"I," said Musette, smacking her lips, "should not be afraid of Champagne."
"Are you crazy?" exclaimed Marcel. "Champagne! That isn't wine to begin with."
"So much the worse; I like it, it makes a noise."
"I," said Mimi, with a coaxing look at Rodolphe, "would like some Beaune, in a little basket."
"Have you lost your senses?" said Rodolphe.
"No, but I want to lose them," replied Mimi. The poet was thunderstruck.
"I," said Phemie, dancing herself on the elastic sofa, "would rather have parfait amour; it's good for the stomach."
Schaunard articulated, in a nasal tone, some words which made Phemie tremble on her spring foundation.
"Bah!" said Marcel, recovering himself the first. "Let us spend a hundred francs for this once!"
"Yes," said Rodolphe, "they complain of our not being good customers. Let's astonish them!"