Colline is cold, now, without his greatcoat. How dear it was! He is not without regret for it, the venerable thing. Of course it was proper and kind to sell it for Mimi's sake, but Mimi is dead, and he the philosopher has no place to put his philosophies. It feels peculiar to have no pockets.
Schaunard offers his own coat, saying "Philosophe!" and all the other things he always says, but Colline protests, for now Schaunard is the one without a coat.
Schaunard rolls his eyes, and drapes the coat over both their shoulders, and Colline laughs, and they walk terribly close together so that it will cover them both. They each put an arm through a sleeve, but discover a difficulty with there being two more arms and no more sleeves. At last they wrap the inconvenient extra arms around one another, and at last Colline is warm.
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