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      Let’s go to it, gaily.

      Musette and Phemie (singing together)

      Let’s glean,

      Let’s pick

      The daisies.

      Among the green turf.

      To the sweet songs of warblers.

      Let’s mingle, mingle,

      Our gay tunes.

      (The women leave by the left, Colline leaves by the right. Rodolphe takes up, one by one, the books Colline deposited on the bench.)

      Rodolphe

      Chemistry, engineering, physics. Ah, indeed, why, your friend is a walking library.

      Marcel

      Ah, you see, it’s that Colline is the studious and dreamy child of Bohemia.

      Rodolphe

      Bohemia?

      Marcel

      Bohemia, bordered on the north by hope, work and gayety—on the south by necessity and courage—on the west and east by slander and the Hotel Dieu.

      Rodolphe

      I thank you very much, but I don’t understand.

      Marcel

      You desire a second lesson in geography relative to Bohemia? It’s very easy, monsieur, for you see before you two natives of the country.

      Schaunard

      Bohemia—us.

      Rodolphe

      You?

      Marcel

      That is to say, all those, who, driven by an obstinate vocation, go into art with no other means of existence than art itself; wit always kept on watch by their ambition which beats the charge before them and drives them to an assault on the future. Their everyday existence is a work of genius, a quotidian problem. But if a small fortune falls into their hands, they are to be seen cavalcading in the most serious fantasies, loving the youngest and the most beautiful, drinking the best and oldest wines—never finding enough windows to throw their money out of.

      Schaunard

      Then, when their last franc is dead and buried—they begin diving over again at the table d’hôtel, where their place is always set—and to hunt down from noon to midnight that ferocious arrival—a one hundred sous coin—intelligent folk who would have found truffles on the raft of the Medusa.

      Marcel

      They don’t know how to take the steps on the boulevard without meeting a friend.

      Schaunard

      Or thirty steps—no matter where—without meeting a creditor.

      Marcel

      And when January comes, pockets full of colds and hands full of chilblains, they warm themselves philosophically by burning their furniture.

      Schaunard

      That’s what moderns call sitting by the chimney.

      Rodolphe

      Truly, gentlemen, your carefree courage, your joyful philosophy enchants me. I would never like to leave you.

      Schaunard

      We will stay here just as long as you like, monsieur.

      Ladies (outside)

      Here we are!

      (Musette and Phemie come in, loaded down with flowers. Phemie has an apple.)

      Chorus

      Let’s glean,

      Let’s pick

      The daisies.

      Among the green turf.

      To the sweet songs of warblers.

      Let’s mingle, mingle,

      Our gay tunes.

      Musette

      There’s our harvest.

      Phemie (eating an apple)

      The country is excellent.

      Marcel (to Rodolphe)

      As to the rest, monsieur, we have sweet compensations in our life of trials. These young girls are our living joys. We love them madly and perhaps they will love us forever.

      (Phemie passes by Schaunard who is seated.)

      Rodolphe

      If forever doesn’t last too long.

      Marcel

      And if the ribbons don’t cost too much. They will remain with us so long as they have heart—and they’ll leave us when they have wit.

      Musette

      Meaning I am stupid?

      Marcel

      Alas, no, my sweet.

      Musette

      As for me, who refused a bank clerk with fine mahogany furniture—

      Marcel

      Yes, but if it had been the banker himself, and he had driven audacity to the point of touching the rosewood—

      Musette

      True. I would have refused him. I’ve still got time—besides, you, too, will be rich.

      Marcel

      Certainly—still, some measure of patience. Anyway, I have an idea. Starting next Monday we will practice economies and I will—

      Musette

      Yes, my little Marcel. I really love you, go on, for you I would throw myself from the top of the towers of Notre Dame.

      Schaunard

      Musette, that impudent remark will cost you four sous. It’s the penalty. (to Phemie) And you! Would you like to die for me?

      Phemie

      Yes, but not of starvation.

      Schaunard (to Rodolphe)

      She is astounding, monsieur. She finds words like those all by herself—without hesitation. She is astounding. I am infatuated with her.

      (Phemie pulls a fruit from her pocket and a paper falls out. Schaunard rises and picks it up.)

      Phemie (aside)

      These fruits! It’s extraordinary how they make you hungry.

      (Phemie goes back upstage.)

      Schaunard (aside)

      What do I see! A declaration with an emblem representing a heart pierced by a bayonet—and signed “A soldier of the Twenty-Ninth.” It was two weeks ago I surprised the presence of another paper signed “A cavalryman of the Twenty-Fourth.” Her heart is a barracks. (calling) Phemie!

      Phemie (coming to him)

      Huh?

      Schaunard

      You know too many people in uniform. (showing the letter) What is this love prospectus signed by a member of the French Cavalry?

      Phemie (troubled)

      That—it’s from a little red man who handed it to me on the Pont Neuf.

      Schaunard

      Very well. (pointing to his cane) Tonight you’ll have an explanation with the bamboo.

      (Colline and Baptiste enter, arm in arm. Colline has a basket. They enter from the back right.)

      Colline

      You are a skeptic, Monsieur Baptiste.

      Baptiste

      Sir,

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