I

“The wind was blowing ...” - having written this, I overturned the inkwell with a careless movement, and the color of the brilliant puddle reminded me of the darkness of that night when I was lying in the cockpit of the Espanyola. This boat barely lifted six tons, and a shipment of dried fish arrived from Mazabu. Some people like the smell of dried fish.

The whole ship reeked of horror, and, lying alone in the cockpit with a window plugged with a rag, by the light of a candle stolen from the skipper Gros, I was examining the cover of a book, the pages of which had been torn out by a practical reader, and I found the cover.

On the inside of the binding was written in red ink:

Below was:

"Dick Farmeron. I love you Greta. Your D.

On the right side, a man named Lazar Norman signed twenty-four times with ponytails and sweeping strokes. Someone else boldly crossed out Norman's handwriting and left the cryptic words at the very bottom: "What do we know about ourselves?"

I reread these words with sadness. I was sixteen years old, but I already knew how painful the bee stings - Sadness. The inscription was especially tormenting because recently the guys from the Melusina, having drunk me with a special cocktail, spoiled the skin on my right arm, pricking out a tattoo in the form of three words: “I know everything.” They ridiculed me for reading books—reading many books and being able to answer questions they had never thought of.

I rolled up my sleeve. Around the fresh tattoo, swollen skin turned pink. I wondered if these words "I know everything" were so stupid; then he cheered up and began to laugh - he realized that they were stupid. Lowering my sleeve, I yanked out the rag and peered through the hole.

It was as if the lights of the harbor flickered right in front of his face. Sharp as clicks rain hit in the face. The water rushed in the darkness, the wind creaked and howled, rocking the ship. Nearby stood the Melusina; there my tormentors, brightly illuminating the cabin, warmed themselves with vodka. I heard what they were saying, and began to listen more attentively, as the conversation was about some house where the floors were made of pure silver, about fabulous luxury, underground passages and much more. I could make out the voices of Patrick and Mools, two ferocious redheads.

Mools said:

He found a treasure.

“No,” said Patrick. - He lived in a room where there was a secret box; there was a letter in the box, and from the letter he learned where the diamond mine was.

“And I heard,” said the lazy Carrel Gooseneck who stole my folding knife from me, “that he won a million at cards every day!”

“But I think he sold his soul to the devil,” said Bolinas, the cook, “otherwise you won’t build palaces right away.”

"Shouldn't you ask the Head with a Hole?" inquired Patrick (that was the nickname they gave me), “Sandy Prouel, who knows everything?”

Vile - oh, what vile! Laughter was Patrick's answer. I stopped listening. I lay down again, covered with a torn jacket, and began to smoke tobacco, collected from cigarette butts in the harbor. It produced a strong action - it was as if a saw was turning in the throat. I warmed my cold nose by blowing smoke through my nostrils.

I should have been on deck: the second sailor of the Hispaniola had gone to his mistress, and the skipper and his brother were sitting in the tavern - but it was cold and disgusting above. Our cockpit was a simple plank hole with two decks of bare boards and a herring barrel-table. I thought about nice rooms where it's warm and there are no fleas. Then I thought about the conversation I had just heard. He alarmed me - how alarmed you will be if you are told that a firebird has descended in a neighboring garden or an old stump has blossomed with roses.

Not knowing who they were talking about, I imagined a man in blue glasses, with a pale, malicious mouth and large ears, descending from a steep peak along chests bound with gold braces.

“Why is he so lucky,” I thought, “why? ...” Here, holding my hand in my pocket, I felt for a piece of paper and, examining it, saw that this piece of paper represents an exact account of my relationship with the skipper - since October 17, when I entered Espanyola - until November 17, that is, until yesterday. I myself wrote down on it all the deductions from my salary. Here were mentioned: a broken cup with a blue inscription "To a dear husband from a faithful wife"; a sunken oak bucket, which I myself, at the request of the skipper, stole from the deck of the Western Grain; a yellow rubber raincoat stolen from me by someone, a skipper's mouthpiece crushed under my foot and the glass of the cabin smashed - all by me. The skipper accurately reported each time that the next adventure was worth it, and it was useless to bargain with him, because he was quick at hand.

I calculated the amount and saw that it more than covered the salary. I didn't have to get anything. I almost cried with anger, but I restrained myself, because for some time I had been stubbornly solving the question - “Who am I - a boy or a man?” I shuddered at the thought of being a boy, but, on the other hand, I felt something irrevocable in the word "man" - I imagined boots and mustaches like a brush. If I'm a boy, as a brisk girl with a basket of melons once called me, - she said: "Come on, step aside, boy," then why do I think about everything big: books, for example, and about the position of captain, family, children, about how to say in a bass voice: “Hey you, shark meat!” If I’m a man, what more than anyone else made me think a ragamuffin about seven years old, who said, standing on his toes: “Give me a light, uncle!” - why don't I have a mustache and women always turn their backs to me, as if I'm not a man, but a pillar?

I was hard, cold, uncomfortable. The wind howled. - "Howl!" - I said, and he howled, as if he found strength in my anguish. The rain crumbled. - "Lei!" - I said, rejoicing that everything was bad, everything was damp and gloomy, - not only my account with the skipper. It was cold, and I believed that I would catch a cold and die, my restless body ...

II

I jumped up, hearing steps and voices from above; but those were not our voices. The deck of the Hispaniola was lower than the embankment, so that it was possible to descend on it without a gangway. The voice said, "There's nobody on that pig trough." I liked this beginning, and I was looking forward to the answer. "It doesn't matter," replied the second voice, so careless and gentle that I wondered if the woman was answering the man. “Well, who is there? - the first one said louder, - there is light in the cockpit; hey, well done!"

Then I got out and saw - rather, I distinguished in the darkness - two people wrapped in waterproof raincoats. They stood looking around, then they noticed me, and the one who was taller said:

“Boy, where is the skipper?”

It seemed strange to me that in such darkness you can determine the age. At that moment I wanted to be a skipper. I would say - thickly, loudly, with a hoarse voice - something desperate, for example: "Tear the hell out of you!" - or: "Let all the cables burst in my brain, if I understand anything!"

I explained that I was alone on the ship, and also explained where the others had gone.

I thought... No, I didn't think anything. But it was a strange appearance, and, looking at the unknown, for a moment I flew off to my beloved land of battles, heroes, treasures, where giant sails pass like shadows and a cry is heard - a song - a whisper: “Mystery is charm! Mystery is charm! "Has it begun?" I asked myself; my knees were trembling.

There are moments when, thinking, you do not notice the movements, so I woke up only when I saw myself sitting in the cockpit opposite the visitors - they sat on the second bunk where Egva, another sailor, slept - and sat bent over so as not to hit the ceiling-deck.

