MADAME DE GENLIS.
67
Arsenal; and hundreds and hundreds of people inhabit it who are probably perfect strangers to Madame de Genlis. At the doors where our coachman enquired, some answered that they knew nothing of her; some that she lived in the Faubourg St. Germain; others believed that she might be at Passy; others had heard that she had apartments given to her by the Government somewhere in the Arsenal, but could not tell where. While the coachman thus begged his way, we, anxiously looking out at him from the middle of the great square where we were left, listened for the answers that were given, and which often from the distance escaped our ears. At last a door pretty near to us opened, and our coachman's head and hat were illuminated by the candle held by the person who opened the door; and as the two figures parted from each other, we could distinctly see the expression of the countenances and their lips move. The result of this parley was successful: we were directed to the house where Madame de Genlis lived, and thought all difficulties ended. No such thing: her apartments were still to be sought for. We saw before us a large, crooked, ruinous stone staircase, lighted by a single bit of candle hanging in a vile tin lantern, in an angle of the bare wall at the turn of the staircase—only just light enough to see that the walls wore bare and old, and the stairs immoderately dirty. There were no signs of the place being inhabited except this lamp, which could not have been lighted without hands. I stood still in melancholy astonishment, while my father groped his way into a kind of porter's lodge or den at the foot of the stairs, where he found a man who was porter to various people who inhabited this house. You know the Parisian houses are inhabited by hordes of different people, and the stairs are in fact streets, and dirty streets, to their dwellings. The porter, who was neither obliging nor intelligent, carelessly said that "Madame de Genlis logeait au seconde à gauche, quìl faudrait tirer sa sonnette" — he believed she was at home if she was not gone out. Up we went by ourselves, for this porter, though we were strangers, and pleaded that we were so, never offered to stir a step to guide or to light us. When we got to the second stage, we finally saw, by the light from the one candle at the first landing-place, two dirty large folding-doors, one set on the right and one on the left, and having on each a bell no larger than what you see in the small parlour of a small English inn. My father pulled one bell and waited some minutes—no answer; pulled the other bell and waited—no answer: thumped at the left door—no answer; pushed and pulled at it—could not open it; pushed open one of the right-hand folding-doors—utter darkness; went in as well as we could feel—there was no furniture. After we had been there a few seconds, we could discern the bare walls and some strange lumber in one corner. The room was a
5 *
