...
At the top of this flight I was confronted by a second hall. A shut door
indicated the existence of a being directly over the Surveillant's holy
head. Upon this door, lest I should lose time in speculating, was in
ample letters inscribed:
GESTIONNAIRE
I felt unutterably lost. I approached the door. I even started to push
it.
"_Attends, Nom de Dieu._" The _planton_ gave me another shove, faced the
door, knocked twice, and cried in accents of profound respect: "Monsieur
le Gestionnaire"--after which he gazed at me with really supreme
contempt, his neat pig-like face becoming almost circular.
I said to myself: This Gestionnaire, whoever he is, must be a very
terrible person, a frightful person, a person utterly without mercy.
From within a heavy, stupid, pleasant voice lazily remarked:
"_Entrez._"
The _planton_ threw the door open, stood stiffly on the threshold, and
gave me the look which _plantons_ give to eggs when _plantons_ are a
little hungry.
I crossed the threshold, trembling with (let us hope) anger.
Before me, seated at a table, was a very fat personage with a black skull
cap perched upon its head. Its face was possessed of an enormous nose, on
which pince-nez precariously roosted; otherwise the face was large,
whiskered, very German and had three chins.
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