eets an alphabetical
table containing the names of all his acquaintances. Opposite each name
was inscribed the maximum of the sum which the party's finances
authorized the artist to borrow of him, the time when he was flush, and
his dinner hour, as well as his usual bill of fare. Beside this table,
he kept a book, in perfect order, on which he entered the sums lent him,
down to the smallest fraction; for he would never burden himself beyond
a certain amount which was within the fortune of a country relative,
whose heir-apparent he was. As soon as he owed one person twenty francs,
he closed the account and paid him off, even if obliged to borrow for
the purpose of those to whom he owed less. In this way he always kept up
a certain credit which he called his floating debt, and as people knew
that he was accustomed to repay as soon as his means permitted him,
those who could accommodate him were very ready to do so.

But on the present occasion, from eleven in the morning, when he had
started to try and collect the seventy-five francs requisite, up to six
in the afternoon, he had only raised three francs, contributed by three
letters (M., V., and R.) of his famous list. All the rest of the
alphabet, having, like himself, their quarter to pay, had adjourned his
claim indefinitely.

The clock of his stomach sounded the dinner-hour. He was then at the
Maine barrier, where letter U lived. Schaunard mounted to letter U's
room, where he had a knife and fork, when there were such articles on
the premises.

"Where are you going, sir?" asked the porter, stopping him before he had
completed his ascent.

"To Monsieur U," replied the artist.

"He's out."

"And madame?"

"Out too. They told me to say to a friend who was coming to see them
this evening, that they were gone out to dine. In fact, if you are the
gentleman they expected, this is the address they left." It was a scrap
of paper on which his friend U. had written. "We are gone to dine with
Schaunard, No.__, Rue de__. Come for us there."

"Well," said he, going away, "accident does make queer farces
sometimes." Then remembering that there was a little tavern near by,
where he had more than once procured a meal at a not unreasonable rate,
he directed his steps to this establishment, situated in the adjoining
road, and known among the lowest class of artistdom as "Mother Cadet's."
It is a drinking-house which is also an eating-house, and its ordinary
customers are cart