Yet I must once more testify that by the morning there was not the least suspicion of Dasha left in Varvara Petrovna's mind, though in reality there never had been any--she had too much confidence in her.

Besides, she could not admit the idea that "Nicolas" could be attracted by her Darya.

Next morning when Darya Pavlovna was pouring out tea at the table Varvara Petrovna looked for a long while intently at her and, perhaps for the twentieth time since the previous day, repeated to herself: "It's all nonsense!" All she noticed was that Dasha looked rather tired, and that she was even quieter and more apathetic than she used to be.

After their morning tea, according to their invariable custom, they sat down to needlework.
Varvara Petrovna demanded from her a full account of her impressions abroad, especially of nature, of the inhabitants, of the towns, the customs, their arts and commerce--of everything she had time to observe.
She asked no questions about the Drozdovs or how she had got on with them.

Dasha, sitting beside her at the work-table helping her with the embroidery, talked for half an hour in her even, monotonous, but rather weak voice.
"Darya!" Varvara Petrovna interrupted suddenly, "is there nothing special you want to tell me ?" "No, nothing," said Dasha, after a moment's thought, and she glanced at Varvara Petrovna with her light-coloured eyes.
"Nothing on your soul, on your heart, or your conscience ?" "Nothing," Dasha repeated, quietly, but with a sort of sullen firmness.
"I knew there wasn't! Believe me, Darya, I shall never doubt you.