of the Privy Council; Monsieur de Monthulé, the daughter of Haudry, the

farmer of La Croix Saint Lenfroy; the Prince de Conti, the two beautiful

baker women of L'Ile Adam; the Duke of Buckingham, poor Pennywell, etc.

The deeds done there were such as were designated by the Roman law as

committed vi, clam, et precario--by force, in secret, and for a short

time. Once in, an occupant remained there till the master of the house

decreed his or her release. They were gilded oubliettes, savouring both

of the cloister and the harem. Their staircases twisted, turned,

ascended, and descended. A zigzag of rooms, one running into another,

led back to the starting-point. A gallery terminated in an oratory. A

confessional was grafted on to an alcove. Perhaps the architects of "the

little rooms," building for royalty and aristocracy, took as models the

ramifications of coral beds, and the openings in a sponge. The branches

became a labyrinth. Pictures turning on false panels were exits and

entrances. They were full of stage contrivances, and no

wonder--considering the dramas that were played there! The floors of

these hives reached from the cellars to the attics. Quaint madrepore

inlaying every palace, from Versailles downwards, like cells of pygmies

in dwelling-places of Titans. Passages, niches, alcoves, and secret

recesses. All sorts of holes and corners, in which was stored away the

meanness of the great.

These winding and narrow passages recalled games, blindfolded eyes,

hands feeling in the dark, suppressed laughter, blind man's buff, hide

and seek, while, at the same time, they suggested memories of the

Atrides, of the Plantagenets, of the Médicis, the brutal knights of

Eltz, of Rizzio, of Monaldeschi; of naked swords, pursuing the fugitive

742

The Man Who Laughs