"
When they reached the Vieille rue du Temple the three friends entered
one of the oldest houses in that street and passed up a shaking
staircase, the steps of which, caked with mud, led them in semi-
darkness, and through a stench peculiar to houses on an alley, to the
third story, where they beheld a door which painting alone could
render; literature would have to spend too many nights in suitably
describing it.
An old woman, in keeping with that door, and who might have been that
door in human guise, ushered the three friends into a room which
served as an ante-chamber, where, in spite of the warm atmosphere
which fills the streets of Paris, they felt the icy chill of crypts
about them. A damp air came from an inner courtyard which resembled a
huge air-shaft; the light that entered was gray, and the sill of the
window was filled with pots of sickly plants. In this room, which had
a coating of some greasy, fuliginous substance, the furniture, the
chairs, the table, were all most abject. The floor tiles oozed like a
water-cooler. In short, every accessory was in keeping with the
fearful old woman of the hooked nose, ghastly face, and decent rags
who directed the "consulters" to sit down, informing them that only
one at a time could be admitted to Madame.
Gazonal, who played the intrepid, entered bravely, and found himself
in presence of one of those women forgotten by Death, who no doubt
forgets them intentionally in order to leave some samples of Itself
among the living.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79