There was an old French woman, a former governess, who was a regular visitor to the Reading Room over many years. She would sit not far away from me and would always be reading or ‘mentally experiencing’ the scores of various musical works. She always had a hungry look about her, and her clothes were little better than rags; once, the museum administration even denied her admission to the reading room. But the governess’s former charge, an important ‘lady’, intervened on her behalf, and permission to visit the Reading Room was restored to her. The old woman spent whole days in the museum, especially in winter, and told people quite openly that this was where she warmed up: she had nothing to heat her dwelling with.

One day I came to the museum and didn’t find the French woman in her usual place.

This surprised me. The museum administrators were also taken aback. Two or three days passed, but the old woman still didn’t appear. The employees and regulars of the Reading Room became very concerned. They started making inquiries.

It transpired that the old woman had died, and one hundred thousand francs (of the pre-war variety!) were found sewn up in her mattress.