Colline's eyes remained riveted on the rope ladder as well as the cage, in which the bird, thawed by the atmosphere of the cafe, began to sing in a language unknown to Colline, who was, however, a polyglottist.
"Well then," said the philosopher pointing to the rope ladder, "what is that?"
"A connecting link between my love and me," replied Rodolphe, in lute like accents.
"And that?" asked Colline, pointing to the bird.
"That," said the poet, whose voice grew soft as the summer breeze, "is a clock."
"Tell me without parables—in vile prose, but truly."
"Very well. Have you read Shakespeare?"
"Have I read him? 'To be or not to be?' He was a great philosopher. Yes, I have read him."
"Do your remember Romeo and Juliet?"
"Do I remember?" said Colline, and he began to recite: