n two filthy drain-pipes. So here were
flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; here,
a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all the
miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by
special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought
out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color,
peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted
the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window-casings,
and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old woman, and a
heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, announced the
coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened the door and
came out upon the landing, looked up, and said:--

"Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his
brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur."

Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled together,
cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little earthenware
dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a wooden clock,
bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all these things
mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most grotesque
effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking a few old
numbers of the "Constitutionel."

Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the widow's
invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:--

"Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself."

Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it were
not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with the old
woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended cackling from
a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came to a resolution,
and followed Ida's mother into the inner room, whither they were
accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise mute, who jumped
upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of semi-pauperism
when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her fire-pot contained, or
rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay apart: the grating was
on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The mantel-shelf, adorned with
a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares of glass held together with
blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, and tools used in the making
of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined everything in the room with a
curio