novel the most free, perhaps, in
modern literature.

Yet, in this strange book, if the characters of each person therein
stand out clear and sharply defined, we often may perceive that one
and the same temperament bears different names, and that it is
incarnated, so to speak, in two different persons. Who cannot detect
in the delicate profile of one woman the personality both of Mimi and
of Francine? Who, as he reads of Mimi's "little hands, whiter than
those of the Goddess of Ease," is not reminded of Francine's little
muff?

The authors deem it their duty to point out this identity of
character. It has seemed to them that these two mirthful, fragile, and
unhappy creatures in this comedy of Bohemian life might haply figure
as one person, whose name should not be Mimi, not Francine, but "the
Ideal."]

ACT I

"...Mimi was a charming girl specially apt to appeal to Rudolph, the
poet and dreamer. Aged twenty-two, she was slight and graceful. Her
face reminded one of some sketch of high-born beauty; its features had
marvellous refinement.

"The hot, impetuous blood of youth coursed through her veins, giving
a rosy hue to her clear complexion that had the white velvety bloom of
the camellia.

"This frail beauty allured Rudolph. But what wholly served to enchant
him were Mimi's tiny hands, that, despite her household duties, she
contrived to keep whiter even than the Goddess of Ease."

ACT I

IN THE ATTIC

_Spacious window, from which one sees an expanse of snow-clad roofs.
On left, a fireplace, a table, small cupboard, a little book-case,
four chairs, a picture easel, a bed, a few books, many packs of cards,
two candlesticks. Door in the middle, another on left._

_Curtain rises quickly_

RUDOLPH and MARCEL. RUDOLPH _looks pensively out of the window._
MARCEL _works at his painting, "The Passage of the Red Sea," with
hands nipped with cold, and warms them by blowing on them from
time to time, often changing position on account of the frost._

MAR. (_seated, continuing to paint_)
This Red Sea passage feels as damp and chill to me
As if adown my back a stream were flowing.

(_Goes a little way back from the easel to look at the picture._)

But in revenge a Pharaoh will I drown.

(_Turning to his work._)

And you? (to RUDOLPH)

RUD. (_pointing to the tireless stove_)
Lazily rising, see how the smoke
From thousands of chimneys floats upward!
And yet that stove of ours
No fuel