There were ominous rumours concerning the house even in the days when it belonged to the previous tenant Matov, a kinsman of the Rameyev sisters. It was said that the house was inhabited by ghosts, and by phantoms who had left their graves. There was a footpath close to the house which led across the northern part of the estate, through a wood, to the Krutitsk cemetery. In the town they called this the footpath of Navii,[2] and they were afraid to walk upon it even by day. Many legends grew up around it. The local _intelligentsia_ tried vainly to disprove them. The whole property was sometimes called Navii’s playground. There were some who said that they had seen with their own eyes this enigmatic inscription on the gates: “Three went in, two came out.” This inscription was, of course, no longer there. Now only lightly cut-out figures were to be seen, one under the other: ‘3’ on top, ‘2’ lower, and ‘1’ at the bottom. All the evil rumours and warnings did not prevent Giorgiy Sergeyevitch Trirodov from buying the house. He made changes in it, and then settled here after his comparatively brief educational career had been rudely cut short. It took a long time to rebuild and transform the house. The high walls prevented any one from seeing what was being done there. This aroused the curiosity of the townsfolk and caused all sorts of malicious gossip. The working men did not belong to the place, but were brought from a distance. Dark and short and rather gruff-looking, they did not understand the local speech, and seldom showed themselves in the streets. “They are wicked and dark” was said about them in the town. “They carry knives about with them, and dig underground passages in Navii’s playground. He himself is clean-shaven like a German, and he’s imported these foreign earth-diggers.” * * * * * “I like that red-haired instructress, Nadezhda Vestchezerova,” said Elena. She looked searchingly at her sister. “Yes, she’s very sincere,” answered Elisaveta. ‘“A fine girl.” “They are all charming,” said Elena with greater assurance. “Yes,” observed Elisaveta, with indecision in her voice. “But there is that other--the one that ran away from us--there’s something I don’t like about her. Perhaps it’s a slight veneer of hypocrisy.” “Why do you say so?” asked Elena. “I simply feel it. She smiles too pleasantly, too lovingly. She seems in every way phlegmatic, yet she tries to appear animated. Her words come rather easily sometimes, and she exaggerates.” * * * * * It was quiet in the garden behind the stone wall. This was Kirsha’s free hour. But he could not play, though he tried to.