non-committal countenance.

"This was the neighbor Chance found for me in the house in the Rue de
Gres, where I used to live when as yet I was only a second clerk
finishing my third year's studies. The house is damp and dark, and
boasts no courtyard. All the windows look on the street; the whole
dwelling, in claustral fashion, is divided into rooms or cells of
equal size, all opening upon a long corridor dimly lit with borrowed
lights. The place must have been part of an old convent once. So
gloomy was it, that the gaiety of eldest sons forsook them on the
stairs before they reached my neighbor's door. He and his house were
much alike; even so does the oyster resemble his native rock.

"I was the one creature with whom he had any communication, socially
speaking; he would come in to ask for a light, to borrow a book or a
newspaper, and of an evening he would allow me to go into his cell,
and when he was in the humor we would chat together. These marks of
confidence were the results of four years of neighborhood and my own
sober conduct. From sheer lack of pence, I was bound to live pretty
much as he did. Had he any relations or friends? Was he rich or poor?
Nobody could give an answer to these questions. I myself never saw
money in his room. Doubtless his capital was safely stowed in the
strong rooms of the Bank. He used to collect his bills himself as they
fell due, running all over Paris on a pair of shanks as skinny as a
stag's. On occasion he would be a martyr to prudence. One day, when he
happened to have gold in his pockets, a double napoleon worked its
way, somehow or other, out of his fob and fell, and another lodger
following him up the stairs picked up the coin and returned it to its
owner.