The most prominent distinction between this landscape and the last is a certain musty and faintly rotting smell that pervades it, intermixed with the smell of the torch-smoke. Though they can't see them, it seems evident that they are not the only living things within the bounds of the structure.

"From Eurydice to Ariadne," Grantaire remarks -- though he's careful not to disturb the string as it trails down. "Enjolras, I pray you, at all costs avoid Medea."