When she smiled the oak-apples of her
cheeks rose up and cut the black eyes into hoops.
"We are on a long journey, madame, to Chantilly. We are cold; can we
have coffee?"
She drew out chairs and bade them sit, then placed two tall glasses of
coffee in the ring of light from the lamp, sugar melting in a sandy heap
at the bottom of each.
"What an odd shape your house is!" said Julien, looking round him.
"It's very old, like me. And the light is poor. You have to know it to
get used to it," she replied.
"You've only that one window?" He stared up the funnel to where he
could see the grey underside of the cone of snow.
"But I can make that one better than it is; and then the lady can see
herself in this little glass!" The old woman moved to the side of the
wall where a rope hung down. "_Elle a raison_; since she has a gentleman
with her! I was the same--and even not so long ago!"
She put up her thin arm and gave the rope a long pull. She must have
been strong, for the skylight and all its burden opened on a hinge, and
the snow could be seen sliding from it, could be heard in a heavy body
rumbling on the roof. She closed the skylight, and now a wan light
filtered down the funnel and turned their faces green. It was like life
at the bottom of a well, and they felt as though the level of the earth
was far above their heads, and its weighty walls pressing against
their sides.
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