Khripatch did not finish, and merely shrugged his shoulders. "But after all," said Peredonov, "I did it for their good." "Please don't let us argue about it," Khripatch interrupted him sharply. "I request you most emphatically not to let this happen again." Peredonov looked angrily at the Head-Master. That evening they decided to have a house-warming. They invited all their acquaintances. Peredonov walked about the rooms to see that everything was in order and that there was nothing which could be the cause of his being informed against. He thought: "Well, everything seems all right--there are no forbidden books visible, the ikon-lamps are alight, the Royal portraits are hanging in the place of honour on the wall." Suddenly Mickiewicz winked at him from the wall. "He might get me into trouble," thought Peredonov in fear. "I'd better take the portrait and put it in the privy and bring Pushkin back here." "After all Pushkin was a courtier," he thought, as he hung the portrait on the dining-room wall. Then he remembered that they would play cards in the evening, so he decided to examine the cards. He took the opened pack of cards which had only been used once and looked through them as if he were trying to find something. The faces of the court cards did not please him--they had such big eyes. Latterly when he was playing it seemed to him that the cards smiled like Varvara. Even the ordinary six of spades had an insolent and unfriendly look. Peredonov gathered together all the cards he had and put out the eyes of all the kings, queens and knaves, so that they should not stare at him. He did this first with the cards that had already been used, and afterwards he unsealed the new packs. He did this with furtive glances around him, as if he were afraid that he would be detected. Luckily for him, Varvara was busy in the kitchen and did not come into the rooms,--how could she leave such an abundance of eatables: Klavdia might help herself. When she wanted anything from one of the rooms, she sent Klavdia. Each time Klavdia came into the room, Peredonov trembled, hid the scissors in his pocket and pretended that he was dealing the cards for patience. While Peredonov was in this way depriving the kings and queens of any possibility of their irritating him with their stares, an unpleasantness was approaching him from another side. The hat, which Peredonov had thrown on the stove of his former house in order to keep from wearing it, had been found by Ershova. She suspected that the hat had not been left there by a simple accident: her former tenants detested her and it was likely, Ershova thought, that they had put a spell in the hat which would prevent others from taking the house. In fear and vexation she took the hat to a sorceress. The latter looked at the hat, whispered something over it mysteriously and severely, spat to each of the four quarters and said to Ershova: