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"Everyone here is free," retorted the young man. These replies made Thomas ill at ease. There was something pedantic in this way of understanding things. At one moment the young man seemed overwhelmed at being a captive, then he displayed great pride and de rived his glory precisely from what had dragged him down. Despite his disgust, Thomas would have liked to satisfy his hunger for these words. They seemed to him so distant, so ungraspable; they were so foreign to any and every truth and at the same time so imperious. What was he doing here anyway? He thought again of the portrait and said to himself that the moment had come to lose heart. The light had gone out. The silence was impenetrable. And he was more alone than if he had never had a compan ion. He forced himself out of the embrace that had held him prisoner up to now and stretched out on the bed again. Another ring now encircled his left ankle, a finely wrought ring that was attached by a larger one to the young man's leg. Because of this hindrance his position was still uncom fortable, but he hardly noticed. He listened impatiently as his companion tried to revive the conversation by giving a report on the house. Should he pay any attention? At other times he would not have missed a word. But his experience had taught him already that the inhabitants of the build ing did not always tell the truth and that even when they were not lying, their words were rarely of any use. Besides, he could not have understood these words; they were spoken in a tone that stripped them of all sense; no meaning could correspond to an expression of such great sadness; for them to carry so much despair, they had to be deprived completely of the unburdened clarity contained in an intelligible word. What painful words! What a speech of endless distress! Thomas listened for a moment to the word bedroom and the word reason, then he struck his companion to make him shut up. "What a bunch of chatter!" he said. "This has gone on long enough." He threw a blanket over his head and was finally able to rest. The next morning when he awoke from a heavy sleep, he saw that the lamps were burning. Even if he had not been disturbed, he would not have slept for much longer, since for him there was no more rest to be had. He heard a light knocking at the door. "Let's go in," said someone in the hall way. The door opened violently, and in a single movement, three men tried to work their way in while fighting over space. Thomas saw them strike 24

each other, half seriously and half in jest, without being able to under stand if they were in a hurry to enter or if they were afraid of crossing the threshold. Finally they came to an agreement and slid into the room arm in arm. "So you're the ones who were supposed to come," said Thomas, after taking a look at them. They resembled each other very closely, though they had done every thing they could to distinguish themselves. They all wore a number in the buttonholes of their jackets, and as if that were not enough, there was on each of their sleeves a thin white band with several words written on it. Thomas would have liked to decipher the inscription, but they never ceased to move around in a display of feverish activity. Hardly were they over the threshold when they let out a great cry, at once sharp and deep, and threw themselves on his companion, who was just then beginning to throw the covers off. "Alright now, hands off!" they shouted. A harsh punishment was to be expected, but as soon as they saw how the young man looked, they burst into hearty laughter and began to gesticu late hilariously, pointing out to each other his face still puffy with sleep. Thomas did hot take the scene lightly. The physiognomy of the three new comers did not seem to him to be commensurate with these comic games. Their miniscule and piercing eyes turned on everything with an air of confrontation, and the insistence of their gaze, no matter what it fastened on, gave rise to suspicion, then to error. But neither was it a relief to es cape from this gaze. Thomas could not long tolerate remaining aloof. He silently watched the three men who were dressed as maitres d'h6tel, and seeing that they were not concerned with him, he reminded them that he was there: ''I'm the new tenant," he declared. "Are you part of the staff?" He had spoken very loudly, and when they heard him, they took a sud den step back. They exchanged looks and seemed not to know what to do, but it was an indecision that might just as well have been related to the meaning of the words spoken as to the response they were about to give. "The house?" they said in concert. "These may be people from the basement," thought Thomas. All three of them reflected for a few moments, their eyes half closed as if they were waiting for words that would be particularly difficult to understand. But then, after their interlocutor had said nothing more, they seemed to for25

