at seven o’clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But there is one circumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and for which I venture to trouble you, Sofya Semyonovna, to come here. In my opinion money cannot be, indeed it’s unsafe to put it into Katerina Ivanovna’s own hands. The dinner today is a proof of that. Though she has not, so to speak, a crust of bread for tomorrow and … well, boots or shoes, or anything; she has bought today Jamaica rum, and even, I believe, Madeira and … and coffee. I saw it as I passed through. Tomorrow it will all fall upon you again, they won’t have a crust of bread. It’s absurd, really, and so, to my thinking, a subscription ought to be raised so that the unhappy widow should not know of the money, but only you, for instance. Am I right?”
“I don’t know … this is only today, once in her life. … She was so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory. … And she is very sensible … but just as you think and I shall be very, very … they will all be … and God will reward … and the orphans …”
Sonia burst into tears.
“Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you accept for the benefit of your relation the small sum that I am able to spare, from me personally. I am very anxious that my name should not be mentioned in connection with it. Here … having so to speak anxieties of my own, I cannot do more …”
And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note carefully unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped up, muttered something and began taking leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously to the door. She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed, and returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confusion.