Colline drew forward a chair which had about as much elasticity as a piece of bronze and offered it to the Jew, Medicis let himself fall into the chair, and started to complain of its hardness, when he remembered that he himself had once traded it off to Colline in exchange for a profession of faith which he afterward sold to a deputy.  As he sat down the pockets of the Jew gave forth a silvery sound, and this melodious symphony threw the four bohemians into a reverie that was full of sweetness.

“Now,” said Rodolphe, in a low tone, to Marcel, “let us hear the song.  The accompaniment sounds all right.”

“Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis.  “I have simply come to make your fortune.  That is to say, I have come to offer you a superb opportunity to enter into the world of art.  Art, as you very well know, Monsieur Marcel, is an arid road, in which glory is the oasis.”

“Father Medicis,” said Marcel, who was on coals of impatience, “in the name of fifty per cent, your revered patron saint, be brief.”

“Here is the offer,” rejoined Medicis.  “A wealthy amateur, who is collecting a picture-gallery destined to make the tour of Europe, has commissioned me to procure for him a series of remarkable works.  I have come to give you a chance to be included in this collection.  In one word, I have come to purchase your ‘Passage of the Red Sea.’”

“Money down?” asked Marcel.

“Money down,” answered the Jew, sounding forth the full orchestra of his pockets.

“Go on, Medicis,” said Marcel, pointing to his painting.  “I wish to leave to you the honor of fixing for yourself the price of that work of art which is priceless.”

The Jew laid Upon the table fifty crowns in bright new silver.

“Keep them going,” said Marcel; “that is a good beginning.”

“Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis, “you know very well that my first word is always my last word.  I shall add nothing more.  But think; fifty crowns; that makes one hundred and fifty francs.  That is quite a sum.”

“A paltry sum,” answered the artist; “just in the robe of my Pharaoh there is fifty crowns’ worth of cobalt.  Pay me at least something for my work.”

“Hear my last word,” replied Medicis.  “I will not add a penny more; but, I offer dinner for the crowd, wines included, and after dessert I will pay in gold.”

“Do I hear any one object?” howled Colline, striking three blows of his fist upon the table.  “It is a bargain.”

“Come on,” said Marcel.  “I agree.”

“I will send for the picture to-morrow,” said the Jew.  “Come, gentlemen, let us start.  Your places are all set.”

The four friends descended the stairs, singing the chorus from “The Huguenots,” “to the table, to the table.”

Medicis treated the bohemians in a fashion altogether sumptuous.  He offered them a lot of things which up to now had remained for them a mystery.  Dating from this dinner, lobster ceased to be a myth to Schaunard, and he acquired a passion for that amphibian which was destined to increase to the verge of delirium.