"It is strange," said Rodolphe, putting his hand to his heart; "I feel nothing here. Was my love killed on learning that Mimi was to die?"
"Who knows?" murmured the painter.
Mimi's death caused great mourning amongst the Bohemians.
A week later Rodolphe met in the street the dresser who had informed him of his mistress's death.
"Ah, my dear Rodolphe!" said he, hastening up to the poet. "Forgive me the pain I caused you by my heedlessness."
"What do you mean?" asked Rodolphe in astonishment.
"What," replied the dresser, "you do not know? You have not seen her again?"
"Seen whom?" exclaimed Rodolphe.
"Her, Mimi."
"What?" said the poet, turning deadly pale.