‘Where’s he gone?’ ‘To America.’ ‘To America!’ I repealed involuntarily. ‘But he will come back?’ The servant looked at me suspiciously. ‘We don’t know about that. May be he won’t come back at all.’ ‘And has he been living here long?’ ‘Not long, a week. He’s not here now.’ ‘And what was his surname, the baron’s?’ The girl stared at me. ‘You don’t know his name? We simply called him the baron.--Hi! Piotr!’ she shouted, seeing I was pushing in. ‘Come here; here’s a stranger keeps asking questions.’ From the house came the clumsy figure of a sturdy workman. ‘What is it? What do you want?’ he asked in a sleepy voice; and having heard me sullenly, he repeated what the girl had told me. ‘But who does live here?’ I asked. ‘Our master.’ ‘Who is he?’ ‘A carpenter. They’re all carpenters in this street.’ ‘Can I see him?’ ‘You can’t now, he’s asleep.’ ‘But can’t I go into the house?’ ‘No. Go away.’ ‘Well, but can I see your master later on?’ ‘What for? Of course. You can always see him.... To be sure, he’s always at his business here. Only go away now. Such a time in the morning, upon my soul!’ ‘Well, but that negro?’ I asked suddenly. The workman looked in perplexity first at me, then at the servant girl. ‘What negro?’ he said at last. ‘Go away, sir. You can come later. You can talk to the master.’ I went out into the street. The gate slammed at once behind me, sharply and heavily, with no groan this time. I carefully noted the street and the house, and went away, but not home--I was conscious of a sort of disillusionment. Everything that had happened to me was so strange, so unexpected, and meanwhile what a stupid conclusion to it! I had been persuaded, I had been convinced, that I should see in that house the room I knew, and in the middle of it my father, the baron, in the dressing-gown, and with a pipe.... And instead of that, the master of the house was a carpenter, and I could go and see him as much as I liked--and order furniture of him, I dare say. My father had gone to America. And what was left for me to do?... To tell my mother everything, or to bury for ever the very memory of that meeting? I positively could not resign myself to the idea that such a supernatural, mysterious beginning should end in such a senseless, ordinary conclusion! I did not want to return home, and walked at random away from the town. XIV