"Here are the people!" I thought, respectfully examining the figures of my guests. I liked both of them - each in its own way. The eldest, broad-faced, with a pale face, stern gray eyes and a barely perceptible smile, should, in my opinion, be suitable for the role of a brave captain who has something for the sailors to eat besides dried fish. The younger one, whose voice seemed to me like a woman, alas! - had a small mustache, dark disdainful eyes and blond hair. He looked weaker than the first, but he had good hips and a great laugh. Both sat in raincoats; high boots with lacquered lapels had a thin welt, therefore, these people had money.

Let's talk, young friend! the elder said. As you can see, we are not scammers.

- I swear by the thunder! I replied. - Well, let's talk, damn it! ..

Then they both swayed, as if a log had been inserted between them, and began to laugh. I know this joke. It means that either you are considered a fool, or you have said immense nonsense. I looked resentfully for a while, not understanding what was the matter, then demanded an explanation in a form sufficient to stop the fun and make me feel my resentment.

“Well,” said the first, “we don't want to offend you. We laughed because we drank a little. - And he told what business brought them to the ship, and I, listening, bulged my eyes.

Where did these two people come from, who involved me in the abduction of the Espanyola, I didn’t quite understand - I was so excited and happy that Uncle Gro’s dry salted fish disappeared in the colored fog of a true, unexpected adventure. In a word, they were going, but they missed the train. Having missed the train, they missed the steamer "Steam" because of this, the only ship that once a day goes around the coast of both peninsulas, facing each other with their tips; The Steam leaves at four, winds its way through the lagoons, and returns in the morning. Meanwhile, urgent business requires them to Cape Gardena or, as we called it, "Troyachka" - in the image of three rocks standing in the water near the shore.

“The overland road,” said the eldest, whose name was Duroc, “takes two days, the wind is strong for the boat, and we need to be there by morning. I'll tell you straight, the sooner the better ... and you'll take us to Cape Gardena if you want to earn - how much do you want to get, Sandy?

“So you need to talk to the skipper,” I said and volunteered to go to the tavern, but Duroc, moving an eyebrow, took out his wallet, put it on his knee and jingled two columns of gold coins. When he unfolded them, a brilliant jet spilled into his palm, and he began to play with it, toss it up, speaking in time with this magical ringing.

“Here is your earnings for tonight,” he said, “here is thirty-five gold pieces. My friend Estamp and I know the rudder and the sails and the whole shore inside the bay, you risk nothing. On the contrary, Uncle Gro will declare you a hero and a genius when, with the help of the people we will give you, you return tomorrow morning and offer him this bank note. Then instead of one galoshes he will have two. As for this Gro, we're frankly glad he's gone. He will scrub his beard tightly, then he will say that he needs to go and consult with his friends. Then he will send you for a drink to "sprinkle" the departure and get drunk, and it will be necessary to persuade him to get off his chair - to stand at the helm. In general, it will be as clever with him as, putting a bag on his feet, dancing.

– Do you know him? I asked in amazement, because at that moment Uncle Gro seemed to be with us.

- Oh no! Estamp said. “But we…um…have heard of him. So, Sandy, let's go.

- We are sailing ... Oh, heaven on earth! - I did not feel anything bad in my heart in the words of these people, but I saw that care and ardor gnawed at them. My spirit was like a tamper during its operation. The offer took my breath away and blinded me. I suddenly warmed up. If I could, I would offer these people a glass of grog and a cigar. I made up my mind without reservations, sincerely agreeing with everything, since everything was true and Gro himself would have begged for this ticket if he had been here.

"In that case... You certainly know... You won't let me down," I muttered.

Everything changed: the rain became playful, the wind playful, the darkness itself, gurgling water, said “yes”. I took the passengers to the skipper's cabin and, in a hurry, so as not to overtake and delay Gro, untied the sails - two slanting sails with a lifting yard, took off the moorings, put the jib, and when Duroc turned the rudder, the Espanyola moved away from the embankment, and no one didn't notice it.

We left the harbor in a strong wind, with a good pitching, and as we turned around the cape, Estamp took the helm, and Duroc and I found ourselves in the cabin, and I looked at this man, only now I clearly imagined how Uncle Gro felt if he returned with his brother from the tavern. What he would think of me, I did not even dare to imagine, since his brain was probably full of fists and knives, but I clearly saw him say to his brother: “Is this the place or not? I don't understand."

- That's right, then, - I must say, brother, - this is the very place, - here is the pedestal, and here is the folded slab; “Melusina” is standing nearby ... and indeed ...

Then I saw myself with Gro's hand in my hair. Despite the distance separating me from trouble, the impression was so formidable that, having hastily winked, I began to examine Duroc so as not to be discouraged.

He was sitting sideways on a chair, his right hand dangling over the back of the chair, his left hand holding his fallen cloak. In the same left hand he smoked a special flat cigarette with gold on the end that is put in the mouth, and its smoke, touching my face, smelled like good lipstick. His velvet jacket was unbuttoned at the very throat, revealing a white triangle of shirt, one leg was set far away, the other under a chair, and his face was thinking, looking past me; in this position he filled the whole small cabin with himself. Wanting to be in my place, I opened Uncle Gro's cabinet with a bent nail, as I always did if I was missing something in the kitchen (then locked it), and put a plate of apples, as well as a blue decanter, half filled with vodka, and wiped the glasses with his finger.

“I swear by the bramsel,” I said, “glorious vodka!” Would you and your comrade want to have a drink with me?

- Well, that's the deal! - said Duroc, coming out of his reverie. The back window of the cabin was open. - Estamp, can I bring you a glass of vodka?

“Very well, give it,” came the reply. “I wonder if we’ll be late?”

“But I want and hope that everything turns out to be a false alarm,” Duroc shouted, half turning around. – Have we passed the Fliren Lighthouse?

- The lighthouse is visible on the right, we pass under the sidewind.

Duroc went out with a glass and, returning, said:

“Now let’s have a drink with you, Sandy. You, I see, are not a coward.

“There were no panties in my family,” I said with modest pride. In fact, I had no family. - The sea and the wind - that's what I love!

It seemed that my answer surprised him, he looked at me sympathetically, as if I had found and offered the thing he had lost.

“You, Sandy, are either a big rogue or a strange character,” he said, handing me a cigarette, “do you know that I also love the sea and the wind?”

“You must love,” I replied.

- Why?

- You look like that.

“Never judge by appearances,” said Duroc, smiling. - But let's leave it. Do you know, fiery head, where we are sailing?

I shook my head and leg as maturely as I could.

