Then, when we have passed the well, by a narrow bridge that has been thrown across it, the stairs begin again, and the steep passages that almost make you run; but now, by a sharp bend, they have changed their direction.

And still we descend, descend.

Heavens! how deep down this king dwells! And at each step of our descent we feel more and more imprisoned under the sovereign mass of stone, in the centre of all this compact and silent thickness.
***** The little electric globes, placed apart like a garland, suffice now for our eyes which have forgotten the sun.

And we can distinguish around us myriad figures inviting us to solemnity and silence.

They are inscribed everywhere on the smooth, spotless walls of the colour of old ivory.
They follow one another in regular order, repeating themselves obstinately in parallel rows, as if the better to impose upon our spirit, with gestures and symbols that are eternally the same.