The Butte-aux-Cailles is a hill too hollow to build on. Limestone was dug out from under it for centuries, and when the city rebuilt itself in stone in the nineteenth century the engineers found that the ground here would not carry the weight. Six-storey apartment blocks went up all around the hill, but not on it. What stands on the hill is what was already there: two-storey houses, small workshops, and lanes with kerbs and cobbles, in the middle of a district of towers and boulevards.
The other thing under the hill is hot water. A borehole sunk here in the nineteenth century went down five hundred and eighty-two metres before it reached water, and that water comes out of the fountain on the square at about twenty-eight degrees. It is drinkable and free, and people queue with bottles. The same water fills the swimming pool next to the fountain, a brick building of 1924 with an indoor basin under a curved roof and open-air basins beside it. The hill is named after a man called Caille who bought the land in the sixteenth century, and not after any bird.