Before I really understood, that is, what the closed door concealed....
XV
Beyond the door that was open stretched a passageway, and at the end of the passageway came another door. Once we were through the latter, the spotlight of my escort fell upon a flight of stairs, six steps high, as I counted. I noted also that the treads were of the same red square tiles as the floor of the reception hall. Only the nosings were of wood, a wood much worn from long service. At the top of the steps my guide opened one last door.
I now found myself in a very dark room, so dark, indeed, that I paused just inside the threshold from fear of colliding with some piece of furniture. The man, however, drew aside the top of his lantern and from the flame within it began to light the three wicks of a massive iron candlestick, a sort of tripod fashioned to represent three lances supporting one another.
The room brightened. I noted that it contained this candelabrum, one chair, and one bed, the latter simple, home-made articles such as a peasant might improvise for himself.
“And I wish you a good night, Monsieur,” said my guide, with a bow. “Please sleep quite at your ease. I shall have the honor of waking you in time, myself.”
“At sunrise?” said I.
“At sunrise,” he answered, “or perhaps ... perhaps a moment or two before sunrise....”