und, from a nail behind the green door of the entry. She
unlocked a heavy, white-washed door into a dusty, dim vestibule, and
then proceeded to lock me in, pointing to another door at the farther
end, saying, as she returned to her savory stew pot on the iron stove,
"Montez, Montez, vous trouverez l'escalier." The heavy door swung to by
a weight on a cord, and I was at the bottom step of the winding stairway
of the tower. For a few steps upward the way was in darkness, up the
narrow stone steps, clinging to a waxy, slippery rope attached to the
wall, which was grimy with dust, the steps sloping worn and uneven.
Quaint, gloomy openings in the wall revealed themselves from time to
time as I toiled upwards, openings into deep gulfs of mysterious gloom,
spanned at times by huge oaken beams. Here and there at dim landings,
lighted by narrow Gothic slits in the walls, were blackened, low
doorways heavily bolted and studded with iron nails. The narrow slits of
windows served only to let in dim, dusty beams of violet light. Through
one dark slit in the wall I caught sight of the huge bulk of a bronze
bell, green with the precious patina of age, and I fancied I heard
footsteps on the stairway that wound its way above.

It was the watchman, a great hairy, oily Fleming, clad in a red sort of
jersey, and blue patched trousers. On the back of his shock of pale,
rope-colored hair sat jauntily a diminutive cap with a glazed peak. In
the lobes of his huge ears were small gold rings.

I was glad to see him and to have his company in that place of cobwebs
and dangling hand rope. I gave him a thick black cigar which I had
bought in the market-place that morning, and struck a match from which
we both had a light. He expressed wonder at my matches, those paper
cartons common in America, but which he had never before seen. I gave
them to him, to his delight. He brought me upwards into a room crammed
with strange machinery, all cranks and levers and wires and pulleys, and
before us two great cylinders like unto a "Brobdingnagian" music box. He
drew out a stool for me and courteously bade me be seated, speaking in
French with a strong Flemish accent. He was, he said, a mechanic, whose
duty it was to care for the bells and the machinery. He had an assistant
who went on duty at six o'clock. He served watches of eight hours. There
came a "whir" from a fan above, and a tinkle from a small bell somewhere
near at hand. He said that the half hour wou