get his presence altogether, imperceptibly taking on again, although with a little more restraint, their insouciant and jovial demeanor. Thomas jumped to the bottom edge of the bed. Because of his compan ion, he was forced to bend down a little, but he tried nevertheless to stare fixedly at the three who had filed in one behind the other with the puerile, and no doubt ironic, desire to avoid exposing themselves to the view of the stranger. So it was the first one he saw almost the whole time, although the two others, slipping out of the line, showed themselves occasionally in a brief flash. He would have liked to consider them one at a time in order to see who they were. The one he could see wore an elegant but oversized jacket, and he slid his hands into its folds to show its defects. The other two seemed to be dressed in a much coarser material. Thomas stretched out his hand to grab one of the armchairs. He was immediately surrounded by the three maitres d'h6tel, who jostled one another as they seized the chair and placed it at his disposal and then grabbed his companion, whom they pushed along with kicks and blows. Thomas found himself seated rather comfortably, but the young man had caught one leg in the arm of the other chair and could only keep his balance by supporting himself with one hand on the floor. He began to moan in pain. "That's enough," said Thomas. "We have to talk now." The other men intervened as well. All they wanted was to reduce the prisoner to silence, but with their spastic gestures, they hit him so roughly that the moaning began again in earnest. The noise was unbearable. "Make him shut up!" shouted Thomas. He was so close to the captive that this moaning voice seemed to be coming from his own breast, and it was difficult not to give in to the desire to lament for himself as well. One of the three men cautiously opened his jacket a little. He pulled out a handkerchief and folded it twice; then after looking inquiringly at his comrades, he fell upon the young man, threaten ing to gag him. "What a silly idea," thought Thomas. "That won't fix any thing." He shook his head but was unable completely to prevent the plan from being carried out, for the handkerchief fell to the floor, and the maitre d'h6tel finally placed his hand over the mouth of the bellowing wretch. The two others came closer, and for the first time Thomas saw them distinctly. He wondered how he could ever have compared them to this one who was now so close to him. They were much older; their hair was almost gray. Nor did they have the same sort of look on their faces, although wherever they looked, they too gave rise to an unpleasant sensation. 26

((I entered this house inadvertently," Thomas said to them. ((I was passing by on the street outside when someone made a sign to me; I only wanted to stay for a moment. But now I'm in a predicament, for I don't know any one, and no one is expecting me." He noticed that the two men listened attentively. This was already a comfort. ((My situation," he continued, ((has not yet been officially defined. To be a tenant would not seem to me to be a bad thing, but would I be admitted as such? Would I be able to fulfill the requirements? Would I have any guarantees? I arrived only a short time ago, but I have seen enough to make me fear entering into anything with out due consideration." He addressed a cautious glance at his listeners, who nodded their heads. ((I could also try to return to the outside. Out side there are difficulties, and it is not always pleasant to go by foot. But at least one knows where one is going. Have you been assigned to take me somewhere?" The two men looked at each other as if they wanted to pre pare a response in common, but they remained silent. ((I understand," said Thomas, who had hoped for an explanation. ((You cannot answer me. My question is not one that should be addressed to you. From now on I will wait until I am questioned." He fell silent; his words were so futile that he had to wonder whether they had really been spoken at all. Nevertheless, the two men were still standing motionless before him. ((Are they not here to serve me?" he thought, and he could not help shouting: ((Well who are you anyway?" They responded together by holding out their arms, which were encircled byan inscription in Gothic letters. It was a sort of motto. This time Thomas was able to decipher it. I serve alone. The third of the men, seeing that his comrades were making themselves known, did not want to be forgotten, so while maintaining his hold on the prisoner, whose face he hid with his arm, he offered his inscription to be read. It was the same, but instead of being embroidered, it was written carelessly in ink on a white band. ((How can you be of any service?" asked Thomas. ((Service?" they replied in a single voice. One ofthem took from his pocket a small notepad, which he opened to a random page. He waited with a pencil at the ready. ((Now it's time for the interrogation," thought Thomas. It was a relief; now he had only to submit to the will of others. However, there was a long pause before one of them made up his mind to begin. Speaking was not their strong point. The number-two man, after standing for a while with 27

