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."