A broad fixed ladder led to the floor above. Under the ladder
stood a big bed in a boarded recess. What was there upstairs? I
never quite knew. I would see the master sometimes bring down an
armful of hay for the ass, sometimes a basket of potatoes which the
housewife emptied into the pot in which the little porkers' food
was cooked. It must have been a loft of sorts, a storehouse of
provisions for man and beast. Those two apartments composed the
whole building.

To return to the lower one, the schoolroom: a window faces south,
the only window in the house, a low, narrow window whose frame you
can touch at the same time with your head and both your shoulders.
This sunny aperture is the only lively spot in the dwelling, it
overlooks the greater part of the village, which straggles along
the slopes of a slanting valley. In the window recess is the
master's little table.

The opposite wall contains a niche in which stands a gleaming
copper pail full of water. Here the parched children can relieve
their thirst when they please, with a cup left within their reach.
At the top of the niche are a few shelves bright with pewter
plates, dishes and drinking vessels, which are taken down from
their sanctuary on great occasions only.

More or less everywhere, at any spot which the light touches, are
crudely colored pictures, pasted on the walls. Here is Our Lady of
the Seven Dolours, the disconsolate Mother of God opening her blue
cloak to show her heart pierced with seven daggers. Between the
sun and moon, which stare at you with their great, round eyes, is