Rock and skins. Like a...well, like a trite poet's imagination of what a savage's lair would look like.

(Yes, Combeferre thinks of some people as "savages." The narrator apologizes on his behalf, since he wouldn't think to do so for himself. Combeferre is a broad-minded man for his time and place, but he's still of that time and place).

Combeferre steps into the bathroom and sees a stained glass picture of a nearly-naked man carrying a stone club.

He turns around and speedily walks back out. "I vote no," he says.