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Updated: June 25, 2025
When she saw him she ran to him. He had already reached the dining-room. "Anyone in the house?" he asked. "No one. Natacha has not returned, and..." "Your step-daughter is coming in now. Ask her where she has been, if she has seen the orderlies, and if they said they would return this evening, in case she answers that she has seen them." "Very well, little domovoi doukh.
And to-morrow, madame, embrace her as you always have." "No, not that," she moaned. "Never that. I could not." "Why not?" Matrena did not reply. She wept. He took her in his arms like a child consoling its mother. "Don't cry. Don't cry. All is not lost. Someone did leave the villa this morning." "Oh, little domovoi! How is that? How is that? How did you find that out?"
They were going to dine out of doors this fine night. "Everything goes very well, very well indeed, dear little domovoi," said Matrena. "How glad it is to see you and thank you. If you only knew how I suffered in your absence, I who know how unjust my daughter was to you. But dear Natacha knows now what she owes you. She doesn't doubt your word now, nor your clear intelligence, little angel.
When she said, 'I have forgotten something; I must hurry back, I felt I had not the strength to go a single step. But now I certainly am happy, that weight at least is off my heart, off my heart, dear little domovoi, because of you, because of you." She embraced him, and then ran away, like one possessed, to resume her post near the general.
Truly, my dear little domovoi, that day we had been very near death, but God and the Little Father watched over us." And Matrena Petrovna made the sign of the cross. "All the windows of the house were broken. In all, we escaped with the fright and a visit from the glazier, my little friend, but I certainly believed that all was over." "And Mademoiselle Natacha?" inquired Rouletabille.
See, he is the demon; yes, yes, the little domovoi, the little domovoi. But look out, poor wretch; you don't know what you have done." She turned brusquely toward Koupriane: "Where is the body of Michael Nikolaievitch?" said she. "I wish to see it. I must see it." Feodor Feodorovitch had fallen, as though asleep, upon a chair. Matrena Petrovna dared not approach him.
As for him, he had not hoped that anything would come to pass until toward dawn, the moment, as everyone knows, when deep sleep is most apt to vanquish all watchfulness and all insomnia. And as he waited for that moment he had not budged any more than a Chinese ape or the dear little porcelain domovoi doukh in the garden. Of course it might be that it was not to happen this night.
"If you see him," said Rouletabille, "it is unnecessary to tell him that the general will go for a long promenade among the isles this afternoon, because without fail he would send us an escort of gendarmes." "Papa! A promenade among the islands? Truly? Oh, that is going to be lovely!" Matrena Petrovna sprang to her feet. "Are you mad, my dear little domovoi, actually mad?" "Why? Why? It is fine.
"God!" quavered Matrena. "I don't understand what you mean by your little hole. Explain to me, little domovoi." "Follow me carefully, then," continued Rouletabille, his eyes all the time fixed elsewhere. "The person who wishes to enter sticks through the hole a brass wire that he has already given the necessary curve to and which is fitted on its end with a light point of steel curved inward.
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