"he threw the letters into the
fireplace and the gloves out of the window, but without any theatrical
effort, and quite naturally, as one does when one wants to get rid of
something useless."

"My dear Monsieur Marcel, I assure you that from the bottom of my heart
I hope that this indifference may last. But, once more in all sincerity,
I do not believe in such a speedy cure and, in spite of all you tell me,
I am convinced that my poet's heart is broken."

"That may be," replied Marcel, taking leave of Mimi, "but unless I may
be very much mistaken, the pieces are still good for something."

During this colloquy in a public thoroughfare, Vicomte Paul was awaiting
his new mistress, who was behindhand in her appointment, and decidedly
disagreeable towards him. He seated himself at her feet and warbled his
favorite strain, namely, that she was charming, fair as a lily, gentle
as a lamb, but that he loved her above all on account of the beauties of
her soul.

"Ah!" thought Mimi, loosening the waves of her dark hair over her snowy
shoulders, "my lover Rodolphe, was not so exclusive."

As Marcel had stated, Rodolphe seemed to be radically cured of his love
for Mademoiselle Mimi, and three or four days after his separation, the
poet reappeared completely metamorphosed. He was attired with an
elegance that must have rendered him unrecognizable by his very looking
glass. Nothing, indeed, about him seemed to justify the fear that he
intended to commit suicide, as Mademoiselle Mimi had started the rumor,
with all kinds of hypocritical condolences. Rodolphe was, in fact, quite
calm. He listened with unmoved countenance to all the stories told him
about the new and sumptuous existence led by his mistress--who took
pleasure in keeping him informed on these points--by a young girl who
had remained her confidant, and who had occasion to see Rodolphe almost
every evening.

"Mimi is very happy with Vicomte Paul," the poet was told. "She seems
thoroughly smitten with him, only one thing causes her any uneasiness,
she is afraid least you should disturb her tranquillity by coming after
her, which by the way, would be dangerous for you, for the vicomte
worships his mistress and is a good fencer."

"Oh," said Rodolphe. "She can sleep in peace, I have no wish to go and
cast vinegar over the sweetness of her honeymoon. As to her young
lover, he can leave his dagger at home like Gastibelza. I have no wish
to attempt the life of a young ge