All the odors and all the murmurings of the immense variety of life within the tenement came up to her in one stifling breath that flushed her face as she hazarded a worried glance down into the gulf below.
"We're not there yet," said Coupeau.

"Oh! It's quite a journey!" He had gone down a long corridor on the left.

He turned twice, the first time also to the left, the second time to the right.

The corridor still continued branching off, narrowing between walls full of crevices, with plaster peeling off, and lighted at distant intervals by a slender gas-jet; and the doors all alike, succeeded each other the same as the doors of a prison or a convent, and nearly all open, continued to display homes of misery and work, which the hot June evening filled with a reddish mist.

At length they reached a small passage in complete darkness.
"We're here," resumed the zinc-worker.