- end_line
- 2177
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2114
- text
- CHAPTER IX.
ISRAEL IS INITIATED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF LODGING-HOUSES IN THE LATIN
QUARTER.
Closing the door upon himself, Israel advanced to the middle of the
chamber, and looked curiously round him.
A dark tessellated floor, but without a rug; two mahogany chairs, with
embroidered seats, rather the worse for wear; one mahogany bed, with a
gay but tarnished counterpane; a marble wash-stand, cracked, with a
china vessel of water, minus the handle. The apartment was very large;
this part of the house, which was a very extensive one, embracing the
four sides of a quadrangle, having, in a former age, been the hotel of
a nobleman. The magnitude of the chamber made its stinted furniture
look meagre enough.
But in Israel’s eyes, the marble mantel (a comparatively recent
addition) and its appurtenances, not only redeemed the rest, but looked
quite magnificent and hospitable in the extreme. Because, in the first
place, the mantel was graced with an enormous old-fashioned square
mirror, of heavy plate glass, set fast, like a tablet, into the wall.
And in this mirror was genially reflected the following delicate
articles:—first, two boquets of flowers inserted in pretty vases of
porcelain; second, one cake of white soap; third, one cake of
rose-colored soap (both cakes very fragrant); fourth, one wax candle;
fifth, one china tinder-box; sixth, one bottle of Eau de Cologne;
seventh, one paper of loaf sugar, nicely broken into sugar-bowl size;
eighth, one silver teaspoon; ninth, one glass tumbler; tenth, one glass
decanter of cool pure water; eleventh, one sealed bottle containing a
richly hued liquid, and marked “Otard.”
“I wonder now what O-t-a-r-d is?” soliloquised Israel, slowly spelling
the word. “I have a good mind to step in and ask Dr. Franklin. He knows
everything. Let me smell it. No, it’s sealed; smell is locked in. Those
are pretty flowers. Let’s smell them: no smell again. Ah, I see—sort of
flowers in women’s bonnets—sort of calico flowers. Beautiful soap. This
smells anyhow—regular soap-roses—a white rose and a red one. That
long-necked bottle there looks like a crane. I wonder what’s in that?
Hallo! E-a-u—d-e—C-o-l-o-g-n-e. I wonder if Dr. Franklin understands
that? It looks like his white wine. This is nice sugar. Let’s taste.
Yes, this is very nice sugar, sweet as—yes, it’s sweet as sugar; better
than maple sugar, such as they make at home. But I’m crunching it too
loud, the Doctor will hear me. But here’s a teaspoon. What’s this for?
There’s no tea, nor tea-cup; but here’s a tumbler, and here’s drinking
water. Let me see. Seems to me, putting this and that and the other
thing together, it’s a sort of alphabet that spells something. Spoon,
tumbler, water, sugar,—brandy—that’s it. O-t-a-r-d is brandy. Who put
these things here? What does it all mean? Don’t put sugar here for
show, don’t put a spoon here for ornament, nor a jug of water. There is
only one meaning to it, and that is a very polite invitation from some
invisible person to help myself, if I like, to a glass of brandy and
sugar, and if I don’t like, let it alone. That’s my reading. I have a
good mind to ask Doctor Franklin about it, though, for there’s just a
chance I may be mistaken, and these things here be some other person’s
private property, not at all meant for me to help myself from. Cologne,
what’s that—never mind. Soap: soap’s to wash with. I want to use soap,
anyway. Let me see—no, there’s no soap on the wash-stand. I see, soap
is not given gratis here in Paris, to boarders. But if you want it,
take it from the marble, and it will be charged in the bill. If you
don’t want it let it alone, and no charge. Well, that’s fair, anyway.
But then to a man who could not afford to use soap, such beautiful
cakes as these lying before his eyes all the time, would be a strong
temptation. And now that I think of it, the O-t-a-r-d looks rather
- title
- Chunk 1