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