While Darya Pavlovna was speaking, she listened, pressing her lips superciliously.

But what struck me most was the expression of Lizaveta Nikolaevna from the moment Darya Pavlovna had come in.

There was a gleam of hatred and hardly disguised contempt in her eyes.
"Wait one minute, Praskovya Ivanovna, I beg you." Varvara Petrovna detained her, still with the same exaggerated composure.

"Kindly sit down.

I intend to speak out, and your legs are bad.