“At Cape Gardena is the house of my friend Hanover. There are one hundred and sixty windows along the outer façade, if not more. House on three floors. He is great, friend Sandi, very great. And there are many secret passages, hidden rooms of rare beauty, many intricate surprises. The ancient wizards would have blushed with shame that they had invented so little in their time.

I expressed the hope that I would see such wonderful things.

"Well, that's how to say it," Duroc replied absently. “I’m afraid we won’t be up to you. - He turned to the window and shouted: - I'm going to change you!

He got up. Standing, he drank another glass, then straightening and buttoning his cloak, he stepped into the darkness. Estamp came at once, sat down on the chair Duroc had abandoned, and, rubbing his stiff hands, said:

- The third shift will be yours. Well, what are you going to do with your money?

At that moment I was sitting blissfully dazzled by the mysterious palace, and Estamp's question took something away from me. Not otherwise than I have already connected my future with the purpose of arrival. Whirlwind of dreams!

- What will I do? I asked. “Perhaps I will buy a fishing launch. Many fishermen make a living from their craft.

– Is that how? Estamp said. “And I thought that you would give something to your darling.”

I muttered something, not wanting to admit that my darling - a woman's head cut out of a magazine, which terribly captivated me - lies at the bottom of my chest.

Estamp drank, began to look around absently and impatiently. From time to time he asked where the Espanyola went, how much cargo they took, how often Uncle Gro hit me and such trifles. It was evident that he was bored and that the dirty, cramped cabin, like a chicken coop, disgusted him. He was not at all like his friend, the pensive, indulgent Duroc, in whose presence this same stinking cabin seemed like a shiny cabin of an ocean-going steamer. I disliked this nervous young man even less when he called me, perhaps absent-mindedly, "Tommy," and I corrected him in a bass voice, saying:

“Sandy, Sandy is my name, I swear by Lucretia!”

I read, I do not remember where, this word, infallibly believing that it means an unknown island. Laughing, Estamp grabbed me by the ear and exclaimed: “What! Her name is Lucretia, oh you red tape! Duroc, do you hear? he shouted out the window. “Sandy’s friend’s name is Lucrezia!”

Only later did I learn how brave and kind this mocking, superficial man was - but at that moment I hated his impudent mustache.

"Don't tease the boy, Estamp," said Duroc.

New humiliation! - from a man whom I have already made my idol. I shuddered, resentment tightened my face, and, noticing that I lost heart, Estamp jumped up, sat down beside me and grabbed my arm, but at that moment the deck gave way up, and he sprawled on the floor. I helped him up, inwardly triumphant, but he pulled his hand out of mine and jumped up briskly himself, blushing intensely, which made me understand that he was proud, like a cat. For some time he silently and pouting looked at me, then he cheered up and continued his chatter.

At this time, Duroc shouted: "Turn!" We jumped out and moved the sails to the port side. Since we were now near the shore, the wind blew weaker, but still we went with a strong sideways list, sometimes with wave splashes on board. Here it was my time to hold the wheel, and Duroc threw his cloak around my shoulders, although I did not feel the cold at all. “Keep it up,” said Duroc, pointing to the rhumb, and I bravely replied: “There is, keep it up!”

They were both in the cabin now, and I could hear some of their soft conversation through the wind. Like a dream, I remember it. It was about danger, loss, fears, someone's pain, illness; about what "need to know for sure." I had to hold the tiller firmly and stay on my feet myself, as the excitement threw Espanyol like a swing, so during my watch I thought more about keeping the course than anything else. But I was still in a hurry to swim to finally find out who I was dealing with and why. If I could, I would drag the Espanyola at a run, holding the rope in my teeth.

After a short stay in the cabin, Duroc went out, the fire of his cigarette went towards me, and soon I made out a face bending over the compass.

“Well,” he said, patting me on the shoulder, “here we are coming up.” Look!

To the left, in the darkness, stood a golden web of distant lights.

“So this is the house?” I asked.

- Well, you have something to see.

We spent about half an hour walking around the stones of Troyachka. Beyond the ledge there was scarcely a wind to go to the little bay, and when this was finally done, I saw that we were at the slope of gardens or groves parted around a huge black mass, incorrectly marked with lights in various parts. There was a small pier, on one side of it swayed, as I saw, yachts.

Duroc fired, and a little later a man appeared, deftly catching the pier I had thrown. Suddenly a light broke out - a bright lantern flashed at the end of the pier, and I saw wide steps descending to the water, I more clearly distinguished the groves.

In the meantime, the Espanyola had moored, and I lowered the sails. I was very tired, but I did not feel sleepy; on the contrary, I felt sharply, painfully cheerful and immensely myself in this unknown corner.

What is Hanover? - asked, jumping on the pier, Duroc from the man who met us. - Did you recognize us? Hope. Come on, Print. Come with us and you, Sandy, nothing will happen to your boat. Take the money, and you, Tom, take the young man to warm up and arrange him thoroughly, then you have to travel. “And he explained where to take the ship. Goodbye, Sandy! Are you ready, Print? Well, let's move on and God forbid that everything was safe.

So saying, he connected with Estamp, and they, descending to the ground, disappeared to the left, and I looked up at Tom and saw a shaggy face with a huge animal mouth, looking at me from twice the height of my height, bowing its huge head. He buckled up. His shoulders covered the horizon. It looked like it would collapse and crush me.

III

From his mouth, turning like a millstone a straw, a pipe blazing with sparks, came a soft, pleasant voice, like a trickle of water:

Are you the captain, or what? said Tom, turning me towards the fire to examine me. - Wow, what a blue! Frozen?

- Damn it! - I said. - I'm cold and my head is spinning. If your name is Tom, can you explain the whole story?

- What kind of story is this?

Tom spoke slowly, like a quiet, reasonable baby, and therefore it was extremely disgusting to wait until he finished speaking.

- What kind of story is this? Come on, let's have dinner. This will be, I think, the best story for you.

With that, his mouth slammed shut as if a ladder had fallen. He turned and went ashore, making a sign to me with his hand to follow him.

From the shore, we climbed steps arranged in a semicircle into a huge straight alley and walked between rows of gigantic trees. Sometimes a light gleamed to the left and right, showing columns in the depths of tangled plants or a corner of the facade with a massive pattern of cornices. There was a black hill ahead, and as we got closer, it turned out to be a group of human marble figures woven over a colossal bowl into a snow-white group. It was a fountain. The alley went up in steps; more steps - we went further - indicated a turn to the left, I climbed up and passed the arch of the courtyard. In this large space, brightly illuminated on all sides and overhead by large windows, as well as hanging lanterns, I saw a second arch on the first floor, smaller, but sufficient to let the cart through. Behind her it was as bright as day; three doors on different sides, wide open, showed a series of corridors and lamps burning under the ceiling. Leading me into a corner where there seemed to be nowhere left to go, Tom opened the door and I saw a lot of people around the hearths and stoves; steam and heat, laughter and bustle, roar and screams, the clatter of dishes and the splash of water; there were men, teenagers, women, and I seemed to be in a noisy square.

