for a minute?
Rodolphe
Willingly? Willingly, my uncle, but not more, you quite understand. The minute is gone. Let’s talk of something else.
Durandin
You’re settled on it, right? You don’t wish to understand anything?
Rodolphe
My uncle, I understand nothing about business. You do it, as much as you like, I am not preventing you.
Durandin
Truly? And as for you, you’ll write odes to the moon, right? And you will curse the egoistic century that refuses to nourish you for doing nothing.
Rodolphe
Wrong, my uncle, grave mistake! I am not seated at the banquet of life with the intention of cursing fellow guests over dessert. By dessert, I’m rolling under the table, and my muse, a good fat wench with an insolent eye and a turned up nose picks me up, leads me stumbling to my lodging, and we spend the night laughing at those who’ve paid us to dine. It’s ingratitude if you like, but it’s amusing.
Durandin
And is this what concerns you?
Rodolphe
What concerns me? Absolutely nothing for the moment. But that will concern me later. You’ve studied men and you speculate on the telegraphs. You live by your enterprise. As for me, I want to live by my imagination. I will do whatever they wish—sad, gay, pleasant, grave. I will feel like fasting and jesting loudly after dinner—(striking his head) My capital is here. A superb enterprise under the direction of Piochage and Company. Social capital—courage, wit, and gaiety.
Durandin
But, truly, I am really glad to hear that from you. Madame de Rouvre is coming today—in an hour.
Rodolphe
You did quite well to warn me, my uncle. I’m going out right away.
Durandin
Not another step or I’ll disinherit you.
Rodolphe
Damn! I ask to sit down.
Durandin (sitting on the bench with his nephew)
Listen, my boy, in the past you paid court to Madame de Rouvre, you pressed her assiduously for an entire winter.
Rodolphe
I cannot deny it, uncle.
Durandin
In the Spring, we spent a month at her country estate—and, between us, those walks in the solitary alleys of her park—
Rodolphe
Hush! Be as discreet as I am, uncle.
Durandin
I’m not reproaching you. On the contrary, you did well, it was a masterful stroke—for she’s very rich and she loves you.
Rodolphe
She loves me?
Durandin
I’m sure of it.
Rodolphe
She’s a woman of wit, she will understand that I don’t want to marry her.
Durandin
You don’t want to marry her?
Rodolphe
I never promised her that.
Durandin
Promised—this lad is a bit conceited.
Rodolphe
Why no, uncle, I wish to remain a bachelor, that’s all.
Durandin
But, wretch, Madame de Rouvre is pretty.
Rodolphe
I know it, uncle.
Durandin
Well?
Rodolphe
Well! So much the worse for the others.
Durandin
By marrying her, you would have from your wife’s side alone, forty thousand francs of income. You would have a calm, quiet position. You would have children.
Rodolphe
Yes, that’s right, many children and rabbits. Thanks, that doesn’t suit me. I need air, freedom, a picturesque life, tempestuous, if you like, free not to dine every day—that’s all the same with me—in the days of feasting, I will eat for a month.
Durandin
You will never do anything in your life. You will follow in the tracks of your father.
Rodolphe
Ah, uncle, let’s not speak of that, let’s not rake up the ashes.
Durandin
That’s very well, but nonetheless, it is true that my brother also didn’t want to do anything except as he pleased, and when he died, he owed everybody.
Rodolphe (serious)
Except you, uncle.
Durandin
I’ll have to be bled from four veins to support a mad man.
Rodolphe
No, uncle, you’ve done well. After all, my father left me an honorable name—a name that is respected—and some paintings that are admired. But once again, let’s not speak of that.
Durandin
So be it! I have to leave to greet Madame de Rouvre. I hope, on my return, you’ll be in a better frame of mind.
Rodolphe
Can’t swear to it, uncle. There’s nothing immutable under the sun.
Durandin
Think about it, and if you become reasonable you won’t regret it.
Durandin and Rodolphe Together (singing)
True happiness
There’s no happiness
Is for the heart.
In marriage in my heart.
No slavery No slavery
For us For between you and me
No slavery No slavery
Is so sweet. Is sweet.
(Durandin goes out by the right.)
Rodolphe (alone)
Uncles are astonishing. They would make you marry every woman you’ve sworn eternal love to by moonlight. Why, they’d have a legalized harem. For me to marry Madame Césarine de Rouvre, the most flirtatious and imperious woman on earth, who orders you to love her so to speak—I’m not so crazy! From tomorrow I shall take my flight. I am fleeing this insipid and monotonous villa that no one ever visits by chance or unexpectedly.
