I was in a state of near delirium. To sense the sun upon me and the breeze at my face, tickling my hair, seemed to me an inconceivable pleasure. I stepped out, entirely immune to the chill. Each sight and sound appeared as new to me, as if this were my first glimpse of Paris. I marvelled at the sun upon the river, glittering like a thousand silver scales upon a fish. I listened to the rhythmic knocking of wooden boats against the moorings, the cry of street-sellers. I breathed in the scent of the bakers, warm bread and burned sugar, the sharp onion of the cook shops, thick coal and wood smoke, the stink of the fish market, oil and hide, ink, earth, sour wine.

How briskly I strode through the narrow, filthy streets, as if I walked upon a ribbon of silk, untroubled by the beggars, the carts and cabriolets and carriages which halted my advance, the paving stones which gave way beneath my feet. All those inconveniences which had so troubled me in this city: I felt them not at all as I searched for the sign of the Trois Pièces.

I arrived at the place by way of a dank passage, which ran with all manner of grime. It was a squalid hostelry, patronized by the lowest sort. I cautiously picked my path into a courtyard and then entered through a low doorway. All was dark. The windows were shuttered fast, and no light could be seen but that provided by two candles and a rush light burning upon a table. A skittish girl peered at me from a corner.

‘Citizen Labroux?’ I spoke with apprehension. At the mention of that name she dashed quick as a sight hound through the door beside her. I stood for a moment, quite perplexed, believing she had gone to retrieve a gentleman, but instead she returned with a lantern and beckoned me to follow her.

The room into which she brought me was darker still. Without uttering a sound, she then opened the door to the cellar and proceeded down a set of narrow, wet stone steps which I could scarcely make out through the gloom. The walls within this place were ancient and narrow. I grew reluctant as she directed me into a dripping passage so small that it could not have been more than four feet in height, and scarcely that in width. I felt water beneath my feet and began to slow my pace.

‘Where do you take me?’ My voice reverberated.