“Wait a minute,” said Tom, “I’ll talk to a man here,” and walked away, lost. Immediately I felt that I was in the way - they pushed me in the shoulder, touched my legs, an unceremonious hand forced me to step aside, and then a woman hit her elbow with her pelvis, and already several people shouted grumpily hastily to get me out of the way. I moved to the side and ran into the cook, who was rushing with a knife in his hand, his eyes flashing like crazy. As soon as he had time to scold me, a fat-legged girl, in a hurry, stretched out on a slippery slab with a basket, and a surf of almonds flew up to my feet; at the same time, three of them, dragging a huge fish, pushed me to one side, the cooks to the other, and furrowed the almonds with a fish tail. It was fun, in a word. I, a fabulously rich man, stood with a handful of gold in my pocket and helplessly looked around, until at last, in a random break of these hurrying, running, screaming people, I seized the moment to run to the far wall, where I sat down on a stool and where Tom found me.

"Come on," he said, wiping his mouth visibly cheerfully. This time it was not far to go; we crossed the corner of the kitchen and through two doors went up into a white corridor, where in a wide room without doors stood several beds and simple tables.

“I don’t think they will interfere with us,” said Tom, and, pulling out a dark bottle from his bosom, he tipped it sedately into his mouth so that it gurgled three times. “Come on, have a drink, and they will bring what you need,” and Tom handed me a bottle.

Indeed, I needed it. So many events happened in two hours, and most importantly, it was all so incomprehensible that my nerves fell. I wasn't myself; rather, I was in the harbor of Lissa and here at the same time, so I had to separate the past from the present with an enlightening sip of wine, the like of which I had never tasted. At this time, an angular man with a constricted face and an upturned nose, in an apron, came. He put a bundle of things on the bed and asked Tom:

- To him, or what?

Tom did not dignify it with an answer, but took the dress and handed it to me, telling me to get dressed.

“You are in rags,” he said, “so we will dress you up.” You made a pretty flight,” Tom added, seeing that I had lowered the gold onto the mattress, which I now had nowhere to put on myself. “Get dressed, have supper and go to bed, and in the morning you can go wherever you want.

The conclusion of this speech reinstated me in my rights, otherwise I was already beginning to think that they would sculpt me, like clay, to sculpt what they please. Both my tutors sat down and watched me get naked. Confused, I forgot about the nasty tattoo and, taking off my shirt, only had time to notice that Tom, his head bent to the side, was working on something very carefully.

Glancing at my bare arm, he ran his finger over it.

- You know everything? he muttered, puzzled, and began to laugh, shamelessly looking into my face. – Sandy! he shouted, shaking my unfortunate hand. - Do you know that you are a guy with a nail ?! That's clever! John, look here, because it says in the most shameless way: "I know everything"!

I stood, half-naked, clutching my shirt to my chest, and was so furious that the cries and laughter of my tutors attracted a bunch of people, and for a long time there were mutual, heated explanations - "what's the matter," - and I just turned around, smiting the scoffers with a look: man ten crowded into the room. There was a din: “This one! Everyone knows! Show me your diploma, young man." “How is tortue sauce made?” "Hey, hey, what's in my hand?" “Listen, sailor, does Tilda love John?” - "Your education, explain the course of the stars and other planets!" - Finally, some filthy girl with a nose as black as a sparrow laid me on both shoulder blades, squeaking: “Daddy, do you know how many three times three?”

I am subject to anger, and if anger has blown my head, it takes a little while, forgetting everything, I rush in the seething darkness of a frantic impulse to crush and beat anything. My rage was terrible. Noticing this, the scoffers parted, someone said: “How pale, poor thing, now it’s clear that he’s thinking about something.” The world turned blue for me, and not knowing how to throw it into the crowd, I grabbed the first thing that came across - a handful of gold, throwing it with such force that half the people ran out, laughing until they dropped. I was already climbing on Tom, who was holding my arms, when suddenly it was quiet: a man of about twenty-two entered, thin and straight, very melancholy and beautifully dressed.

- Who threw the money? he asked dryly.

Everyone was silent, those behind were scurrying about, and Tom, at first embarrassed, but immediately amused, told what the story was.

- In fact, he has these words on his hand, - said Tom, - show your hand, Sandy, what's there, because you were just joking.

The person who entered was the librarian of the owner of Pop's house, which I found out about later.

“Collect money for him,” said Pop, then he came up to me and examined my hand with interest. - Did you write it yourself?

“I would be the ultimate fool,” I said. - I was mocked, drunk, got me drunk.

- So ... but still - maybe it's good to know everything. - The priest, smiling, watched me angrily dress, how I was in a hurry to put on my shoes. Only now, calming down a little, I noticed that these things - jacket, trousers, boots and underwear - were, although of modest cut, but of excellent quality, and, dressing, I felt like a hand in warm soapy foam.

"After you've finished your supper," Pop said, "have Tom send Parker and Parker take you upstairs." Hanover wants to see you, master. You are a sailor, and you must be a brave man,” he added, handing me my collected money.

“I won’t hit you in the face on occasion,” I said, hiding my wealth.

Pop looked at me, I looked at him. Something flickered in his eyes, a spark of unknown considerations. “That's good, yes…” he said, and with a strange look, he left. The spectators have already left; then they led me by the sleeve to the table, Tom pointed to the served dinner. The food was on the plates, but whether it was tasty, I did not understand, although I ate everything. There is no hurry. Tom went out, and left alone, I tried to absorb what was happening along with the food. Sometimes the excitement rose with such force that the spoon did not fall into the mouth. What kind of story did I get into - and what is next for me ?! Or the tramp Bob Percountry was right when he said that "if chance has hooked you on a fork, know that you will fly to another."

When I thought about this, a feeling of resistance flashed through me and the question: “What if, after dinner, I put on a hat, decorously thank everyone and proudly, mysteriously refusing the next, apparently ready to pick up the“ forks ”, go out and return to“ Hispaniola, where for the rest of your life this incident will remain an “accident”, which you can remember for a lifetime, making any assumptions about “could be” and “unexplained beings”. As I imagined it, it was as if the book that made my heart pounding was snatched from my hands in an interesting place. I felt a great anguish, and, indeed, if I were to be told to go home, I would probably lie on the floor and kick my feet in utter desperation.

