They ascended the smooth, well-worn steps, and on a landing where a brass lamp burnt she pointed them to a door.
“I will go out now—not for long,” she said, excusing herself. “My mother is below and our servant, and there are other lodgers.”
She smiled, and with a little courtesy pattered down the stairs.
William pushed open the door.
It led into a chamber lined with cedar, and empty save for a few chairs.
Directly opposite, a second door stood open upon a bedroom full of candlelight.
The Prince went forward, but Florent hung back and remained in the unlit shadows.
William stepped breathlessly into the light. He found a lofty apartment, illumined by a row of candles set on a black bureau.
The windows were flung wide on to the summer night, the canal and the lime trees, the stars, and a great moon that hung low above the silent houses.