“If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause. Something about the girl had suggested an idea. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband. Capes kept obstinately stiff, and spoke between his teeth. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice.
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