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The porter gave him the necessary information: von Didenitz; Old Goucharno Street, his own house not far from the hotel; lives well, has his own horses, every one knows him. Gomov walked slowly to Old Goucharno Street and found the house. In front of it was a long, grey fence spiked with nails. "No getting over a fence like that," thought Gomov, glancing from the windows to the fence.
Later, when they went out, there was not a soul on the quay; the town with its cypresses looked like a city of the dead, but the sea still roared and broke against the shore; a boat swung on the waves; and in it sleepily twinkled the light of a lantern. They found a cab and drove out to the Oreanda. "Just now in the hall," said Gomov, "I discovered your name written on the board von Didenitz.
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