OnesuchindulgenceledmeinthecourseofmysecondyearintoanadventurewhichImustrelate：indeed，itistheverypointIhavebeenaimingfor，sincethatwaswhatbroughtmeinacquaintancewithJimPinkerton。IsatdownalonetodinneroneOctoberdaywhentherustyleaveswerefallingandscuttlingontheboulevard，andthemindsofimpressionablemeninclinedinaboutanequaldegreetowardssadnessandconviviality。Therestaurantwasnogreatplace，butboastedaconsiderablecellarandalongprintedlistofvintages。ThisI
　　wasperusingwiththedoublezestofamanwhoisfondofwineandaloverofbeautifulnames，whenmyeyefellneartheendofthecardonthatnotveryfamousorfamiliarbrand，Roussillon。IremembereditwasawineIhadnevertasted，orderedabottle，founditexcellent，andwhenIhaddiscussedthecontents，calledaccordingtomyhabitforafinalpint。ItappearstheydidnotkeepRoussilloninhalf-bottles。“Allright。”saidI。“Anotherbottle。”Thetablesatthiseating-houseareclosetogether；andthenextthingIcanremember，Iwasinsomewhatloudconversationwithmynearestneighbours。
　　FromtheseImusthavegraduallyextendedmyattentions；forI
　　haveaclearrecollectionofgazingaboutaroominwhicheverychairwashalfturnedroundandeveryfaceturnedsmilinglytomine。IcanevenrememberwhatIwassayingatthemoment；
　　butaftertwentyyears，theembersofshamearestillalive；andI
　　prefertogiveyourimaginationthecue，bysimplymentioningthatmymusewasthepatriotic。Ithadbeenmydesigntoadjournforcoffeeinthecompanyofsomeofthesenewfriends；
　　butIwasnosooneronthesidewalkthanIfoundmyselfunaccountablyalone。Thecircumstancescarcesurprisedmeatthetime，muchlessnow；butIwassomewhatchagrinedalittleaftertofindIhadwalkedintoakiosque。IbegantowonderifI
　　wereanytheworseformylastbottle，anddecidedtosteadymyselfwithcoffeeandbrandy。IntheCafedelaSource，whereIwentforthisrestorative，thefountainwasplaying，andwhatgreatlysurprisedmethemillandthevariousmechanicalfiguresontherockeryappearedtohavebeenfreshlyrepairedandperformedthemostenchantingantics。Thecafewasextraordinarilyhotandbright，witheverydetailofaconspicuousclearness，fromthefacesofthegueststothetypeofthenewspapersonthetables，andthewholeapartmentswangtoandfrolikeahammock，withanexhilaratingmotion。
　　ForsomewhileIwassoextremelypleasedwiththeseparticularsthatIthoughtIcouldneverbewearyofbeholdingthem：thendroppedofasuddenintoacauselesssadness；andthen，withthesameswiftnessandspontaneity，arrivedattheconclusionthatIwasdrunkandhadbettergettobed。
　　Itwasbutasteportwotomyhotel，whereIgotmylightedcandlefromtheporterandmountedthefourflightstomyownroom。AlthoughIcouldnotdenythatIwasdrunk，Iwasatthesametimelucidlyrationalandpractical。Ihadbutonepreoccupation——tobeupintimeonthemorrowformywork；
　　andwhenIobservedtheclockonmychimney-piecetohavestopped，Idecidedtogodownstairsagainandgivedirectionstotheporter。Leavingthecandleburningandmydooropen，tobeaguidetomeonmyreturn，Isetforthaccordingly。Thehousewasquitedark；butastherewereonlythethreedoorsoneachlanding，itwasimpossibletowander，andIhadnothingtodobutdescendthestairsuntilIsawtheglimmeroftheporter’snightlight。Icountedfourflights：noporter。Itwaspossible，ofcourse，thatIhadreckonedincorrectly；soIwentdownanotherandanother，andanother，stillcountingasIwent，untilIhadreachedthepreposterousfigureofnineflights。ItwasnowquiteclearthatIhadsomehowpassedtheporter’slodgewithoutremarkingit；indeed，Iwas，atthelowestfigure，fivepairsofstairsbelowthestreet，andplungedintheverybowelsoftheearth。Thatmyhotelshouldthusbefoundeduponcatacombswasadiscoveryofconsiderableinterest；andifIhadnotbeeninaframeofmindentirelybusinesslike，Imighthavecontinuedtoexploreallnightthissubterraneanempire。ButI
　　wasboundImustbeupbetimesonthenextmorning，andforthatenditwasimperativethatIshouldfindtheporter。Ifacedaboutaccordingly，andcountingwithpainfulcare，remountedtowardsthelevelofthestreet。Five，six，andsevenflightsI
