It
cannot look more lovely to a blind man newly restored to sight,
than to a traveller who sees it, calmly and majestically, treading
down the darkness of that Infernal Well.
CHAPTER III--AVIGNON TO GENOA
Goblin, having shown les oubliettes, felt that her great coup was
struck. She let the door fall with a crash, and stood upon it with
her arms a-kimbo, sniffing prodigiously.
When we left the place, I accompanied her into her house, under the
outer gateway of the fortress, to buy a little history of the
building. Her cabaret, a dark, low room, lighted by small windows,
sunk in the thick wall--in the softened light, and with its forge-
like chimney; its little counter by the door, with bottles, jars,
and glasses on it; its household implements and scraps of dress
against the wall; and a sober-looking woman (she must have a
congenial life of it, with Goblin,) knitting at the door--looked
exactly like a picture by OSTADE.
I walked round the building on the outside, in a sort of dream, and
yet with the delightful sense of having awakened from it, of which
the light, down in the vaults, had given me the assurance. The
immense thickness and giddy height of the walls, the enormous
strength of the massive towers, the great extent of the building,
its gigantic proportions, frowning aspect, and barbarous
irregularity, awaken awe and wonder.
