And he needed some one to look after him indeed, for he sometimes behaved very oddly: in the midst of his exalted sorrow he would begin laughing like any simple peasant.

There were moments when he began to take a humorous tone even about himself.

But there was nothing Varvara Petrovna dreaded so much as a humorous tone.
She was a woman of the classic type, a female Maecenas, invariably guided only by the highest considerations.

The influence of this exalted lady over her poor friend for twenty years is a fact of the first importance.

I shall need to speak of her more particularly, which I now proceed to do.
III There are strange friendships.