“We did well to come away,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly broke in. “He was in a hurry about some business or other. If he gets out and has a breath of air⁠ ⁠… it is fearfully close in his room.⁠ ⁠… But where is one to get a breath of air here? The very streets here feel like shut-up rooms. Good heavens! what a town!⁠ ⁠… stay⁠ ⁠… this side⁠ ⁠… they will crush you⁠—carrying something. Why, it is a piano they have got, I declare⁠ ⁠… how they push!⁠ ⁠… I am very much afraid of that young woman, too.”

“What young woman, mother?”

“Why, that Sofya Semyonovna, who was there just now.”

“Why?”

“I have a presentiment, Dounia. Well, you may believe it or not, but as soon as she came in, that very minute, I felt that she was the chief cause of the trouble.⁠ ⁠…”