"Why not?" asked the latter.

"There," said Marcel, pointing to a feminine head that had just peeped
out from behind a curtain, "there is my answer."

"It is not a pretty one," said Rodolphe, who had just had the door
closed in his face. "Ah!" said he to himself when he got into the
street, "what shall I do? Suppose I call on Colline, we could pass the
time in abusing Marcel."

Passing along the Rue de l'Ouest, usually dark and unfrequented,
Rodolphe made out a shade walking up and down in melancholy fashion, and
muttering in rhyme.

"Ho, ho!" said Rodolphe, "who is this animated sonnet loitering here?
What, Colline!"

"What Rodolphe! Where are you going?"

"To your place."

"You won't find me there."

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting."

"What are you waiting for?"