Younger Lisa entered. Opened eyes. There is Lisa, looks.
— Shurenka! — wants to seize her by a hand, well, as then.
And behind a window rustles. The grass is mown? No. What it? The silk dress on a grass-muravke curls.
There was an attack at night — to breathe there is nothing. To air to zaglotnut to it it is more, to breathe is not enough. Opened all windows. Yes night warm, not Spasova.
And she sideways so looked at it — no, does not learn! — also went. And it after. Ran in on a ladder. And it behind it.
And suddenly before it lay — dark, crude — a dark hole.
Ladder dark, slippery. To the very top flew up. There is no course further.