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up his mind to begin. Speaking was not their strong point. The number-two man, after standing for a while with 27

his eyes lowered, began to move imperceptibly toward the door, as if he wanted to escape from a harrowing ordeal. But he bumped against a shelf and jumped back terrified by the noise of clanking saucers and cups. His acolytes rushed toward him. Thomas thought they were going to smash everything to pieces, and in fact, with their abrupt and clumsy movements, they knocked over two large vases, which shattered into pieces, spilling out all their water. They were unconcerned with this mishap. One of them triumphantly seized a cup and saucer and placed them on the table. Then they ran toward the door, yelling: "To the kitchen!" The door closed so violently that the bell jingled overhead. Thomas was glad to be free of their presence, but he wondered whether he had really taken as much advantage of this visit as he had wished. Of course, they were from down below, so they knew nothing of the house, properly speaking, but the things that went on in the basement floors were some times the most important of all. He turned to the young man. "Do you know them?" he said. Now his companion was sitting in the armchair and was trying to copy the gestures and the attitude of his neighbor. He shook his head in horror. "So you really don't know them?" he asked again. But he could elicit no sign of assent. He tried to picture how the lower floors were arranged, if they were easily accessible, if they kept a large staff busy, and many other things besides. All this was not easy to imagine. Thomas was drawn out of his thoughts by the very quiet sounds of the bells. First he heard one in the distance, and it was as if it had never be fore struck a human ear. He heard a second one, which was no less calm. For the first time he felt at peace; perhaps he would have no rest, but his journey would have an end. One after the other, the bells were heard to sound, and their sound spread through the air in such a way that the air too was a bell softly ringing. Soon there were too many at once; the call came from every floor; it made one wonder just how high the house could rise and why no one was answering. After a few moments, there were footsteps echoing in the hallway. Someone opened a door. There was the beginning of a conversation, and Thomas bent his ear, but without being able to catch anything, for the walls were very thick. Other doors were opened or closed. The boards creaked under the footsteps. The noise of a service elevator shook the wall, causing it to rumble as if it were going to give way. Thomas looked with surprise at the part of the room where the noise was coming 28
    through, which the shaking lamps lit up in an irregular pattern. He looked along the wall for something new, and then his gaze fell again on the por trait. It made him feel impatient. Was there, then, nothing else to look at here? Besides, it was not even a portrait. It was a narrow opening covered by a slab of mica that let a little daylight seep through. Without losing a moment, he rose to go to the window. He had to make the young man get up too. The latter, clinging to the armchair in which he was comfortably seated, pointed excitedly at the chain; one of its links had slipped under the leg of the table and held them both back. Thomas had to push the table back with violence; the cup turned over on the saucer, and its edge was badly chipped. Then he dragged his companion to the bed and kneeled down on the mattress to make him climb up too. It was not easy. The young man sank into despair and began to bellow outright. "Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?" shouted Thomas. "Are you afraid of something?" What was there to be afraid of? He glanced up at the skylight, which was now right next to him, and without a care for the savage resistance of his companion, he climbed up onto the second ledge. His right leg and right arm were left hanging in the other