However, the courtyard inspired rather melancholy thoughts.

Opposite her, on the sunny side, she would see that same window she had dreamed about long ago where the spring brought scarlet vines.

Her own room was on the shady side where pots of mignonette died within a week.

Oh, this wasn't at all the sort of life she had dreamed of.

She had to wallow in filth instead of having flowers all about her.
On leaning out one day, Gervaise experienced a peculiar sensation: she fancied she beheld herself down below, near the concierge's room under the porch, her nose in the air, and examining the house for the first time; and this leap thirteen years backwards caused her heart to throb.
The courtyard was a little dingier and the walls more stained, otherwise it hadn't changed much.