bedroom for Oscar. Opposite
to the entrance, on what is called in Paris "le carre,"--that is, the
square landing,--was the door of a back room, opening, on every floor,
into a sort of tower built of rough stone, in which was also the well
for the staircase. This was the room in which Moreau slept whenever he
went to Paris.

Pierrotin had seen in the first room, where he deposited the hampers,
six wooden chairs with straw seats, a table, and a sideboard; at the
windows, discolored curtains. Later, when he entered the salon, he
noticed some old Empire furniture, now shabby; but only as much as all
proprietors exact to secure their rent. Pierrotin judged of the bedroom
by the salon and dining-room. The wood-work, painted coarsely of a
reddish white, which thickened and blurred the mouldings and figurines,
far from being ornamental, was distressing to the eye. The floors, never
waxed, were of that gray tone we see in boarding-schools. When Pierrotin
came upon Monsieur and Madame Clapart at their meals he saw that their
china, glass, and all other little articles betrayed the utmost poverty;
and yet, though the chipped and mended dishes and tureens were those
of the poorest families and provoked pity, the forks and spoons were of
silver.

Monsieur Clapart, clothed in a shabby surtout, his feet in broken
slippers, always wore green spectacles, and exhibited, whenever he
removed his shabby cap of a bygone period, a pointed skull, from the top
of which trailed a few dirty filaments which even a poet could scarcely
call hair. This man, of wan complexion, seemed timorous, but withal
tyrannical.

In this dreary apartment, which faced the north and had no other outlook
than to a vine on the opposite wall and a well in the corner of the
yard, Madame Clapart bore herself with the airs of a queen, and moved
like a woman unaccustomed to go anywhere on foot. Often, while thanking
Pierrotin, she gave him glances which would have touched to pity an
intelligent observer; from time to time she would slip a twelve-sous
piece into his hand, and then her voice was charming. Pierrotin had
never seen Oscar, for the reason that the boy was always in school at
the time his business took him to the house.

Here is the sad story which Pierrotin could never have discovered, even
by asking for information, as he sometimes did, from the portress of
the house; for that individual knew nothing beyond the fact that the
Claparts paid a rent of two hu