However, nothing like this was yet to come to me - on the contrary, chance, or whatever you call it, continued to twist its flashing cord, folding it in an intricate loop under my feet. Behind the wall - and, as I said, the room was without a door - it was replaced by a vaulted wide passage - several people, stopping or meeting by chance, were talking, incomprehensible, but interesting - or rather, it was understandable, but I did not know , who are we talking about. The words were:

- Well, again, they say, fell down ?!

- It was the case, they drank. They will sing it, how to give it to drink, or it will get drunk itself.

- Yes, I fell asleep.

- He can't drink. and everyone drinks, such a company.

- And what is this rogue Dige looking at?

- What about her?

- Well, how what! They say they are in great friendship or just cupids, or maybe he will marry her.

“I heard her say: “Your heart is healthy; You, he says, are a very healthy person, not like me.

- So - drink, then you can drink, and everyone knows that the doctor said: “I forbid you wine unconditionally. Whatever you want, even coffee, but you can die from wine, having a heart with a defect.

- A heart with a defect, and tomorrow two hundred people will gather, if not more. We have an order for two hundred. How can you not drink here?

- If I had such a dominatrix, I would drink to celebrate.

- And what? Did you see anything?

– Can you see? In my opinion, chatter, one continuous rumor. Nobody took anything. True, there are some rooms that are closed, but if you go through all the floors, there is nothing anywhere.

Yes, that's why it's a secret.

- Why a secret?

- Fool! Everything will be open tomorrow, you understand? There will be a celebration, it must be done solemnly, and not just a fiddle in your pocket. To have a consistent impression. I heard something, but I won't tell you.

"Will I ask you again?"

They quarreled and parted ways. It had only subsided when Tom's voice was heard; he was answered by the grave voice of an old man. Tom said:

“Everyone here is very curious, and I am perhaps the most curious of all. What's the trouble? They say you thought no one could see you. And he saw - and he swears - Kval; Kval swears that she walked with you from around the corner, where the glass staircase, such a young earwig, and covered her face with a scarf.

Leave it alone, Tom, please. Should I, an old man, start tricks. Qual loves to invent.

Then they came out and came up to me - the satellite came closer than Tom. He stopped at the entrance and said:

- Yes, do not recognize the guy. And his face became different, as he ate. You should have seen how he darkened when you read his early printed poster.

Parker was a lackey - I saw clothes like his in pictures. This grey-haired, cropped, slightly bald, stocky man, in white stockings, a blue tailcoat and an open waistcoat, wore round glasses, slightly screwing up his eyes when he looked over the glasses. The smart wrinkled features of a cheerful old woman, a neat chin and an inner calm flickering through the usual work of her face made me think if the old man was the head manager of the house, which I asked him about. He replied:

I asked if I had offended him in any way.

“No,” he said, “but I'm out of sorts and I'll pick on anything you say to me. So you'd better keep quiet and keep up with me.

Indeed, he walked so quickly, although with a small step, that I followed him with tension.

We went half way through the corridor and turned into a passage where behind the wall, marked with a line of round light holes, there was a spiral staircase. Climbing up it, Parker breathed hoarsely, but also often, but he did not slow down his speed. He opened a door in a deep stone niche, and we found ourselves among spaces that seemed to come together from the lands of splendor - among the intersection of lines of light and depth that rose from surprise. I experienced, although I did not understand it at the time, how the sense of form can be touched, causing strong impressions of space and setting to work, where invisible hands lift the impression itself ever higher and more illumined. This impression of sudden beautiful form was sharp and new. All my thoughts jumped out, becoming what I saw around. I did not suspect that lines, in conjunction with color and light, could smile, stop, hold a breath, change the mood, that they could produce a clouding of attention and a strange uncertainty of the members.

Sometimes I noticed a huge wreath of a marble fireplace, the airy distance of a picture, or precious furniture in the shadow of Chinese monsters. Seeing everything, I caught almost nothing. I didn't remember how we turned, where we went. Looking down, I saw marble carvings of ribbons and flowers. At last Parker stopped, squared his shoulders and, with his chest forward, led me through the huge door. He said:

“The Sandy you wanted to see—here he is—then disappeared. I turned around - he was gone.

“Come here, Sandy,” someone said wearily. I looked around, noticing in a foggy blue, illuminated space from above, full of mirrors, glitter and furniture, several people were sitting on sofas and armchairs with their faces turned to me. They were scattered, forming an irregular circle. Peering to guess who said "come," I rejoiced to see Duroc with Prints; they stood smoking near the fireplace and made signs to me to approach. On the right, in a large rocking chair, a man of about twenty-eight, with a pale, pleasant face, was reclining, wrapped in a plaid, with a bandage on his head. To the left was a woman. Pop was standing next to her. I only glanced at the woman, because I immediately saw that she was very beautiful, and therefore I was embarrassed. I never remembered how the woman was dressed, whoever she was, and now I could only see white sparks in her dark hair and that she was embraced by a beautiful blue pattern of a fragile outline. When I turned away, I saw her face in my mind again, a little long, with a bright little mouth and large eyes that looked as if in shadow.

- Well, tell me, what did you do with my friends? said the wrapped man, grimacing and rubbing his temple. - They, as they arrived on your ship, do not cease to admire your special. My name is Hanover; sit down, Sandy, closer to me.

He pointed out the chair in which I sat down - not immediately, as it kept giving and giving under me, but finally strengthened.

“So,” said Hanover, who smelled faintly of wine, “you love 'the sea and the wind'!”

I was silent.

– Isn’t it true, Dige, what power is in these simple words?! Hanover said to the young lady. They meet like two waves.

Then I noticed the others. They were two elderly people. One is a nervous man with black sideburns, pince-nez with a wide cord. He looked bulging, like a doll, without blinking and somehow strangely twitching his left cheek. His white face in black tank tops, shaved lips that looked slightly pouty, and aquiline nose seemed to be laughing. He sat with his leg bent into a triangle on the knee of the other, holding his upper knee with beautiful matte hands and looking at me with a slight sniff. The other was older, burly, shaved and wearing glasses.

“Waves and squadrons!” - the first of them said loudly, without changing his facial expression and looking at me, in a rumbling bass. – Storms and squalls, braces and double basses, clouds and cyclones; Ceylons, boarding, breeze, monsoon, Smith and Wesson!

The lady laughed. Everyone else smiled, only Duroc remained - with a somewhat gloomy face - indifferent to this joke and, seeing that I broke out, came over to me, sitting between me and Hanover.

“Well,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “Sandy serves her calling the best she can. We're still sailing, huh?

“We’ll sail far,” I said, delighted that I had a protector.