Chorus (outside)
Our future must light up
In the sunshine of our youth.
Let’s love and sing some more.
Youth comes only once.
Rodolphe
What’s that? Could it be the unexpected I asked for? (goes to the back) Some artists and grisettes, not doubt. They are having lunch on the grass. Bon appétit! Now there’s happiness as I understand it. Walks without gloves and dinners without forks. Heavens, they’re bowing to me. (he bows and comes back) I almost want to hurl myself into the midst of their group and invite myself. Indeed, why not?
Marcel (appearing above the balustrade)
Sir—Sir!
Rodolphe
Who’s calling me?
Marcel
I ask your pardon, monsieur. You couldn’t, by chance, lend us some place settings and silverware?
Rodolphe
Sir, if you want to wait, I’ll ring. I will go find a bell. You’re an artist, monsieur?
Marcel
Yes, monsieur.
Rodolphe
Painter.
Marcel
It’s you who said it.
Rodolphe
Of what school?
Marcel
Of my own.
Rodolphe
I congratulate you on it.
Marcel
And me, too, monsieur.
Rodolphe
And your name is?
Marcel
Marcel, to serve you.
Rodolphe
And as for my name—Rodolphe, to be agreeable to you.
Marcel
This nest belongs to you?
Rodolphe
Not the least bit. I am the nest’s nephew. Take the trouble to fall this way.
Marcel
This doesn’t disturb you?
Rodolphe
Not at all.
Marcel (jumping)
Allow me to offer you my hand—it’s all I have on me.
Rodolphe
Willingly—but on condition that you offer it also to those pretty persons who sing so well.
Marcel
I can refuse nothing to you, monsieur. (calling) Hey, Musette, you are invited to enter by scaling—
(Orchestra music.)
Musette (appearing on the balustrade)
Here I am.
(Musette pulls up her dress a little and shows a bit of her leg as she climbs over. Rodolphe runs to help her.)
Rodolphe
By God, there’s a pretty leg. I must offer my arm.
Musette
The gentleman sells madrigals.
Rodolphe
Yes, madame.
Musette
And you get paid for it?
Rodolphe (kissing her hand)
In cash!
Marcel (taking Musette’s hand)
Allow me to present her to you more formally. Miss Musette—twenty-two years old.
Musette
In six months.
Marcel
A charming girl who’s only defect is to lose the key to her heart too often. All the same, I have nothing to complain of—that’s how I found shelter one rainy day.
Musette (low to Marcel, pointing to Rodolphe)
He’s sweet!
Marcel (to Rodolphe)
She thinks you’re sweet. That’s the beginning—impossible to tell where it will end.
(Rodolphe offers a chair to Musette. Schaunard appears on the support of the balustrade.)
Schaunard
Hey! Marcel! I can’t find Musette any more. I think she fell into her cup.
Marcel
Don’t worry, faithful friend. Climb in. (Schaunard climbs in) Monsieur Schaunard, orphan by vocation, painter by taste, musician to do something and poet with nothing to do. Spending half his life in search of money to pay his creditors and the other half in fleeing his creditors when he has found money.
Schaunard (bowing)
The scheme is faithful like a poodle. But you are seeing only half of myself. Allow me to present the other half. Phemie!
(Phemie appears and Schaunard helps her down.)
Marcel
Miss Phemie—a devoted wife—when she’s dined.
Rodolphe (offering a chair to Phemie)
Miss—
Phemie
Very grateful, monsieur, I am not yet tired.
(Phemie sits near Musette.)
Schaunard (with severity)
Phemie! Please excuse her, monsieur. She comes from—I met her in a forest.
Rodolphe
Virgin forest?
(Schaunard sneezes. Colline appears.)
Marcel (indicating Colline to Rodolphe)
Don’t be worried, monsieur, that’s all of us. Monsieur Gustave Colline, philosopher, the treasurer of the society, a sinecure.
(They all come forward.)
Rodolphe
Ladies and gentlemen.
All
Listen.
Rodolphe
Please believe in my sympathy.
Marcel
And—
Rodolphe
The speech is over.
Phemie (rising)
Bravo!
Musette
It’s in very good taste—it’s not long.
Schaunard
Pardon, monsieur. I have to ask some information of you.
Rodolphe
Speak, monsieur.
Schaunard
Could you tell me where they put the tobacco in this house?
Rodolphe
Here, monsieur. (pointing to his pocket and offering tobacco to Schaunard who fills his pipe) You’ve got a nice looking pipe, Monsieur Schaunard.
Schaunard (negligently)
I don’t have a prettier one to suit me in the world.
