There were in front of me two gloomy dark windows and behind them inside, such strange hidden life. I saw there only fire, burning like a peculiar “fireplace” and unknown figures resembling.⁠ ⁠…

All this was certainly very natural; I saw in her eyes the reflection of my own face. But my feelings were unnatural and not like me. Evidently the depressing influence of the surroundings was beginning to tell on me. I felt definitely fear. I felt as if I were trapped and caged in a strange cage. I felt that I was caught in the wild hurricane of ancient life.

“Do you know⁠ ⁠…” said I-330 , “step out for a moment into the next room.” Her voice came from there⁠—from inside, from behind the dark window-eyes⁠—where the fireplace was blazing.

I went out, sat down. From a shelf on the wall there looked straight into my face, somewhat smiling, a snub-nosed, asymmetrical physiognomy of one of the ancient poets; I think it was Pushkin.