It is a drinking-house which is also an eating-house, and its ordinary
customers are carters of the Orleans railway, singing-ladies of Mont
Parnasse, and juvenile "leads" from the Bobino theatre. During the warm
season the students of the numerous painters' studios which border on
the Luxembourg, the unappreciated and unedited men of the letters, the
writers of leaders in mysterious newspapers, throng to dine at "Mother
Cadet's," which is famous for its rabbit stew, its veritable sour-crout,
and a miled white wine which smacks of flint.

Schaunard sat down in the grove; for so at "Mother Cadet's" they called
the scattered foliage of two or three rickety trees whose sickly boughs
had been trained into a sort of arbor.

"Hang the expense!" said Schaunard to himself, "I have to have a good
blow-out, a regular Belthazzar's feast in private life," and without
more ado, he ordered a bowl of soup, half a plate of sour-crout, and two
half stews, having observed that you get more for two halves than one
whole one.

This extensive order attracted the attention of a young person in white
with a head-dress of orange flowers and ballshoes; a veil of _sham
imitation_ lace streamed down her shoulders, which she had no special
reason to be proud of. She was a _prima donna_ of the Mont Parnasse
theatre, the greenroom of which opens into Mother Cadet's kitchen; she
had come to take a meal between two acts of _Lucia_, and was at that
moment finishing with a small cup of coffee her dinner, composed
exclusively of an artichoke seasoned with oil and vinegar.

"Two stews! Duece take it!" said she, in an aside to the girl who acted
as waiter at the establishment. "That young man feeds himself well. How