　　climbed，andstilltherewasnoporter。Ibegantobewearyofthejob，andreflectingthatIwasnowclosetomyownroom，decidedIshouldgotobed。Eight，nine，ten，eleven，twelve，thirteenflightsImounted；andmyopendoorseemedtobeaswhollylosttomeastheporterandhisfloatingdip。I
　　rememberedthatthehousestoodbutsixstoriesatitshighestpoint，fromwhichitappearedonthemostmoderatecomputationIwasnowthreestorieshigherthantheroof。Myoriginalsenseofamusementwassucceededbyanotunnaturalirritation。“MyroomhasjustGOTtobehere。”saidI，andI
　　steppedtowardsthedoorwithoutspreadarms。Therewasnodoorandnowall；inplaceofeitherthereyawnedbeforemeadarkcorridor，inwhichIcontinuedtoadvanceforsometimewithoutencounteringthesmallestopposition。Andthisinahousewhoseextremeareascantilycontainedthreesmallrooms，anarrowlanding，andthestair！Thethingwasmanifestlynonsense；andyouwillscarcelybesurprisedtolearnthatInowbegantolosemytemper。AtthisjunctureI
　　perceivedafilteringoflightalongthefloor，stretchedforthmyhandwhichencounteredtheknobofadoor-handle，andwithoutfurtherceremonyenteredaroom。Ayoungladywaswithin；shewasgoingtobed，andhertoiletwasfaradvanced，ortheotherwayabout，ifyouprefer。
　　“Ihopeyouwillpardonthisintrusion。”saidI；“butmyroomisNo。12，andsomethinghasgonewrongwiththisblamedhouse。”
　　Shelookedatmeamoment；andthen，“Ifyouwillstepoutsideforamoment，Iwilltakeyouthere。”saysshe。
　　Thus，withperfectcomposureonbothsides，thematterwasarranged。Iwaitedawhileoutsideherdoor。Presentlysherejoinedme，inadressing-gown，tookmyhand，ledmeupanotherflight，whichmadethefourthabovetheleveloftheroof，andshutmeintomyownroom，wherebeingquitewearyafterthesecontraordinaryexplorationsIturnedin，andslumberedlikeachild。
　　Itellyouthethingcalmly，asitappearedtometopass；butthenextday，whenIawokeandputmemoryinthewitness-box，I
　　couldnotconcealfrommyselfthatthetalepresentedagoodmanyimprobablefeatures。Ihadnomindforthestudio，afterall，andwentinsteadtotheLuxembourggardens，there，amongthesparrowsandthestatuesandthefallingleaves，tocoolandclearmyhead。ItisagardenIhavealwaysloved。Yousitthereinapublicplaceofhistoryandfiction。BarrasandFouchehavelookedfromthesewindows。LousteauanddeBanvilleoneasrealastheotherhaverhymeduponthesebenches。Thecitytramplesbywithouttherailingstoalivelymeasure；andwithinandaboutyou，treesrustle，childrenandsparrowsuttertheirsmallcries，andthestatueslookonforever。
　　Here，then，inaseatoppositethegalleryentrance，Isettoworkontheeventsofthelastnight，todisengageifitwerepossible
　　truthfromfiction。
　　Thehouse，bydaylight，hadprovedtobesixstorieshigh，thesameasever。Icouldfind，withallmyarchitecturalexperience，noroominitsaltitudeforthoseinterminablestairways，nowidthbetweenitswallsforthatlongcorridor，whereIhadtrampedatnight。Andtherewasyetagreaterdifficulty。Ihadreadsomewhereanaphorismthateverythingmaybefalsetoitselfsavehumannature。Ahousemightelongateorenlargeitself——orseemtodosotoagentlemanwhohadbeendining。Theoceanmightdryup，therocksmeltinthesun，thestarsfallfromheavenlikeautumnapples；andtherewasnothingintheseincidentstobogglethephilosopher。Butthecaseoftheyoungladystooduponadifferentfoundation。
　　Girlswerenotgoodenough，ornotgoodthatway，orelsetheyweretoogood。Iwasreadytoacceptanyoftheseviews：allpointedtothesameconclusion，whichIwasthusalreadyonthepointofreaching，whenafreshargumentoccurred，andinstantlyconfirmedit。Icouldremembertheexactwordswehadeachsaid；andIhadspoken，andshehadreplied，inEnglish。Plainly，then，thewholeaffairwasanillusion：
　　catacombs，andstairs，andcharitablelady，allwereequallythestuffofdreams。
