The sallow stone floors and rough arched ceilings gave off a catacombic air which was comically incongruous with the brilliantly lit and decorated furnishings of the billeterie, where the floors were suddenly covered in mosaics and the pillars in finely sculpted sconces. He continued after checking his coat and hat and picking up a pair of keys, a few steps further and the rough rectangular pillars gave way to polished marble corinthians and the ceiling an ornate rotunda. Yet, this was only an amuse bouche compared to the outlandish opulence of le Bassin de la Pythie, where Anselme paused to contemplate the oracle, her wild form frozen forever, frenzied features illuminated on either side to cast eerie shadows behind. Mounting the first flight of the Grand Escalier was like crossing the Styx, a whole world of light and colour opening as the low cavernous ceiling passed away for a vaulted four-story atrium. Here also the ears were filled with hundreds of voices echoing amongst the pillars and arches. Having no desire to be caught up in the drama that seemed to inevitably unfold on those storied steps, he quickly made his way into the quieter space of le Bibliothèque-musée. 

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