CHAPTER XVI
THE PADRONE
ALTHOUGH I knew later how beautiful was the city of Paris, the slums, being my first glimpse, created anything but a favorable impression.
Vitalis, who seemed to know his way, pushed through the groups of people who obstructed his passage along the narrow street we had just turned down.
"Mind, you don't lose me," cautioned Vitalis.
But his warning was not necessary, for I trod upon his heels, and to be more sure of him I held a corner of his coat in my hand.
We crossed a big courtyard to a dirty, dismal house where surely the sun had never penetrated. It was the worst looking place I had seen so far.
"Is Garofoli in?" asked Vitalis of a man who, by the light from a lantern, was hanging rags against the door.
"I don't know; go up and see for yourself," he growled; "the door's at the top of the stairs; it faces you."
"Garofoli is the padrone, Remi, I told you about," said Vitalis; "this is where he lives."
The street, the house, the staircase was not in
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