For some seconds he leaned upon the iron balustrade which felt warm and damp and well-nigh human to the touch.

And he shut his eyes and drew a long breath and drank in the sexual atmosphere of the place.

Hitherto he had been utterly ignorant of it, but now it beat full in his face.
"Do come here," shouted Fauchery, who had vanished some moments ago.
"You're being asked for." At the end of the corridor was the dressing room belonging to Clarisse and Simonne.

It was a long, ill-built room under the roof with a garret ceiling and sloping walls.

The light penetrated to it from two deep-set openings high up in the wall, but at that hour of the night the dressing room was lit by flaring gas.