Everyone began to laugh again, then a conversation took place between them, in which I did not understand anything, but I felt that they were talking about me - lightly laughing or seriously - I did not make out. Only a few words, such as "pleasant exception", "colorful figure", "style", I remember in such a strange distortion of meaning that I attributed them to the details of my journey with Duroc and Estamp.

Estamp addressed me, saying:

“Do you remember how you got me drunk?”

- Are you drunk?

- Well, I fell and hit my head on the bench. Confess, - "fire water", "I swear by Lucretia," he cried, - upon my word, he swore by Lucretia! In addition, he “knows everything” - honestly!

This treacherous hint brought me out of the stupid stupor in which I was; I noticed Pop's wicked smile, realizing that he was talking about my hand, and I winced.

It should be mentioned that at this point I was overly excited by the abrupt change in the situation and circumstances, the uncertainty of what kind of people were around and what would happen to me next, as well as the naive but firm confidence that I had to do something special within the walls of this house, otherwise I would not have sat in such a brilliant company. If they don’t tell me what is required of me, so much the worse for them: being late, they may be at risk. I had a high opinion of my powers.

Already I saw myself as part of a story whose ends were hidden. Therefore, without taking a breath, in a choked voice so expressive that every hint hit the target, I stood up and reported:

“If I 'know' anything, it's the following. Take note. I know that I will never make fun of a person if he is my guest and I have previously shared with him one piece and one sip. And most importantly, - here I tore Pop into small pieces with my eyes, like a piece of paper, - I know that I will never blurt out if I see something by chance, until I can figure out if it will please someone.

Having said this, I sat down. The young lady looked at me intently and shrugged her shoulders. Everyone looked at me.

“I like him,” Hanover said, “but don't quarrel, Sandi.

“Look at me,” Duroc said sternly; I looked, saw perfect disapproval, and was glad to sink into the ground. “They joked with you and nothing more. Understand that!

I turned away, looked at Estamp, then at Pope. Estampe, not in the least offended, looked at me with curiosity, then, snapping his fingers, said: "Bah!" - and spoke to an unknown person in glasses. Pop, after waiting for the ridiculous argument to subside, came up to me.

During all this time, like a bird on a branch, I was barely noticeable in relation to all those gathered here, a certain tone, very slowly slipping between them, expressed only by glances and movements of secret dependence, like a cobweb escaping from the hands. Was it a premature influx of nervous strength, which over the years passed into the ability to correctly guess the attitude towards oneself of people for the first time - but I felt very well that Hanuver thinks the same way as the young lady, that Duroc, Pop and Estamp are separated from everyone except Hanuver , a special mood unknown to me and that, on the other hand, a lady, a man in pince-nez and a man in glasses are closer to each other, and the first group walks in a distant circle towards an unknown goal, pretending to remain in place. I am familiar with the refraction of memories - I ascribe a significant part of this nervous picture to the development of further events in which I was involved, but I am convinced that those invisible rays of the state of the state of individuals and groups are stored correctly by the present feeling.

I fell into a gloom at the words of Pop; he has already left.

“Hanuver is talking to you,” Duroc said; getting up, I went to the rocking chair.

Now I got a better look at this man, with shiny, black eyes, a reddish-curly head and a sad face, on which a thin and slightly sick smile appeared of rare beauty. He peered as if he wanted to rummage through my brain, but, apparently, speaking to me, he was thinking about his own, very, perhaps, very obsessive and difficult, since he soon stopped looking at me, speaking with stops:

“So, we thought about this matter and decided, if you want. Go to the Pope, to the library, there you will sort it out ... - he did not finish what to take apart. Do you like him, Pop? I know what you like. If he is a bit of a brawler, then this is not so bad. I myself was like that. Well go. Don't take wine as your attorney, dear di Santillano. A pleasant air kiss is sent to your skipper; everything is fine.

I started off, Hanover smiled, then pressed his lips tightly together and sighed. Duroc approached me again, wanting to say something, when Dige's voice rang out:

“This young man is a bit of a jerk.

I didn't know what she meant by that. Leaving with Pop, I made a general bow and, remembering that I had not said anything to Hanuver, returned. I said, trying not to be solemn, but still my words sounded like a command in a game of soldiers:

“Let me express my sincere gratitude to you. I am very happy with the work, I really like this work. Be healthy.

Then I withdrew, carrying Hanuver's good-natured nod in my eyes and thinking of the young lady with her eyes in shadow. I could now, without any embarrassment, look into her capriciously beautiful face, which had an expression like that of a person who is whispered quickly and secretly in his ear.

IV

We crossed the electric beam, which fell through a high door onto the carpet of an unlit hall, and, passing further along the corridor, got into the library. With difficulty I resisted the desire to walk on my toes - so I seemed to myself loud and out of place in the walls of the mysterious palace. Needless to say, I have never been not only in such buildings, although I read a lot about them, but I have not even been in an ordinary beautifully furnished apartment. I walked with my mouth open. Pop politely directed me, but, apart from "there", "here", did not say anything. Finding ourselves in the library - a round hall, bright from the light of the lights, in glass as fragile as flowers - we began to face each other and stared at each other at a creature new to him. The priest was somewhat confused, but the habit of controlling himself soon loosened his tongue.

- You distinguished yourself, - he said, - stole the ship; nice stuff, to be honest!

- I hardly risked, - I answered, - my skipper, Uncle Gro, must also be not for nothing. Can you tell me why they were in such a hurry?

- There are reasons! Pop led me to a table with books and magazines. “Let's not talk about the library today,” he continued when I sat down. - It is true that I launched everything these days - the material was delayed, but there is no time. Did you know that Duroc and others are delighted? They find you... you... in a word, you are lucky. Have you dealt with books?

“Well,” I said, glad that I could finally surprise this graceful young man. – I read a lot of books. Take, for example, "Rob-Roy" or "The Horror of the Mysterious Mountains"; Then "The Headless Horseman"...

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, “I started talking, but I have to go back. So, Sandy, tomorrow you and I will get down to business, or, better, the day after tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll show you to your room.

“But where am I, and what kind of house is this?”

"Don't be afraid, you're in good hands," Pop said. - The name of the owner is Everest Hanover, I am his main attorney in some special cases. You have no idea what this house is like.

“Could it be,” I cried, “that the chatter on the Melusin is true?

I told Pop about the sailors' conversation that evening.

“I can assure you,” Pop said, “that this is all fiction about Hanuver, but it is true that there is no other house like it on earth. However, perhaps you will see for yourself tomorrow. Come, dear Sandy, you are, of course, accustomed to going to bed early and tired. Get used to the change of fate.

“The unbelievable is happening,” I thought, following him into the corridor adjoining the library, where there were two doors.

