oms and a
dressing-room. You first passed through an antechamber, containing
nothing but chairs, and then a small sitting-room, whose furniture,
shrouded in white covers, slumbered in the gloom cast by the Venetian
shutters, which were always kept closed so as to prevent the light blue
of the upholstery from fading. Then came the bedroom, the only one of
the three which was really used. It was very comfortably furnished in
mahogany. The bed, bulky and drowsy of aspect in the depths of the
damp alcove, was really wonderful, with its four mattresses, its four
pillows, its layers of blankets, and its corpulent _edredon_. It was
evidently a bed intended for slumber. A mirrored wardrobe, a washstand
with drawers, a small central table with a worked cover, and several
chairs whose seats were protected by squares of lace, gave the room an
aspect of plain but substantial middle-class luxury. On the left-hand
wall, on either side of the mantelpiece, which was ornamented with some
landscape-painted vases mounted on bronze stands, and a gilt timepiece
on which a figure of Gutenberg, also gilt, stood in an attitude of
deep thought, hung portraits in oils of Quenu and Lisa, in ornate
oval frames. Quenu had a smiling face, while Lisa wore an air of grave
propriety; and both were dressed in black and depicted in flattering
fashion, their features idealised, their skins wondrously smooth,
their complexions soft and pinky. A carpet, in the Wilton style, with
a complicated pattern of roses mingling with stars, concealed the
flooring; while in front of the bed was a fluffy mat, made out of long
pieces of curly wool, a work of patience at which Lisa herself had
toiled while seated behind her counter. But the most striking object
of all in the midst of this array of new furniture was a great square,
thick-set secretaire, which had been re-polished in vain, for the cracks
and notches in the marble top and the scratches on the old mahogany
front, quite black with age, still showed plainly. Lisa had desired to
retain this piece of furniture, however, as Uncle Gradelle had used it
for more than forty years. It would bring them good luck, she said. It's
metal fastenings were truly something terrible, it's lock was like that
of a prison gate, and it was so heavy that it could scarcely be moved.

When Florent and Quenu entered the room they found Lisa seated at the
lowered desk of the secretaire, writing and putting down figures in a
big, round, a