“Never fear, we’ll find our way out,” replied Elisaveta. “We are bound to get somewhere.” At that instant there came towards them from among the bushes the small, sunburnt, handsome Kirsha. His dark, closely grown eyebrows and black wavy hair, unspoiled by headgear, gave him the wild look of a wood-sprite. “Dear boy, where do you come from?” asked Elisaveta. Kirsha eyed the sisters with an attentive, direct, and innocent gaze. He said: “I am Kirsha Trirodov. Follow this path, and you’ll find yourselves where you want to go. I’ll go ahead of you.” He turned and walked on. The sisters followed him upon the narrow path between the tall trees. Here and there flowers were visible--small, white, odorous flowers. They emitted a strange, pungent smell. It made the sisters feel both gay and languid. Kirsha walked silently before them. At the end of the road loomed a mound, overgrown by tangled, ugly grass. At the foot of the mound was a rusty door which looked as if it were meant to hide some treasure. Kirsha felt in his pocket, took out a key, and opened the door. It creaked unpleasantly and breathed out cold, dampness, and fear. A long dark passage became discernible. Kirsha pressed a spot near the door. The dark passage became lit up as though by electric light, but the lights themselves were not visible. The sisters entered the grotto. The light poured from everywhere. But the sources of light remained a mystery. The walls themselves seemed to radiate. The light fell evenly, and neither bright reflections nor shadowy places were to be seen. The sisters went on. Now they were alone. The door closed behind them with a grating sound. Kirsha ran on ahead. The sisters no longer saw him. The corridor was sinuous. It was difficult to walk fast for some unknown reason. A kind of weight seemed to fetter their limbs. The passage inclined slightly downwards. They walked on like this a long time. It grew hotter and damper the farther they advanced. There was an aroma--strange, sad, and exotic. The fragrance increased, became more and more languorous. It made the head dizzy and the heart ready to faint with a sweetness not free from pain. It seemed an incredibly long way. Their legs now moved more slowly. The stone floor was cruelly hard. “It’s almost impossible to walk,” whispered Elisaveta. Those few moments seemed like ages in that dank, sultry underground. There seemed to be no end to the narrow winding passage; the two sisters felt as though they were doomed to walk on and on, for ever and ever, without reaching any place. The light gradually grew dimmer, a thin mist rose before their eyes. Still they walked on along the cruel, endless way. Suddenly their journey was done. Before them was an open door, a shaft of white, exultant light came pouring in--freedom’s own ecstasy.