(RUDOLPH,_ reassured at seeing MIMI fall asleep, gently moves away from the bedside, and motioning the others not to make any noise, approaches _MARCEL.)
RUD. What said the doctor?
MAR. He'll come.
MUS. (_who is busily heating the medicine, brought by MARCEL, over the spirit-lamp, as she unconsciously murmurs a prayer_) Oh! Mary! Blessed Virgin! Save, of thy mercy, this poor maiden! Save her, Madonna mine, from death! (Rudolph, Marcel and Schaunard_ whisper together. Every now and then Rudolph goes on tiptoe to the bed, and then rejoins his companions. Musetta, interrupting, bids Marcel place a book upright on the table, so as to shade the lamp._) Here there should be a shade, Because the lamp is flickering! Like this. (resuming her prayer) And, oh! may she recover! Madonna! holy mother! I merit not thy pardon, But our little Mimi is an angel from Heaven! (Rudolph _approaches Musetta, while Schaunard goes on tiptoe to the bedside; with a sorrowful gesture he goes back to _Marcel.)
RUD. I still have hope. Do you think it serious?
MUS. Not serious.
SCH. (hoarsely) Marcel, she is dead! (Marcel in his turn goes up to the bed, and retreats in alarm; a ray of sunshine falls through the window upon Mimi's face; Musetta points to her cloak, which, with a grateful glance, Rudolph takes, and standing upon a chair, endeavors to form a screen by stretching the cloak across the window-pane.)
COL. (quietly entering and putting some money on the table near
Musetta) How is she?
RUD. See, now! She's tranquil.
(RUDOLPH, turning round, sees MUSETTA, who makes a sign to him that the medicine is ready; getting off the chair, he is suddenly aware of the strange demeanor of MARCEL and SCHAUNARD.)