Musette (to Rodolphe)
Sir, would it be indiscreet to ask your permission to pick some flowers from the garden?
Phemie
And some apricots?
Rodolphe
What do you think?
(The ladies come forward.)
Colline
Sir, if you will allow me, I will accompany these ladies to do a little botany.
(The ladies pick flowers and put them in Colline’s arms.)
Musette (laughing)
This may embarrass you!
Colline
Oh, no, I assure you. (going to a bench and depositing everything at the foot of a tree) Look a bit. (pulls several books from his pocket) Botany—that’s what I need.
Musette
We are here.
Phemie
Let’s go to it, gaily.
Musette and Phemie (singing together)
Let’s glean,
Let’s pick
The daisies.
Among the green turf.
To the sweet songs of warblers.
Let’s mingle, mingle,
Our gay tunes.
(The women leave by the left, Colline leaves by the right. Rodolphe takes up, one by one, the books Colline deposited on the bench.)
Rodolphe
Chemistry, engineering, physics. Ah, indeed, why, your friend is a walking library.
Marcel
Ah, you see, it’s that Colline is the studious and dreamy child of Bohemia.
Rodolphe
Bohemia?
Marcel
Bohemia, bordered on the north by hope, work and gayety—on the south by necessity and courage—on the west and east by slander and the Hotel Dieu.
Rodolphe
I thank you very much, but I don’t understand.
Marcel
You desire a second lesson in geography relative to Bohemia? It’s very easy, monsieur, for you see before you two natives of the country.
Schaunard
Bohemia—us.
Rodolphe
You?
Marcel
That is to say, all those, who, driven by an obstinate vocation, go into art with no other means of existence than art itself; wit always kept on watch by their ambition which beats the charge before them and drives them to an assault on the future. Their everyday existence is a work of genius, a quotidian problem. But if a small fortune falls into their hands, they are to be seen cavalcading in the most serious fantasies, loving the youngest and the most beautiful, drinking the best and oldest wines—never finding enough windows to throw their money out of.
Schaunard
Then, when their last franc is dead and buried—they begin diving over again at the table d’hôtel, where their place is always set—and to hunt down from noon to midnight that ferocious arrival—a one hundred sous coin—intelligent folk who would have found truffles on the raft of the Medusa.
Marcel
They don’t know how to take the steps on the boulevard without meeting a friend.
Schaunard
Or thirty steps—no matter where—without meeting a creditor.
Marcel
And when January comes, pockets full of colds and hands full of chilblains, they warm themselves philosophically by burning their furniture.
Schaunard
That’s what moderns call sitting by the chimney.
Rodolphe
Truly, gentlemen, your carefree courage, your joyful philosophy enchants me. I would never like to leave you.
Schaunard
We will stay here just as long as you like, monsieur.
Ladies (outside)
Here we are!
(Musette and Phemie come in, loaded down with flowers. Phemie has an apple.)
Chorus
Let’s glean,
Let’s pick
The daisies.
Among the green turf.
To the sweet songs of warblers.
Let’s mingle, mingle,
Our gay tunes.
Musette
There’s our harvest.
Phemie (eating an apple)
The country is excellent.
Marcel (to Rodolphe)
As to the rest, monsieur, we have sweet compensations in our life of trials. These young girls are our living joys. We love them madly and perhaps they will love us forever.
(Phemie passes by Schaunard who is seated.)
Rodolphe
If forever doesn’t last too long.
Marcel
And if the ribbons don’t cost too much. They will remain with us so long as they have heart—and they’ll leave us when they have wit.
Musette
Meaning I am stupid?
Marcel
Alas, no, my sweet.
Musette
As for me, who refused a bank clerk with fine mahogany furniture—
Marcel
Yes, but if it had been the banker himself, and he had driven audacity to the point of touching the rosewood—
Musette
True. I would have refused him. I’ve still got time—besides, you, too, will be rich.
Marcel
Certainly—still, some measure of patience. Anyway, I have an idea. Starting next Monday we will practice economies and I will—
Musette
Yes, my little Marcel. I really love you, go on, for you I would throw myself from the top of the towers of Notre Dame.
Schaunard
Musette, that impudent remark will cost you four sous. It’s the penalty. (to Phemie) And you! Would you like to die for me?
Phemie
Yes, but not of starvation.
Schaunard (to Rodolphe)
She is astounding, monsieur. She finds words like those all by herself—without hesitation. She is astounding. I am infatuated with her.
(Phemie pulls a fruit from her pocket and a paper falls out. Schaunard rises and picks it up.)
Phemie (aside)
These fruits! It’s extraordinary how they make you hungry.
