One night, after spending the day in the Catacombs, which are nothing more than cities of the dead, under ground, and after tumbling over my companions, and treading on the heels of the guide, I came home hoping for a quiet, peaceful evening. Finding, however, an invitation to spend that evening with a lady who lived at the other end of the palace, I felt bound to accept it.
As I passed along the dark, narrow entry, which seemed like going through the Catacombs again, I heard a patter, patter, patter, on the brick floor. I supported myself by putting my hands out until they touched the sides of the tube, for I was just the least bit frightened.
The sound was approaching me; but I dared not turn my back. It echoed from the walls and the high ceiling, and the whole air seemed filled with a weird noise. I tiptoed along, when suddenly my foot came down directly upon a pigeon.

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