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 seems to need, the idle rascal,
Content to live in ease, just like a lord!

MAR. 'Tis now a good, long while since we paid his lawful wages.

RUD. Of what use are the forests all white under the snow?

MAR. Now Rudolph, let me tell you
A fact that overcomes me,
I'm simply frozen!

RUD. (_approaching_ MARCEL)
And I, Marcel, to be quite candid,
I've no faith in the sweat of my brow.

MAR. All my fingers are frozen
Just as if they'd been touching that iceberg,
Touching that block of marble, the heart of false Musetta.

(_Heaves a long sigh, laying aside his palette and brushes, and ceases
painting.)_

RUD. Ah! love's a stove consuming a deal of fuel!

MAR. Too quickly.