(Phemie goes back upstage.)
Schaunard (aside)
What do I see! A declaration with an emblem representing a heart pierced by a bayonet—and signed “A soldier of the Twenty-Ninth.” It was two weeks ago I surprised the presence of another paper signed “A cavalryman of the Twenty-Fourth.” Her heart is a barracks. (calling) Phemie!
Phemie (coming to him)
Huh?
Schaunard
You know too many people in uniform. (showing the letter) What is this love prospectus signed by a member of the French Cavalry?
Phemie (troubled)
That—it’s from a little red man who handed it to me on the Pont Neuf.
Schaunard
Very well. (pointing to his cane) Tonight you’ll have an explanation with the bamboo.
(Colline and Baptiste enter, arm in arm. Colline has a basket. They enter from the back right.)
Colline
You are a skeptic, Monsieur Baptiste.
Baptiste
Sir, I’ve read Voltaire.
Colline
As for me, I’m a pantheist. Everything is in everything. Have you read Spinoza?
Baptiste
Me!
Colline
Reread him! Also look at Descartes. (Musette and Phemie come to take the basket) (to Rodolphe) Monsieur, you have a very wise servant. I took him for an article in the Review of Two Worlds. (goes near Marcel)
Marcel
Where are you coming from?
Colline
By Jove! You are a rare featherbrain. You left our provisions in the midst of the country, where they would have become the prey of scavengers. I had to find them with the aid of Monsieur Baptiste.
Musette (looking in the basket)
But the bottles are empty.
Colline
In the midst of a serious discussion with this gentleman on the immortality of the soul, we became very exalted. We drank the bottles, but there are the corks.
Musette
Well, with what will we eat the duck which is in the pie?
(Phemie looks in the basket.)
Phemie
The duck flew off. All that’s left is the crust.
(Phemie and Musette throw it all over the balustrade with Marcel’s help.)
Baptiste
In the midst of a grave discussion with this gentleman on the objective and the subjective—(to Musette) The mine and the not—mine, if you prefer—as we were very exalted—we ate the duck.
Musette (to Rodolphe)
Your servant is sweet. Do you pay him much?
Rodolphe
Don’t trouble yourself. We are going to straighten all this out. Baptiste, you understand—(Baptist leaves by the rear) Now, allow me to offer you lunch.
Schaunard
Indeed, it’s the hour honest folks spend in the dining room. Let’s go.
Rodolphe
The dining room is here—in a moment we will be served and we will drink to Bohemia, my future country!
All
What!
Rodolphe
Listen to me. Here I am running the greatest dangers.
Marcel
You?
Rodolphe
They want to marry me.
Marcel
That’s horrible.
Rodolphe
It’s my Uncle Million who had that idea.
Musette
Your Uncle Million?
Phemie
What a pretty name!
Schaunard
Indeed, I’d like to have your uncle’s money.
Rodolphe
Me marry? Can you grasp that? Imprison my freedom in a contract? Throw my heart in the household potboiler, clip the wings of my youth—all that simply to provide for my uncle the pleasure of having little grand-nephews!
Schaunard
By Jove, if he wants ‘em—let him make ‘em himself.
Rodolphe
I’ve been meditating flight for a long while—but all alone, I wouldn’t know where to go. Now, it’s quite decided—I intend to lead, like you, the beautiful life of work and pleasure. I have a great heart and great courage—you will see me at work. So, if you will permit it, I will be your companion at first—until the day you really want to call me your friend!
(During this monologue, Baptiste has brought a cloth and placed lunch on the ground.)
Marcel
But you already are!
Musette and Phemie
Yes, monsieur, you are.
Baptiste
You are served.
Rodolphe
Baptiste, you will leave with us. You are a studious lad—you will make your way.
Baptiste
What an honor.
Phemie (aside)
He’s really quite nice, this Baptiste—if only he had a uniform.
Rodolphe
And now—to lunch.
All
To lunch!
(They sit on the bench and overturned chairs and attack the lunch.)
Chorus
To lunch, my friends.
Chance gaily unites us
On this flowered strand.
Already our places are set.
Marcel (holding a bottle)
Royal Champagne, I recognize him by his silver helmet. Stay away from it, it’s not wine!
Rodolphe (astonished)
What is it, then?
Marcel
Elegant cider.
Schaunard
Tasteless.
Marcel (throwing the bottle to Baptiste)
Offer it to the ladies. The first duty of wine is to be red. Baptiste, my friend, pass us some Burgundy.
(Marcel takes a bottle and pours.)
Baptiste
Do you want some water?
Marcel
Water in wine? That’s like Platonism in love.
