Libretto: La Boheme - LightNovelsOnl.com
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MIMI. It was dark, and my blushes were unnoticed. (_faintly repeating _Rudolph's_ words_) "Your tiny hand is frozen, Let me warm it into life!"
It was dark, and my hand then you clasped-- (_a sudden spasm half suffocates her; she sinks back fainting_)
RUD. (_raising her in alarm_) Oh! G.o.d! Mimi!
(_At this moment _Schaunard_ returns, and hearing _Rudolph's_ exclamation, hastens to the bedside._)
SCH. What now?
MIMI. (_opens her eyes and smilingly rea.s.sures _Rudolph_ and _Schaunard) Nothing; I'm better.
RUD. (_gently lowering her_) Gently, for goodness' sake!
MIMI. Yes, forgive me: now it's over.
(MUSETTA _and_ MARCEL_ cautiously enter; _MUSETTA_ carrying a m.u.f.f, and her companion a phial._)
MUS. (_to RUDOLPH_) Sleeping?
RUD. (_approaching MARCEL_) Just resting.
MAR. I have seen the doctor.
He'll come--I bade him hasten.
Here's the tonic.
(_Takes a spirit lamp, and placing it upon the table, lights it._)
MIMI. Who is it?
MUS. I--Musetta. (_Approaches Mimi and gives her the m.u.f.f. Helped by Musetta, she sits up in bed, and, with almost infantine glee, seizes the m.u.f.f_)
MIMI. So soft it is and feathery!
No more will my poor fingers be frozen, For this m.u.f.f shall keep them warm. (_to _Rudolph) Did you give me this present?
MUS. (_eagerly_) Yes!
MIMI. You thoughtless fellow! Thank you.
It cost you dear. (Rudolph _bursts into tears_) Weep not: I'm better.
Why should you weep for me?
Here love . . . ever with you! . . .
(_thrusts her hands into the m.u.f.f; then she gradually grows drowsy, gracefully nodding her head, as one who is overcome by sleep_) My hands are much warmer: now I will sleep!
(RUDOLPH,_ rea.s.sured 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. (_hoa.r.s.ely_) Marcel, she is dead!
(_Marcel in his turn goes up to the bed, and retreats in alarm; a ray of suns.h.i.+ne 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._)
RUD. (_huskily, almost in a speaking voice_) What's the meaning of this going and this coming, And these glances so strange?
(_He glances from one to the other in consternation._)
MAR. (_unable to bear up any longer, hastens to embrace _Rudolph_ as he murmurs_) Poor fellow!
RUD. (_flings himself on _Mimi's_ bed, lifts her up, shakes her by the hand, and exclaims in tones of anguish_) Mimi! Mimi!
(_he falls, sobbing, upon her lifeless form_) (_Terror-stricken, _MUSETTA_ rushes to the bed, utters a piercing cry of grief; then kneels sobbing, at the foot of the bed. _SCHAUNARD_, overcome, sinks back into a chair; to the left, _COLLINE_ stands at the foot of the bed, dazed at the suddenness of this catastrophe.
_MARCEL_, sobbing, turns his back to the footlights. The curtain slowly falls._)
