This was the accustomed white deserted house standing in a desolate tangled garden.

There was no one there on our arrival.

All the doors were open, the sun blazing along the dusty passages.

It was inhabited, just then, I believe, by some artillery officers, but I saw none of them.

Semyonov went off to find the Colonel of the regiment to whom we were to give tea; Marie Ivanovna and I remained in one of the empty rooms, the only sound the buzzing flies.