My affection for bibelots was awakened in that city of antiquaries.  I went from shop to shop crossing, in two strides, the four plank rotten bridges thrown over the nauseous current of the Eau de Robec.

Heaven protect me!  What a shock!  One of my most beautiful wardrobes was suddenly descried by me, at the end of a vault, which was crowded with articles of every description and which seemed to be the entrance to some catacombs of a cemetery of ancient furniture.  I approached my wardrobe, trembling in every limb, trembling to such an extent that I dare not touch it.  I put forth my hand, I hesitated.  It was indeed my wardrobe, nevertheless; a unique wardrobe of the time of Louis XIII., recognizable by anyone who had only seen it once.  Casting my eyes suddenly a little farther, towards the more somber depths of the gallery, I perceived three of my tapestry covered chairs; and farther on still, my two Henry II. tables, such rare treasures that people came all the way from Paris to see them.

Think! only think in what a state of mind I now was!  I advanced, haltingly, quivering with emotion, but I advanced, for I am brave, I advanced like a knight of the dark ages.

I found, at every step, something that belonged to me; my brushes, my books, my tables, my silks, my arms, everything, except the bureau full of my letters, and that I could not discover.

I walked on, descending to the dark galleries, in order to ascend next to the floors above.  I was alone, I called out, nobody answered, I was alone; there was no one in that house—­a house as vast and tortuous as a labyrinth.

Night came on, and I was compelled to sit down in the darkness on one of my own chairs, for I had no desire to go away.  From time to time I shouted, “Hullo, hullo, somebody.”

I had sat there, certainly, for more than an hour, when I heard steps, steps soft and slow, I knew not where, I was unable to locate them, but bracing myself up, I called out anew, whereupon I perceived a glimmer of light in the next chamber.

“Who is there?” said a voice.

“A buyer,” I responded.

“It is too late to enter thus into a shop.”

“I have been waiting for you for more than an hour,” I answered.

“You can come back to-morrow.”

“To-morrow I must quit Rouen.”

I dared not advance, and he did not come to me.  I saw always the glimmer of his light, which was shining on a tapestry on which were two angels flying over the dead on a field of battle.  It belonged to me also.  I said: 

“Well, come here.”

“I am at your service,” he answered.

I got up and went towards him.

Standing in the center of a large room was a little man, very short and very fat, phenomenally fat, a hideous phenomenon.

He had a singular beard, straggling hair, white and yellow, and not a hair on his head.  Not a hair!