The boldest pleasantries had failed to move him; he would remain all the evening, smoking his pipe with mathematical regularity, his eyes fixed as if watching a treasure, and his ears open to all what was said around him.

As to his other qualities, he seemed quiet and well off, for he possessed a watch with a gold chain; and one day, Marcel, meeting him at the bar, caught him in the act of changing a louis to pay his score.

From that moment, the four friends designated him by the name of "The Capitalist." Suddenly Schaunard, who had very good eyes, remarked that the glasses were empty.
"Yes," exclaimed Rodolphe, "and this is Christmas Eve! We are good Christians, and ought to have something extra." "Yes, indeed," added Marcel, "let's call for something supernatural." "Colline," continued Rodolphe, "ring a little for the waiter." Colline rang like one possessed.
"What shall we have ?" asked Marcel.
Colline made a low bow and pointed to the women.
"It is the business of these ladies to regulate the nature and order of our refreshment." "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.