Phemie
What is Platonism?
Musette
Stupidities—the disease of men who don’t dare to embrace women.
Phemie
Fie! The horror.
Musette (embracing Marcel)
Let’s drink our pure wine.
Marcel
And long live youth!
All (as they drink)
Long live youth.
Chorus (all)
Our future must shine
In the sun of our twenty years.
Let’s love and sing together,
Youth is too short.
Schaunard
Armed with patience
Against evil destiny,
Courage and hope,
We mould our bread.
Our careless attitude
To the fanfares of our song
Makes our misery happy,
Youth is too short.
Chorus
Our future must shine
In the sun of our twenty years.
Let’s love and sing together,
Youth is too short.
Marcel
If the chosen mistress,
Who by luck loves us
And makes our poetry bloom
With the flame of her glance,
Knowing her taste for being beautiful,
Without causing us pain—
Let’s love her all the same—sweet infidel.
Youth is too short.
Chorus
Our future must shine
In the sun of our twenty years.
Let’s love and sing together,
Youth is too short.
Musette
Since the most beautiful things,
Love affairs and beauty
Like lilies and roses,
Have only the season of Summer,
When May in flowering arbors
Drapes the green flag of Spring,
Let’s love and sing some more.
Youth is very short.
Chorus
Our future must shine
In the sun of our twenty years.
Let’s love and sing together,
Youth is too short.
Baptiste (at the back, utters a scream)
Ah!
All
What is it?
Baptiste
Monsieur Durandin! Monsieur Durandin! I notice his carriage—and quick—quick!
Marcel
The devil!
Schaunard
Let’s help the waiter.
(Schaunard puts a bottle in his pocket. Phemie puts cakes and fruits in her pockets.)
Rodolphe
Gentlemen! I am desolated! But—
(All fill the hamper which they carry behind the pavilion.)
Marcel
We understand perfectly.
Rodolphe
We will see each other again soon. There’s time to pack my suitcase and not to embrace my uncle.
Colline (in the back)
The carriage is approaching.
Rodolphe
Wait for me in the little wood that adjoins the garden.
Phemie
But, which way to leave?
Baptiste
Not by the door.
Musette
Over the wall.
Marcel
Doubtless.
Baptiste
The carriage is entering the courtyard.
Musette and Phemie
Save yourself if you can!
(Musette and Phemie go over the balustrade. Marcel shakes Rodolphe’s hand and jumps in his turn. Colline stops and returns.)
Colline
Ah! My God! I’ve forgotten my books.
Schaunard
You will take them another time.
(Colline vanishes.)
Schaunard
Say, Monsieur Rodolphe, I left a chicken leg.
Rodolphe
That doesn’t matter.
(Schaunard disappears.)
Baptiste (looking to the right)
Just in time.
Rodolphe
They’re already far away. Now it’s a question of finding an honest way to leave here.
Baptiste
Ah! My God! Monsieur Million seems so agitated.
Rodolphe
Heavens, he’s alone.
Baptiste
It’s true. Here he is.
Durandin (coming in from the right)
Ah! My friend! My dear nephew.
Rodolphe
What’s the matter with you, Uncle?
Durandin
What an adventure! Madame de Rouvre—
Rodolphe
You are terrifying me!
Durandin
Getting out of the carriage—she sprained her ankle.
Rodolphe
Where is she?
Durandin
At the Lion Inn—a terrible inn.
Rodolphe (aside)
Ah! Now, there’s my way out. (aloud, uneasily) What! Madame de Rouvre will be deprived of those thousand little nothings to which she’s become accustomed! Uncle, I am taking your carriage.
(Rodolphe passes near Baptiste.)
Durandin (aside)
He’s going there.
Rodolphe (to Baptiste)
Ah! Baptiste—a suitcase, some linen, plates, my books to distract her—don’t forget anything. (low) Don’t forget my pipes.
Baptiste
Where are we going?
Rodolphe (low)
To Bohemia. (aloud) Go—run!
(Baptiste leaves by the right.)
Rodolphe (to Durandin)
Goodbye, Uncle.
Durandin
Goodbye, my boy.
(Rodolphe leaves quickly by the right.)
Durandin (alone, rubbing his hands)
The trick succeeded. Now we know what we’ve got. He loves her like a madman. It’s true what they say—what a woman wants, God wants. (a carriage can be heard leaving) Gone already!
Chorus (heard from off)
Our future must shine
In the sun of our twenty years.
Let’s love and sing together,
Youth is too short.
Durandin
What’s that? (runs to the back and looks over the balustrade) Ah! My God, he tricked me.
CURTAIN
