MAR. Shall I be frank? I think 'tis hardly true.

RUD. No, 'tis not true.
In vain, in vain I smother
All the torture that racks me.
I love Mimi, she is my only treasure!
I love her, but, oh! I fear it!

(_Mimi surprised, comes closer and closer, under cover of the trees_)

Mimi's so sickly, so ailing,
Every day she grows weaker,
The poor girl, as I think, is dying.

MAR. (_fearing MIMI may overhear them, tries to keep RUDOLPH further
off_) Oh! Rudolph!

MIMI. What's he saying?

RUD. By fierce, incessant coughing
Her fragile frame is shaken,
While in her cheeks so pallid
The fires of fever waken.

MAR. (_agitated, perceiving that Mimi is listening_) Softly!

MIMI. (_weeping_) Woe is me! I'm dying!

RUD. And my room's but a squalid hovel,