"'Oï!'.... We were both fairly frightened.
"'Come, Feodósyeitch,' says I, 'come on,' says I,—'let 's see whether he is n't in the house.'
"'Come on,'—says he, 'Vasíly Timofyéitch!' but he himself was as white as clay.
"We entered the house... I was about to pass the store-room, but I glanced and the padlock was hanging open on the hasp, and I pushed the door, but the door was fastened inside.... Feodósyeitch immediately ran round, and peeped in at the window.
"'Vasíly Timofyéitch!' he cries;—'his legs are hanging, his legs ...'
"I ran to the window. And they were his legs, Lukyánitch's legs. And he had hanged himself in the middle of the room.—Well, we sent for the judge.... They took him down from the rope; the rope was tied with twelve knots."
"Well, what did the court say?"
"What did the court say? Nothing. They pondered and pondered what the cause might be. There was no cause. And so they decided that he must have been out of his mind. His head had been aching of late, he had been complaining very frequently of his head...."
I chatted for about half an hour longer with the young fellow, and went away, at last, completely disconcerted. I must confess that I could not look at that rickety house without a secret, superstitious terror.... A month later I quitted my country-seat, and little by little all these horrors, these mysterious encounters, vanished from my mind.