　　Ihadjustcometothisdetermination，whenthereblewaflawofwindthroughtheautumnalgardens；thedeadleavesshowereddown，andaflightofsparrows，thickasasnowfall，wheeledabovemyheadwithsuddenpipings。Thisagreeablebustlewastheaffairofamoment，butitstartledmefromtheabstractionintowhichIhadfallenlikeasummons。Isatbrisklyup，andasIdidso，myeyesrestedonthefigureofaladyinabrownjacketandcarryingapaint-box。Byhersidewalkedafellowsomeyearsolderthanmyself，withaneaselunderhisarm；andalikebytheircourseandcargoImightjudgetheywereboundforthegallery，wheretheladywas，doubtless，engageduponsomecopying。YoucanimaginemysurprisewhenIrecognizedinhertheheroineofmyadventure。
　　Toputthematterbeyondquestion，oureyesmet，andshe，seeingherselfrememberedandrecallingthetriminwhichI
　　hadlastbeheldher，lookedswiftlyonthegroundwithjustashadowofconfusion。
　　Icouldnottellyouto-dayifshewereplainorpretty；butshehadbehavedwithsomuchgoodsense，andIhadcutsopoorafigureinherpresence，thatIbecameinstantlyfiredwiththedesiretodisplaymyselfinamorefavorablelight。Theyoungmanbesideswaspossiblyherbrother；brothersareapttobehasty，theirsbeingapartinwhichitispossible，atacomparativelyearlyage，toassumethedignityofmanhood；
　　anditoccurredtomeitmightbewisetoforestallallpossiblecomplicationsbyanapology。
　　OnthisreasoningIdrewneartothegallerydoor，andhadhardlygotinpositionbeforetheyoungmancameout。ThusitwasthatIcamefacetofacewithmythirddestiny；formycareerhasbeenentirelyshapedbythesethreeelements，——myfather，thecapitolofMuskegon，andmyfriend，JimPinkerton。
　　Asfortheyoungladywithwhommymindwasatthemomentchieflyoccupied，Iwasnevertohearmoreofherfromthatdayforward：anexcellentexampleoftheBlindMan’sBuffthatwecalllife。
　　Thestranger，Ihavesaid，wassomeyearsolderthanmyself：amanofagoodstature，averylivelyface，cordial，agitatedmanners，andagrayeyeasactiveasafowl’s。
　　“MayIhaveawordwithyou？”saidI。
　　“Mydearsir。”hereplied，“Idon’tknowwhatitcanbeabout，butyoumayhaveahundredifyoulike。”
　　“Youhavejustleftthesideofayounglady。”Icontinued，“towardswhomIwasledveryunintentionallyintotheappearanceofanoffence。Tospeaktoherselfwouldbeonlytorenewherembarrassment，andIseizetheoccasionofmakingmyapology，anddeclaringmyrespect，tooneofmyownsexwhoisherfriend，andperhaps。”Iadded，withabow，“hernaturalprotector。”
　　“Youareacountrymanofmine；Iknowit！”hecried：“Iamsureofitbyyourdelicacytoalady。Youdohernomorethanjustice。Iwasintroducedtohertheothernightattea，intheapartmentofsomepeople，friendsofmine；andmeetingheragainthismorning，Icouldnotdolessthancarryhereaselforher。Mydearsir，whatisyourname？”
　　Iwasdisappointedtofindhehadsolittlebondwithmyyounglady；andbutthatitwasIwhohadsoughttheacquaintance，mighthavebeentemptedtoretreat。Atthesametime，somethinginthestranger’seyeengagedme。
　　“Myname。”saidI，“isLoudonDodd；IamastudentofsculptureherefromMuskegon。”
　　“Ofsculpture？”hecried，asthoughthatwouldhavebeenhislastconjecture。“MineisJamesPinkerton；Iamdelightedtohavethepleasureofyouracquaintance。”
　　“Pinkerton！”itwasnowmyturntoexclaim。“AreyouBroken-
　　StoolPinkerton？”
　　Headmittedhisidentitywithalaughofboyishdelight；andindeedanyyoungmaninthequartermighthavebeenproudtoownasobriquetthusgallantlyacquired。
　　Inordertoexplainthename，Imustheredigressintoachapterofthehistoryofmannersinthenineteenthcentury，verywellworthcommemorationforitsownsake。Insomeofthestudiosatthatdate，thehazingofnewpupilswasbothbarbarousandobscene。Twoincidents，followingoneontheheelsoftheothertendedtoproduceanadvanceincivilizationbythemeansassocommonlyhappensofapassingappealtosavagestandards。ThefirstwasthearrivalofalittlegentlemanfromArmenia。Hehadafezuponhisheadandwhatnobodycountedonadaggerinhispocket。Thehazingwassetaboutinthecustomarystyle，and，perhapsinvirtueofthevictim’shead-gear，evenmoreboisterouslythanusual。Heboreitatfirstwithaninvitingpatience；butupononeofthestudentsproceedingtoanunpardonablefreedom，pluckedouthisknifeandsuddenlyplungeditinthebellyofthejester。Thisgentleman，Iampleasedtosay，passedmonthsuponabedofsickness，beforehewasinapositiontoresumehisstudies。