But the most alarmed of all was Praskovya Ivanovna herself.

She uttered a scream, got up as far as she could and almost wailed in a lachrymose voice: "Varvara Petrovna, dear, forgive me for my wicked foolishness! Give her some water, somebody." "Don't whimper, please, Praskovya Ivanovna, and leave me alone, gentlemen, please, I don't want any water!" Varvara Petrovna pronounced in a firm though low voice, with blanched lips.
"Varvara Petrovna, my dear," Praskovya Ivanovna went on, a little reassured, "though I am to blame for my reckless words, what's upset me more than anything are these anonymous letters that some low creatures keep bombarding me with; they might write to you, since it concerns you, but I've a daughter!" Varvara Petrovna looked at her in silence, with wide-open eyes, listening with wonder.

At that moment a side-door in the corner opened noiselessly, and Darya Pavlovna made her appearance.

She stood still and looked round.

She was struck by our perturbation.