Over the tavern, as its sign-board, hangs MARCEL's picture, "The Pa.s.sage of the Red Sea," while underneath, in large letters, is the inscription. "At the Port of Ma.r.s.eilles." On either side of the door are frescoes of a Turk and a Zouave with a huge laurel-wreath round his fez. From the ground-floor windows of the tavern, which faces the toll-gate, light gleams. The plane-trees, grey and gaunt, which flank the toll-gate square, lead diagonally towards the two boulevards.

Between each tree is a marble bench. It is towards the close of February; snow covers all.

As the curtain rises, the scene is merged in the dim light of early dawn. In front of a brazier are seated, in a group, snoring custom-house officers. From the tavern at intervals one may hear laughter, shouts, and the clink of gla.s.ses. A custom-house official comes out of the tavern with wine. The toll-gate is closed.

Behind the toll-gate, stamping their feet and blowing in their frost-bitten fingers, stand several street-scavengers._

SCAVENGERS. What ho, there! What ho, there! Admit us!

Make haste and let us pa.s.s, The sweepers are we. (_stamping their feet_) Look how it's snowing! What ho, there!

We are frozen!

AN OFFICIAL. (_yawning and stretching himself_) All right!

(_Goes to open the gate; the scavengers pa.s.s through to the Rue d'Enfer. The official closes the gate again._)

CHORUS. (_from the tavern; the clink of gla.s.ses forms an accompaniment to the song_) Pa.s.s the gla.s.s, Let each toast his la.s.s; Pa.s.s the gla.s.s, Let each lad toast his la.s.s; Ha! Ha!

Each one as he sips, As he sips his wine, Shall dream of lips Made for love divine!

MUS. (_from the tavern_) Ah!

As the toper loves his gla.s.s, So the gallant loves his la.s.s.

CHORUS. (_all bursting into laughter_) Noah and Eve!

MILK WOMEN. (_from within_) Houp-la! Houp-la!

(_A sergeant comes out of the guard-house and orders the toll-gate to be opened._)

CUSTOM HOUSE OFFICIAL. Here come the women with their milk.

(_A tinkling of cart-bells is heard._)

CARTERS. (_from within_) Houp-la!

(_Carts pa.s.s along the outer boulevard, lighted by large lanterns._)

MILK WOMEN. (_quite close_) Houp-la!

(_The gloom gradually gives way to daylight._)

MILK WOMEN. (_to the officials who admit them to the toll-gate_) Good-morrow!

PEASANT WOMEN. (_who enter carrying baskets_) b.u.t.ter! Cheese!

Chickens and eggs!

SOME. Which way, then, are you going?

OTHERS. Up to Saint Michael's.

SOME. Well, shall we see you later?

OTHERS. At twelve o'clock.

(_They go off in various directions, and the officials remove the bench and brazier._)

(_Enter _MIMI_ from the Rue d'Enfer; she looks about her as if anxious to make sure of her whereabouts. On reaching the first plane-tree she is seized by a violent fit of coughing. Then recovering herself, she sees the sergeant, whom she approaches._)

MIMI. Oh! Please, sir, tell me the name of that tavern Where now a painter's working?

SERGEANT. (_pointing to the tavern_) There it is.

MIMI. Thank you.

(_A serving woman comes out of the tavern; _MIMI_ goes to her._) Oh! my good woman, pray do me this favor!

Can you find me the painter, Marcel?

I fain would see him; the matter's urgent; Just tell him softly that Mimi awaits him.

SERGEANT. (_to a pa.s.ser-by_) Ho! there! What's in the basket?

OFFICIAL. (_after searching the basket_) Empty.

SERGEANT. Pa.s.s, there!

(_Other folk now pa.s.s through the toll-gate and move off in different directions. The bell of the Hospice Ste. Therese rings for matins._)

MAR. (_coming out of the inn_) Mimi!

MIMI. I hoped that I should find you here.

MAR. Aye, here we've been for a month: So to pay for our footing, Musetta teaches singing To those who come here.

And I, well--I paint warriors-- There, on the house front!

MIMI. Where is Rudolph?

MAR. Here. 'Tis bitter, pray enter!

MIMI. (_bursting into tears_)

Enter I cannot, no!

MAR. Why not?

MIMI. Oh! good Marcel! oh! help me!

MAR. Say, what has happened?

MIMI. Rudolph is madly jealous!

He loves and yet avoids me!

A glance, a touch, a token, Suffice to make him jealous, And start his senseless fury!

And oft at night, When feigning to be sleeping, I felt his eyes were watching to spy upon my slumbers!

How oft he would reproach me!