“This is where I fit in,” said Pop, pointing to one door and, opening another, added: “And here is your room.” Don't be shy, Sandi, we are all serious people and we never joke about business,” he said, seeing that I, embarrassed, lagged behind. - Do you expect, perhaps, that I will lead you into the gilded halls (and I just thought so)? Not far. Although you will live here well.

Indeed, it was such a calm and large room that I smirked. She did not inspire the confidence that your real property inspires, for example, a penknife, but she embraced the incoming person so pleasantly. So far, I felt like a guest in this excellent space with a mirror, a mirrored cabinet, a carpet and a desk, not to mention other furniture. I followed Pop with a heartbeat. He pushed the door to the right, where a bed and other items of luxurious living were in a narrower space. All this, with exquisite purity and strict amiability, called me to take a last look at Uncle Gro, who was being left behind.

"I think you'll be fine," Pop said, looking around the room. - A little cramped, but there is a library nearby, where you can be as long as you want. You will send for your suitcase tomorrow.

“Oh yes,” I said, giggling nervously. - Perhaps so. And a suitcase and everything.

- Do you have a lot of things? he asked kindly.

- How! I replied. - About five suitcases with collars and tuxedos.

“Five?” He blushed as he moved to the wall by the table, where a cord with a handle hung like a bell. “Look, Sandy, how convenient it will be for you to eat and drink: if you pull the cord once, breakfast will go up the elevator in the wall. Twice - lunch, three times - dinner; tea, wine, coffee, cigarettes you can get anytime using this phone. - He explained to me how to call the phone, then he said into a shiny receiver: - Hello! What? Wow, yeah, there's a new tenant here. - Pop turned to me: - What do you want?

“Nothing yet,” I said breathlessly. - How do they eat in the wall?

- My God! He started when he saw that the bronze clock of the desk indicated 12. - I must go. They don't eat in the wall, of course, but... but the hatch opens and you take it. This is very convenient, both for you and for the servants ... I am definitely leaving, Sandi. So, you are in place, and I am calm. Till tomorrow.

Pop left quickly; even faster I heard his footsteps in the corridor.

V

So, I was left alone.

There was plenty to sit on. I sat down on a soft, alertly springy chair; took a breath. The ticking of the clock carried on meaningful conversation with the silence.

I said, “Yeah, great. It's called getting stuck. Interesting story".

I didn't have the strength to think about anything. As soon as a coherent thought appeared, another thought asked her honor to come out. Everything together resembled the twisting of a woolen thread with the fingers. Damn it! - I said at last, trying at all costs to control myself, and got up, eager to arouse solid firmness in my soul. The result was crumpled and friable. I walked around the room, mechanically noting: - armchair, sofa, table, closet, carpet, picture, closet, mirror. - I looked in the mirror. There was the likeness of a dapper red poppy with blissfully twisted features. They accurately reflected my condition. I walked around the whole room, again looked into the bedroom, several times went up to the door and listened to see if anyone was coming with a new confusion to my soul. But it was quiet.

I have never experienced such silence - settled, indifferent and tiring. In order to somehow build a bridge between myself and new sensations, I took out my wealth, counted the coins - thirty-five gold coins - but I already felt completely wild. My fantasy sharpened to such an extent that I distinctly saw scenes of the most opposite significance. At one time I was the lost heir to a noble family, who for some reason did not yet find it convenient to inform about his greatness. In contrast to this brilliant hypothesis was the suggestion of some gloomy undertaking, and I convinced myself no less thoroughly that as soon as I fell asleep, the bed would dive into a secret ladder, where, by the light of torches, masked men would put poisoned knives to my throat. At the same time, my innate foresight, keeping in mind all the circumstances I heard and noticed, was drawn to discoveries, according to the proverb “strike while the iron is hot.” I suddenly lost all my life experience, filled with new feelings with extremely entertaining tendencies, but nevertheless caused by the unconscious necessity of acting in the spirit of my position. Slightly mad, I went into the library, where there was no one, and went around the rows of cupboards standing perpendicular to the walls. From time to time I pressed something: a tree, a copper nail, a carving of jewelry, chilling at the thought that a secret ladder would be in the place where I stand. Suddenly I heard footsteps, a woman's voice saying, "There's no one," and a man's voice confirming this with a sullen lowing. I was frightened - I darted, clinging to the wall between two cupboards, where I was not yet visible, but if the newcomers had taken five steps in this direction, the new assistant librarian, Sandy Pruel, would have appeared to their eyes, as if in an ambush. I was ready to hide in a nutshell, and the idea of ​​a closet, very large, with a blank door without glass, was perfectly reasonable in this situation. The closet door was not completely closed, so I pulled it off with my nails, thinking at least to stand behind its cover if the closet was full. The closet was supposed to be full—I gave myself a convulsive account of this, and yet it turned out to be empty, salutarily empty. Its depth was sufficient to be close to three. The keys were inside. Without touching them, so as not to jingle, I pulled the door by the inner bar, which instantly lit up the cupboard, like a telephone booth. But there was no telephone, there was nothing. One lacquered geometric void. I did not close the door tightly, again fearing noise, and began, trembling, to listen. All this happened much faster than said, and looking around wildly in my hiding place, I heard the conversation of the people who entered.

The woman was Dige, - with another voice I would not have mixed her slow voice of a special shade, which is useless to convey, due to its inherent cold-blooded musicality. It was not difficult to guess who the man was: we do not forget the voice that stinged us. So Galway and Deege entered.

“I want to take the book,” she said in an emphatic voice. They moved from place to place.

- Yes. So, - she, as if continuing a broken conversation, - this will certainly happen.

- Yes. In pale colors. In the form of cobweb emotional touches. Warm autumn sun.

- If it's not arrogance.

– Am I wrong? Remember, my dear, Richard Bruce. It's so natural to him.

- Certainly. I think through us. But don't tell Thomson. She laughed. Her laugh somehow offended me. - It is more profitable for the future to keep it in the background. We'll pick it out when it's convenient. Finally, we will simply abandon it, since the position has passed to us. Give me some book… just in case… A lovely edition,” Dige continued in the same deliberately loud voice, but after praising the book, she switched back to a restrained tone: “It seemed to me, it must be. Are you sure they're not eavesdropping? Now, I'm worried about... these... these.

- Same as before. All hope is on you, uncle "Vas-is-das." Only he won't do anything. This cinematic house is built in such a conspiratorial way that no Medici ever dreamed of.

- He's going to crash.

- Doesn't get stuck. For this I vouch. His mind is worth mine, in its line.

- Let's go. What did you take?

- I'll look, if not ... You master yourself remarkably by reading such books.

“My angel, crazy Friedrich would never have written his books if he had only read you.

