And he handed round the letter of his ex-mistress, which began with the
words, "My dear old pet."

"I am her dear old pet," said the landlord, vainly trying to rise from
his chair.

"Good," said Marcel, who was watching him. "He has cast anchor."

"Phemie, cruel Phemie," murmured Schaunard. "You have wounded me
deeply."

"I have furnished a little apartment for her at 12, Rue Coquenard," said
the landlord. "Pretty, very pretty. It cost me lots of money. But such
love is beyond price and I have twenty thousand francs a year. She asks
me for money in her letter. Poor little dear, she shall have this," and
he stretched out his hand for the money--"hallo! Where is it?" he added
in astonishment feeling on the table. The money had disappeared.

"It is impossible for a moral man to become an accomplice in such
wickedness," said Marcel. "My conscience forbids me to pay money to this
old profligate. I shall not pay my rent, but my conscience will at any
rate be clear. What morals, and in a bald headed man too."

By this time the landlord was completely gone, and talked at random to
the bottles. He had been there nearly two hours, when his wife, alarmed
at his prolonged absence, sent the maid after him. On seeing her master
in such a state, she set up a shriek, and asked, "what are they doing
to him?"

"Nothing," answered Marcel. "He came a few minutes ago to ask for the
rent. As we had no money we begged for time."

"But he's been and got drunk," said the servant.

"Very likely," replied Rodolphe. "Most of that was done before he came
here. He told us that he had been arranging his cellar."

"And he had so completely lost his head," added Colline, "that he
wanted to leave the receipt without the money."

"Give these to his wife," said Marcel, handing over the receipts. "We
are honest folk, and do not wish to take advantage of his condition."

"Good heavens! What will madame say?" exclaimed the maid, leading, or
rather dragging off her master, who had a very imperfect idea of the use
of his legs.

"So much for him!" ejaculated Marcel.

"He has smelt money," said Rodolphe. "He will come again tomorrow."

"When he does, I will threaten to tell his wife about Phemie and he will
give us time enough."

When the landlord had been got outside, the four friends went on smoking
and drinking. Marcel alone retained a glimmer of lucidity in his
intoxication. From time to time, at the slightest sound on the
staircase, h