And as he cast a furtive glance towards Rodolphe, he saw the poet, who had come to the end of his auto-da-fe, putting quietly into his own pocket, after having tenderly kissed it, a little night cap that had belonged to Mimi.
"Come," muttered Marcel, "he is as great a coward as I am."
At the very moment that Rodolphe was about to return to his room to go to bed, there were two little taps at Marcel's door.
"Who the deuce can it be at this time of night?" said the painter, going to open it.
A cry of astonishment burst from him when he had done so.
It was Mimi.
As the room was very dark Rodolphe did not at first recognize his mistress, and only distinguishing a woman, he thought that it was some passing conquest of his friend's, and out of discretion prepared to withdraw.
"I am disturbing you," said Mimi, who had remained on the threshold.
At her voice Rodolphe dropped on his chair as though thunderstruck.
"Good evening," said Mimi, coming up to him and shaking him by the hand which he allowed her to take mechanically.