all to mean nothing, because of his illness," she added firmly,
raising her eyes.

"What is your name?"

"Sofya Matveyevna, madam."

"Well, then, let me tell you, Sofya Matveyevna, that he is a wretched
and worthless little man.... Good Lord! Do you look upon me as a wicked
woman?"

Sofya Matveyevna gazed open-eyed.

"A wicked woman, a tyrant? Who has ruined his life?"

"How can that be when you are crying yourself, madam?"

Varvara Petrovna actually had tears in her eyes.

"Well, sit down, sit down, don't be frightened. Look me straight in the
face again. Why are you blushing? Dasha, come here. Look at her. What do
you think of her? Her heart is pure...."

And to the amazement and perhaps still greater alarm of Sofya
Matveyevna, she suddenly patted her on the cheek.

"It's only a pity she is a fool. Too great a fool for her age. That's
all right, my dear, I'll look after you. I see that it's all nonsense.
Stay near here for the time. A room shall be taken for you and you shall
have food and everything else from me... till I ask for you."

Sofya Matveyevna stammered in alarm that she must hurry on.

"You've no need to hurry. I'll buy all your books, and meantime you stay
here. Hold your tongue; don't make excuses. If I hadn't come you would
have stayed with him all the same, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't have left him on any account," Sofya Matveyevna brought out
softly and firmly, wiping her tears.

It was late at night when Doctor Salzfish was brought. He was a very
respectable old man and a practitioner of fairly wide experience who had
recently lost his post in the service in consequence of some quarrel
on a point of honour with his superiors. Varvara Petrovna instantly
and actively took him under her protection. He examined the patient
attentively, questioned him, and cautiously pronounced to Varvara
Petrovna that "the sufferer's" condition was highly dubious in
consequence of complications, and that they must be prepared "even for
the worst." Varvara Petrovna, who had during twenty years got
accustomed to expecting nothing serious or decisive to come from Stepan
Trofimovitch, was deeply moved and even turned pale. "Is there really no
hope?"

"Can there ever be said to be absolutely no hope? But..." She did not go
to bed all night, and felt that the morning would never come. As soon
as the patient opened his eyes and returned to consciousness (he was
conscious all the time, however, though he was g