Although we were
in a miserable part of the city I had never seen anything more
luxurious. There were gilt framed mirrors everywhere, glass chandeliers
and a magnificent counter that shone like silver. Yet the people who
filled this place were filthy and in rags. Our guide gulped down a drink
standing before the beautiful counter, then asked the man who had served
him if he could direct him to the place he wanted to find. Evidently he
got the information he required for he hurried out again through the
swing-doors, we following close on his heels. The streets through which
we walked now were even narrower and from one house across to another
were swung wash lines from which dirty rags were hanging. The women who
sat in their doorways were pale and their matted fair hair hung loose
over their shoulders. The children were almost naked and the few clothes
that they did wear were but rags. In the alley were some pigs wallowing
in the stagnant water from which a fetid odor arose. Our guide stopped.
Evidently he had lost his way. But at this moment a policeman appeared.
The clerk spoke to him and the officer told him he would show him the
way.... We followed the policeman down more narrow streets. At last we
stopped at a yard in the middle of which was a little pond.

"This is Red Lion Court," said the officer.

Why were we stopping there? Could it be possible that my parents lived
in this place? The policeman knocked at the door of a wooden hut and our
guide thanked him. So we had arrived. Mattia took my hand and gently
pressed it. I pressed his. We understood one another. I was as in a
dream when the door was opened and we found ourselves in a room with a
big fire burning in the grate.

Before the fire in a large cane chair sat an old man with a white beard,
and his head covered with a black skull cap. At a table sat a man of
about forty and a woman about six years his junior. She must have been
very pretty once but now her eyes had a glassy stare and her manners
were listless. Then there were four children--two boys and two
girls--all very fair like their mother. The eldest boy was about eleven,
the youngest girl, scarcely three. I did not know what the clerk was
saying to the man, I only caught the name "Driscoll," my name, so the
lawyer had said. All eyes were turned on Mattia and me, only the baby
girl paid attention to Capi.

"Which one is Remi?" asked the man in French.

"I am," I said, taking a step forward.