He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Somewhere you may stumble upon a clew to his identity. But we can’t help noticing. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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