I hasten to note here, as briefly as possible, that although Varvara Petrovna had in recent years become exceedingly economical, as they said, and even a bit stingy, still she could on occasion be unsparing of money for charity proper. She was a member of a charitable society in the capital. In a recent famine year she had sent five hundred roubles to Petersburg, to the main committee for the receipt of aid for the victims, and this was talked about in town. Finally, quite recently, before the appointment of the new governor, she had all but established a local ladies' committee to aid the poorest new mothers in our town and in the province. She was severely reproached among us for being ambitious; but the notorious impetuousness of Varvara Petrovna's character, together with her persistence, nearly triumphed over the obstacles; the society was almost set up, and the initial idea broadened more and more in the delighted mind of the foundress: she was already dreaming of establishing a similar committee in Moscow, of gradually expanding its activities through all the provinces. And then, with the sudden change of governors, everything came to a halt; and the new governor's wife, it was said, had already managed to utter in society a few pointed and, above all, apt and sensible objections regarding the supposed impracticability of the basic idea of such a committee, which—with embellishments, of course—had already been passed on to Varvara Petrovna. God alone knows what's hidden in men's hearts, but I suppose it was even with a certain pleasure that Varvara Petrovna now paused at the very gates of the cathedral, knowing that the governor's wife would pass by presently, and then everyone else, and 'let her see for herself how it makes no difference to me what she thinks or what further witticisms she may produce concerning the vanity of my charitable works. Take that, all of you!'
'What is it, my dear, what do you ask?' Varvara Petrovna looked more attentively at the petitioner kneeling before her. The latter looked at her with terribly timid, abashed, but almost adoring eyes, and suddenly smiled with the same strange giggle.
'What is she? Who is she?' Varvara Petrovna glanced around at everyone there with a peremptory and inquisitive look. They were all silent.
'You are unfortunate? You are in need of assistance?'
'I need... I've come...' the 'unfortunate' woman prattled, in a voice breaking with excitement. 'I've come just to kiss your hand...' and she giggled again. With a most childlike look, as when children are being affectionate in order to beg for something, she reached out to seize Varvara Petrovna's hand, but suddenly, as though frightened, she jerked her hands back.
'You've come just for that?' Varvara Petrovna smiled a compassionate smile, but at once quickly took her mother-of-pearl purse from her pocket, took a ten-rouble bill from it, and gave it to the unknown woman. The latter took it. Varvara Petrovna was very interested, and apparently did not consider the unknown woman as some common petitioner.
'Ten roubles she gave her,' someone said in the crowd.
'Your hand, please,' prattled the 'unfortunate' woman, firmly grasping with the fingers of her left hand the corner of the received ten-rouble bill, which was twirling in the wind. Varvara Petrovna frowned slightly for some reason, and with a serious, almost stern, look held out her hand; the woman kissed it adoringly. Her grateful eyes even shone with some sort of rapture. Just at that moment the governor's wife drew near, and the whole crowd of our ladies and senior dignitaries came pouring after her. The governor's wife had unwillingly to stop for a moment in the crush; many people stopped.
'You're shivering; are you cold?' Varvara Petrovna suddenly noticed, and throwing off her cloak, which was caught in midair by the footman, she took from her shoulders her black (far from inexpensive) shawl and with her own hands wrapped it around the bare neck of the still kneeling petitioner.
'But do get up, get up from your knees, I beg you!' The woman got up.
'Where do you live? Doesn't anyone at least know where she lives?' Varvara Petrovna again glanced around impatiently. But the former little crowd was no longer there; she saw familiar society faces gazing at the scene, some with stern surprise, others with sly curiosity and, at the same time, with an innocent desire for a bit of scandal, while still others even began to titter.
'Seems she's one of the Lebyadkins, ma'am,' one good man finally stepped forward to answer Varvara Petrovna's question—our venerable and widely respected merchant Andreev, gray-bearded, bespectacled, in Russian dress, and with a round cylindrical hat which he was now holding in his hands. 'She lives at Filippov's house, on Bogoyavlensky Street.'
'Lebyadkin? Filippov's house? I've heard something... thank you, Nikon Semyonych, but who is this Lebyadkin?'
'They call him a captain—an imprudent man, I'd have to say. And this is his sister right enough. It seems she's escaped from under supervision,' Nikon Semyonych said, lowering his voice and giving Varvara Petrovna a significant look.
'I understand; thank you, Nikon Semyonych. So, my dear, you are Miss Lebyadkin?'
'No, I'm not Miss Lebyadkin.'
'Then perhaps your brother is Lebyadkin?'
'My brother is Lebyadkin.'
'Here's what I'll do, I'll take you with me, my dear, and from my house you will be driven to your family; would you like to come with me?'
'Ah, yes, I would!' Miss Lebyadkin clapped her hands.
'Auntie, auntie! Take me with you, too!' cried the voice of Lizaveta Nikolaevna. I will note that Lizaveta Nikolaevna had come to the liturgy with the governor's wife, and that Praskovya Ivanovna, on doctor's orders, had meanwhile gone for a ride in the carriage, taking Mavriky Nikolaevich along for diversion. Liza suddenly abandoned the governor's wife and sprang over to Varvara Petrovna.
'My dear, you know I'm always glad to have you, but what will your mother say?' Varvara Petrovna began imposingly, but suddenly became confused, seeing Liza's extraordinary agitation.
'Auntie, auntie, I must come with you now,' Liza begged, kissing Varvara Petrovna.
'Ah, forgive me, my dear,
