And so I did. The room was large and lofty, but shabby and dismal. There was a tall four-post bed, with its foot beside the window, hung with dark-green curtains, of some plush or velvet texture, that looked like a dusty pall. The remaining furniture was scant and old, and a ravelled square of threadbare carpet covered a patch of floor at the bedside. The room was grim and large, and had a cold, vault-like atmosphere, as if long uninhabited; but there were cinders in the grate and under it. The imperfect light of our mutton-fat candle made all this look still more comfortless. Madame placed the candle on the chimneypiece, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. 'I always do so in '_otel_' said she, with a wink at me. And, then with a long 'ha!' expressive of fatigue and relief, she threw herself into a chair. 'So 'ere we are at last!' said she; 'I'm glad. _There's_ your bed, Maud. _Mine_ is in the dressing-room.' She took the candle, and I went in with her. A shabby press bed, a chair, and table were all its furniture; it was rather a closet than a dressing-room, and had no door except that through which we had entered. So we returned, and very tired, wondering, I sat down on the side of my bed and yawned. 'I hope they will call us in time for the packet,' I said. 'Oh yes, they never fail,' she answered, looking steadfastly on her box, which she was diligently uncording. Uninviting as was my bed, I was longing to lie down in it; and having made those ablutions which our journey rendered necessary, I at length lay down, having first religiously stuck my talismanic pin, with the head of sealing-wax, into the bolster. Nothing escaped the restless eye of Madame. 'Wat is that, dear cheaile?' she enquired, drawing near and scrutinising the head of the gipsy charm, which showed like a little ladybird newly lighted on the sheet. 'Nothing--a charm--folly. Pray, Madame, allow me to go to sleep.' So, with another look and a little twiddle between her finger and thumb, she seemed satisfied; but, unhappily for me, she did not seem at all sleepy. She busied herself in unpacking and displaying over the back of the chair a whole series of London purchases--silk dresses, a shawl, a sort of lace demi-coiffure then in vogue, and a variety of other articles. The vainest and most slammakin of women--the merest slut at home, a milliner's lay figure out of doors--she had one square foot of looking-glass upon the chimneypiece, and therein tried effects, and conjured up grotesque simpers upon her sinister and weary face. I knew that the sure way to prolong this worry was to express my uneasiness under it, so I bore it as quietly as I could; and at last fell fast asleep with the gaunt image of Madame, with a festoon of grey silk with a cerise stripe, pinched up in her finger and thumb, and smiling over her shoulder across it into the little shaving-glass that stood on the chimney.