his eyes lowered, began to move imperceptibly toward the door, as if he wanted to escape from a harrowing ordeal. But he bumped against a shelf and jumped back terrified by the noise of clanking saucers and cups. His acolytes rushed toward him. Thomas thought they were going to smash everything to pieces, and in fact, with their abrupt and clumsy movements, they knocked over two large vases, which shattered into pieces, spilling out all their water. They were unconcerned with this mishap. One of them triumphantly seized a cup and saucer and placed them on the table. Then they ran toward the door, yelling: "To the kitchen!" The door closed so violently that the bell jingled overhead. Thomas was glad to be free of their presence, but he wondered whether he had really taken as much advantage of this visit as he had wished. Of course, they were from down below, so they knew nothing of the house, properly speaking, but the things that went on in the basement floors were some times the most important of all. He turned to the young man. "Do you know them?" he said. Now his companion was sitting in the armchair and was trying to copy the gestures and the attitude of his neighbor. He shook his head in horror. "So you really don't know them?" he asked again. But he could elicit no sign of assent. He tried to picture how the lower floors were arranged, if they were easily accessible, if they kept a large staff busy, and many other things besides. All this was not easy to imagine. Thomas was drawn out of his thoughts by the very quiet sounds of the bells. First he heard one in the distance, and it was as if it had never be fore struck a human ear. He heard a second one, which was no less calm. For the first time he felt at peace; perhaps he would have no rest, but his journey would have an end. One after the other, the bells were heard to sound, and their sound spread through the air in such a way that the air too was a bell softly ringing. Soon there were too many at once; the call came from every floor; it made one wonder just how high the house could rise and why no one was answering. After a few moments, there were footsteps echoing in the hallway. Someone opened a door. There was the beginning of a conversation, and Thomas bent his ear, but without being able to catch anything, for the walls were very thick. Other doors were opened or closed. The boards creaked under the footsteps. The noise of a service elevator shook the wall, causing it to rumble as if it were going to give way. Thomas looked with surprise at the part of the room where the noise was coming 28

through, which the shaking lamps lit up in an irregular pattern. He looked along the wall for something new, and then his gaze fell again on the por trait. It made him feel impatient. Was there, then, nothing else to look at here? Besides, it was not even a portrait. It was a narrow opening covered by a slab of mica that let a little daylight seep through. Without losing a moment, he rose to go to the window. He had to make the young man get up too. The latter, clinging to the armchair in which he was comfortably seated, pointed excitedly at the chain; one of its links had slipped under the leg of the table and held them both back. Thomas had to push the table back with violence; the cup turned over on the saucer, and its edge was badly chipped. Then he dragged his companion to the bed and kneeled down on the mattress to make him climb up too. It was not easy. The young man sank into despair and began to bellow outright. "Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?" shouted Thomas. "Are you afraid of something?" What was there to be afraid of? He glanced up at the skylight, which was now right next to him, and without a care for the savage resistance of his companion, he climbed up onto the second ledge. His right leg and right arm were left hanging in the other direction. But despite this uncom fortable position, he did not feel the burdensome attachments; he felt only the taut movement that allowed him to advance as if he were free from all constraints. The prisoner finally followed him. He heard the bed creak ing under the tremendous weight and had the impression that the springs were snapping and standing on end with a loud crashing sound. For a few seconds it made a deafening noise. The mattress was vigorously protest ing. This horrible racket was a far cry from the silent repose Thomas had found in the bed. "What are you up to now?" he shouted. He turned around immediately and saw the damage. Almost all of the springs had cut through the stuffing, as if suddenly the mattress were one that had been worn out by long use and ready to cave in at the first touch. The iron hoops shone in the light. Certain pieces of steel, brilliant and polished, had passed through the sheets like knives, others followed the outline of the mattress cover and were still hidden in the stuffing. Thomas looked with consternation at the remains of this ingenious machinery that, for him, had provided such a good rest. He noticed in the gaping hole of the bed an apparatus with pieces that seemed to spin endlessly over and 29