Once in the street, Peredonov was assailed by doubts. Suppose it was a trap? And suppose it suddenly turned out that Goudayevsky was at home, and they should seize him and beat him? Wouldn't it be better for him to turn back. "No, I'd better go as far as the house, and then I shall see," Peredonov decided. The night was quiet, cold and dark. It enveloped him on all sides and compelled him to walk slowly. Fresh gusts of wind blew from the neighbouring fields. Light, rustling noises could be heard in the grass along the fences, and everything around him seemed suspicious and strange--perhaps someone was following stealthily behind and watching him. All objects were strangely and unexpectedly concealed by the darkness, as if another different nocturnal life awoke in them, incomprehensible to man and hostile to him. Peredonov walked quickly in the streets and mumbled: "You won't gain anything by following me. I'm not going on any bad business. I'm going in the interest of my work. So there!" At last he reached Goudayevsky's house. A light was visible in one of the windows facing the street; the remaining four were dark. Peredonov ascended the steps very quietly, stood a while and put his ears to the door and listened--everything was quiet. He lightly pulled the brass handle of the bell--a distant, faint tinkle of a bell was heard. But, faint though it was, it frightened Peredonov, as if this sound would awaken all the hostile powers and make them come to this door. Peredonov quickly ran down the steps and hid behind a post, pressing close against the wall. Several moments passed. Peredonov's heart jumped and beat heavily. Presently light footsteps could be heard and the noise of a door opening. Julia looked out into the street and her black, passionate eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Who's there?" she asked in a loud whisper. Peredonov stepped a little away from the wall and looked into the narrow opening of the door where it was dark and quiet, and asked also in a tremulous whisper: "Has Nikolai Mikhailovitch gone?" "Yes, he's gone, he's gone," she whispered joyously. Peredonov glanced timidly around him and followed her into the dark passage. "I'm sorry I have no light," whispered Julia, "but I'm afraid someone might see and they might gossip." She led Peredonov up the staircase into a corridor, where a small lamp hung, throwing a dim light on the upper stairs. Julia laughed quietly and joyously, and her ribbons trembled from her laughter. "Yes, he's gone," she whispered gleefully, as she looked around and scrutinised Peredonov with passionately burning eyes. "I was afraid he would remain at home to-night as he was in a great rage. But he couldn't do without his game of whist. I've even sent the maid away--there's only the baby's nurse in the house--otherwise we might be interrupted. For you know what sort of people there are nowadays."