Pieces of board were nailed over the defective spots in the floor, and the lines where the walls met rarely showed a right angle.
The window disappeared in the darkness.

It was in the back of the niche formed by the unusually thick walls.

During the day its small, round panes gave the old gentleman light while he guided his graving tool.
A wooden tripod supported the board on which his tools lay.

The stool, which usually stood on a wooden trestle opposite to it, now occupied a place before the table bearing the flagon of wine, and was intended for Barbara.
After the torches had ceased to burn, a single tallow candle in a wrought-iron candlestick afforded the two men light, and threatened to go out when, in the eagerness of their conversation, they forgot to use the snuffers.
Neither curtain, carpet, nor noteworthy work of art pleased the eye in this bare, strangely narrow room.

The weapons and pieces of armour of the aged champion of the faith, which hung high above the window, made no pretension to beauty.