"Bravissimo, you improve; you will make a courtier--but mum now
about my projects. We must suppress our dignities here. We are at
the entrance of our hell!"
We had reached the door of a low habitation in a secluded street.
The house was of wood--an ordinary hovel of two stories. A cluster
of similar fabrics surrounded it, most of which I afterward
discovered--though this fact could not be conjectured by an observer
from the street--were connected by blind alleys, inner courts, and
chambers and passages running along the ground floors. We stopped
an instant, Kingsley having his hand upon the little iron knocker,
a single black ring, that worked against an ordinary iron knob.
"Before I knock," said he, in a whisper, "before I knock, Clifford,
let me say that if you have any reluctance--"
"None! none! knock!"
"You will meet with some dirty rascals, and you must not only
meet them with seeming civility, but as if you shared in their
tastes--sought the same objects only--the getting of money--the only
object which alone is clearly comprehensible by their understanding."
"Go ahead! I will see you through."
"A word more! Get yourself in play at a different table from me.
You will find rogues enough around, ready to relieve you of your
Mexicans. Leave me to my particular enemy; you will soon see whose
shield I touch--but keep an occasional eye upon us; and all that
I ask farther at your hands, should you see us by the ears, is to
keep other fingers from taking hold of mine."
A heavy stroke of the knocker, followed by three light ones and a
second heavy stroke, produced us an answer from within. The door
unclosed, and by the light of a dim lamp, I discovered before me,
as a sort of warden, a little yellow, weather-beaten, skin-dried
Frenchman, whom I had frequently before seen at a fruit-shop in
another part of the city. He looked at me, however, without any
sign of recognition--with a blank, dull, indifferent countenance;
motioned us forward in silence, and reclosing the door, sunk into
a chair immediately behind it. I followed my companion through a
passage which was unfathomably dark, up a flight of stairs, which
led us into a sort of refreshment room. Tables were spread, with
decanters, glasses, and tumblers upon them, that appeared to be in
continual use. In a recess, stood that evil convenience of most
American establishments, whether on land or sea, a liquor bar;
its shelves crowded with bottles, all of which seemed amply full,
and ready to complete the overthrow of the victim, which the other
appliances of such a dwelling must already have actively begun.
"Here you may take in the Dutch courage, Clifford, should you lack
the native. This, I know, is not the case with you, and yet the
novelty of one's situation frequently overcomes a sensitive mind
like fear. Perhaps a julep may be of use."