Dige crossed part of the space, heading towards me. Her quick steps, having died down, suddenly sounded, as it seemed to me, almost at the very closet. No matter how new I was in the world of people like the inhabitants of this house, but my subtle hearing, sharpened by the unrest of this day, photographically accurately noted the words spoken and peeled out all the suspicious places from the incomprehensible. It is easy to imagine what could have happened if I were discovered here. As carefully and quickly as I could, I completely closed the cracks in the door and pressed myself into a corner. But the footsteps stopped somewhere else. Not wanting to experience such fear again, I rushed to fumble around, looking for a way out - where! - at least against the wall. And then I noticed to my right, in the direction where the wall was, a narrow metal latch of unknown purpose. I pressed it down, up, to the right, in desperation, with the bold hope that the space would expand - to no avail. Finally, I turned it to the left. And it happened - well, wasn't I right in my most extravagant considerations? - happened what should have happened here. The closet wall silently stepped back, frightening me less, however, than the conversation I had just heard, and I slipped into the brilliance of a narrow, block-long corridor, illuminated by electricity, where there was at least somewhere to run. With furious delight, with both hands, I moved the heavy cut of the wall to its original place, but it moved as if on rollers, and since it was exactly the size of a corridor section, there was no gap left. Consciously, I covered it so as not to open it even to myself. The move is gone. There was a blank wall between me and the library.

VI

This burning of the ships immediately resonated in my heart and mind - my heart turned over, and I saw that I had acted recklessly. There was no reason to try to open the library wall again - before my eyes there was a dead end lined with a square stone that did not understand what Sesame was and did not have points that make you want to click them. I slammed myself. But this chagrin was mixed with a lofty half-fear (let's call the other half jubilation) - to be alone in mysterious forbidden places. If I was afraid of anything, then the only thing - a lot of work to get out of the secret to the obvious; the discovery of me here by the owners of this house, I would immediately soften the story of the overheard conversation and the resulting desire to hide. Even a not very smart person, having heard such a conversation, should have tuned in suspiciously. These people, for the sake of goals - how should I know - what? They were talking secretly, laughing. I must say that in general I considered conspiracies the most normal phenomenon and would be very unpleasantly offended by their absence in a place where everything has to be guessed at; I experienced great pleasure, - more, - deep intimate pleasure, but, thanks to the extremely tense chain of circumstances that pulled me here, it made itself felt, in addition to the rapid rotation of thoughts, also with trembling of hands and knees; even when I opened and then closed my mouth, my teeth clanged like copper money. After standing for a while, I examined this dead end again, trying to establish where and how part of the wall was separated, but I did not notice any gap. I put my ear to it, hearing nothing but the rub against the stone of my ear itself, and of course I didn't knock. I didn't know what was going on in the library. Perhaps I did not wait long, perhaps only five or ten minutes had passed, but, as happens in such cases, my feelings were ahead of time, counting such a period from which it is natural for an impatient soul to move on to action. Always, under all circumstances, no matter how I acted in accord with someone, I kept something for myself and now I also thought that I should use freedom in my own interest, enjoy research to the fullest. As soon as temptation wagged its tail, it was no longer for me to restrain myself from striving with all my being for a stunning temptation. It has long been my passion to wander in unknown places, and I think that the fate of many thieves owes prison bars to this very feeling, which does not care - an attic or a wasteland, wild islands or an unknown alien apartment. Be that as it may, passion woke up, began to play, and I resolutely hurried away.

The corridor was half a meter wide, and perhaps four inches more than that; in height it reached four meters; thus, it appeared as a well, as long as a sidewalk, at the far end of which it was as strange and narrow to look at as into a deep well. In different places of this corridor, to the left and to the right, one could see dark vertical features - doors or third-party passages, freezing in the mute light. The distant end was calling, and I rushed towards the hidden miraculous mysteries.

The walls of the corridor were tiled from bottom to half with brown tiles, the floor was gray and black checkered, and the white vault, like the rest of the walls down to the tiles, at the right distance from each other, gleamed with curved round panes that covered electric lamps. I walked to the first vertical line on the left, mistaking it for a door, but up close I saw that it was a narrow arch, from which a narrow twisted staircase descended into a dark, unknown depth, with through cast-iron steps and copper railings. Leaving the exploration of this place until I had run around as far as possible in order to have some general view for discussing adventures in the future, I hastened to reach the far end of the corridor, glancing at the niches opening on the sides, where I found stairs similar to the first, with this difference that some of them led up. I will not be mistaken if I mark the entire distance from end to end of the passage at 50 feet, and when I swept through the whole distance, I turned around and saw that nothing had changed at the end I had left, therefore, they were not going to catch me.

Now I was at the intersection of the end of the passage with another, exactly like the first, at a right angle. Both to the left and to the right, a new monotonous perspective opened up, still incorrectly marked by the vertical lines of the side niches. Here I was seized, so to speak, by the balance of intention, because in none of the forthcoming sides or wings of the transverse aisle was there anything that distinguished them from one another, nothing that could determine the choice - they were in everything and completely equal. In this case, a button or other similar trifle dropped on the floor is enough for the decision “where to go” to jump out of the viscous equilibrium of impressions. Such a trifle would be an impetus. But, looking in one direction and turning to the opposite, it was equally easy to imagine the right side of the left, the left of the right, or vice versa. Strange to say, I stood motionless, looking around and not suspecting that once a donkey between two haystacks was upset like me. It's like I grew up. I made attempts to move first in one direction, then in the other, and invariably stopped, starting to solve again what had not yet been decided. Is it possible to depict this physical anguish, this strange and dull irritation, which I was aware of even then; hesitating helplessly, I felt the fear begin to creep up, already obscuring my thoughts, that I would always remain standing. Salvation was that I kept my left hand in my jacket pocket, twirling a handful of coins with my fingers. I took one of them and threw it to the left, in order to provoke a decisive effort; she rolled; and I went after her only because I had to pick her up. Having caught up with the coin, I began to overcome the second corridor, doubting whether its end would appear crossed in the same way as where I had barely left, so upset that I could still hear the heartbeat.

However, having come to this end, I saw that I was occupying a position more intricate than before - the passage closed into a dead end, that is, it was evenly cut off by a completely blank wall. I turned back, looking at the openings in the wall, behind which, as before, steps could be discerned descending into the shadows. One of the niches had not iron, but stone steps, five in number; they led to a deaf, tightly closed door, but when I pushed it, it gave way, letting me into the darkness. Lighting a match, I saw that I was standing on a narrow space of four walls surrounded by narrow stairs, with smaller platforms at the top adjoining the passage arches. High above stretched other stairs, connected by cross bridges.