the same level of expansiveness as the two friends, and poured out his
confidences in turn.

They would no doubt have passed the night at the cafe if they had not
been requested to leave. They had not gone ten steps, which had taken
them a quarter of an hour to accomplish, before they were surprised by a
violent downpour. Colline and Rodolphe lived at opposite ends of Paris,
one on the Ile Saint Louis, and the other at Montmartre.

Schaunard, who had wholly forgotten that he was without a residence,
offered them hospitality.

"Come to my place," said he, "I live close by, we will pass the night in
discussing literature and art."

"You shall play and Rodolphe will recite some of his verses to us," said
Colline.

"Right you are," said Schaunard, "life is short, and we must enjoy
ourselves whilst we can."

Arriving at the house, which Schaunard had some difficulty in
recognizing, he sat down for a moment on a corner-post waiting for
Rodolphe and Colline, who had gone into a wine-shop that was still open
to obtain the primary element of a supper. When they came back,
Schaunard rapped several times at the door, for he vaguely recollected
that the porter had a habit of keeping him waiting. The door at length
opened, and old Durand, half aroused from his first sleep, and no longer
recalling that Schaunard had ceased to be his tenant, did not disturb
himself when the latter called out his name to him.