After having entered however
with my conductor through an archway, and passed along a winding
passage that was perfectly dark, we came to a stand.
At the upper end of this passage was a door, which I was unable to
perceive. My conductor knocked at the door, and was answered by a voice
from within, which, for body and force, might have been the voice of a
man, but with a sort of female sharpness and acidity, enquiring, "Who is
there?" Satisfaction was no sooner given on this point, than I heard two
bolts pushed back, and the door unlocked. The apartment opened, and we
entered. The interior of this habitation by no means corresponded with
the appearance of my protector, but, on the contrary, wore the face of
discomfort, carelessness, and dirt. The only person I saw within was a
woman, rather advanced in life, and whose person had I know not what of
extraordinary and loathsome. Her eyes were red and blood-shot; her hair
was pendent in matted and shaggy tresses about her shoulders; her
complexion swarthy, and of the consistency of parchment; her form spare,
and her whole body, her arms in particular, uncommonly vigorous and
muscular.
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