I mentioned that I had parents also, at that moment, lost in the Catacombs, but he did not apologize.
The midnight of the place, as we walked on, seemed to deepen, and its silence to grow more profound.

The tombs passed us in solemn grey ranges, one above the other--the long tombs of the grown-up people, and the shorter ones of the children, and the very little ones of the babies.

The air held a concentrated dolor of funerals sixteen centuries old, and the four dim stone walls seemed to have crept closer together.
"I think I will take your arm, Mr.Dod," said Mrs.Portheris, and "I think I will take your other arm, Mr.Dod," said I.
"Thank you," replied Dicky, "I should be glad of both of yours," which may look ambiguous now, but we quite understood it at the time.

It made rather uncomfortable walking in places, but against that overwhelming majority of the dead it was comforting to feel ourselves a living unit.
We stumbled on, taking only the most obvious turnings, and presently the passage widened into another little square chamber.

"More bishops!" groaned Dicky, holding up his candle.
"Perhaps," I replied triumphantly, "but Jonah, anyway," and I pointed him out on the wall, in two shades of brown, a good deal faded, being precipitated into the jaws of a green whale with paws and horns and a smile, also a curled body and a three-forked tail.