The door opened into an immense greenhouse. Strange, muscular, monstrously green plants grew here. The air was very humid, very oppressive. The glass walls intersected by iron bars let through much light. The light was painfully, pitilessly dazzling, so that everything appeared in a whirl before their eyes. Elena glanced at her dress. It struck her as being grey, worn out. But the bright light diverted her glances elsewhere and made her forget herself. The blue-green glass sky of the greenhouse flung down sparks and heat. The cruel Dragon rejoiced at the earthly respirations confined in this prison of glass. He furiously kissed his beloved poisonous grasses. “It is even more terrible here than in the passage,” said Elisaveta. “Let’s leave this place quickly.” “No, it is pleasant here,” said Elena with a happy smile. She was enjoying the pink and purple flowers which bloomed in a round basin. But Elisaveta walked rapidly towards the door leading to the garden. Elena overtook her, and grumbled: “Why are you running? Here is a bench; let’s rest here.” Trirodov met them in the garden just outside the greenhouse. His manner of addressing them was simple and direct. “I believe,” he began, “that you are interested in this house and its owner. Well, if you like I’ll show you a part of my kingdom.” Elena blushed. Elisaveta calmly bowed and said: “Yes, we are an inquisitive pair. This house once belonged to a relative, but it was left abandoned. It is said that many changes have been made.” “Yes, many changes have been made,” said Trirodov quietly, “but the greater part remains as it was.” “Every one was astonished,” continued Elisaveta, “when you decided to settle here. The reputation of the house did not hinder you.” Trirodov led the sisters through the house and the garden. The conversation ran on smoothly. The sisters’ embarrassment was soon gone. They felt quite natural with Trirodov. His calm, friendly voice put them wholly at ease. They continued to walk and to observe. But they felt conscious that another life, intimate yet remote, hovered round them all the while. Sounds of music came to them at intervals; sometimes it was the doleful tones of a violin, sometimes the quiet plaint of a flute; again it was the reed-like voice of some unseen singer which sang a tender and restful song. Upon one small lawn, in the shade of old trees, whose foliage protected them from the hot glare of the Dragon, making it pleasantly cool and pleasantly dark there, a number of small boys and girls, dressed in white, had formed a ring and were dancing. As the sisters approached them the children dispersed. They scampered off so quietly that they barely made a sound even when they brushed against the twigs; they vanished as though they had not been there.