De Batz looked round him with keen curiosity with which disgust was ready enough to mingle.
The room itself might have been a large one; it was almost impossible to judge of its size, so crammed was it with heavy and light furniture of every conceivable shape and type. There was a monumental wooden bedstead in one corner, a huge sofa covered in black horsehair in another. A large table stood in the centre of the room, and there were at least four capacious armchairs round it. There were wardrobes and cabinets, a diminutive washstand and a huge pier-glass, there were innumerable boxes and packing-cases, cane-bottomed chairs and what-nots every-where. The place looked like a depot for second-hand furniture.
In the midst of all the litter de Batz at last became conscious of two people who stood staring at him and at Heron. He saw a man before him, somewhat fleshy of build, with smooth, mouse-coloured hair brushed away from a central parting, and ending in a heavy curl above each ear; the eyes were wide open and pale in colour, the lips unusually thick and with a marked downward droop. Close beside him stood a youngish-looking woman, whose unwieldy bulk, however, and pallid skin revealed the sedentary life and the ravages of ill-health.
Both appeared to regard Heron with a certain amount of awe, and de Batz with a vast measure of curiosity.
Suddenly the woman stood aside, and in the far corner of the room there was displayed to the Gascon Royalist’s cold, calculating gaze the pathetic figure of the uncrowned King of France.
“How is it Capet is not yet in bed?” queried Heron as soon as he caught sight of the child.
“He wouldn’t say his prayers this evening,” replied Simon with a coarse laugh, “and wouldn’t drink his medicine. Bah!” he added with a snarl, “this is a place for dogs and not for human folk.”
“If you are not satisfied, mon vieux,” retorted Heron curtly, “you can send in your resignation when you like. There are plenty who will be glad of the place.”
The ex-cobbler gave another surly growl and expectorated on the floor in the direction where stood the child.
“Little vermin,” he said, “he is more trouble than man or woman can bear.”