Marcel, torpid from incipient drunkenness, leaped up from his chair, and ran to open it.

Musette was not there.
A gentleman appeared on the threshold; he was not only bad looking, but his dressing gown was wretchedly made.

In his hand he held a slip of paper.
"I am glad to see you so comfortable," he said, looking at the table on which were the remains of a magnificent leg of mutton.
"The landlord!" cried Rodolphe.

"Let us receive him with the honors due to his position!" and he commenced beating on his plate with his knife and fork.
Colline handed him a chair, and Marcel cried: "Come, Schaunard! Pass us a clean glass.

You are just in time," he continued to the landlord, "we were going to drink to your health.