“Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave me alone with this⁠ ⁠… young woman. I only want a few words with her, but God knows what they may make of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to repeat anything.⁠ ⁠… You understand what I mean?”

“I understand!” Lebeziatnikov saw the point. “Yes, you are right.⁠ ⁠… Of course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy, but⁠ ⁠… still, you are right. Certainly I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the window and not be in your way⁠ ⁠… I think you are right⁠ ⁠…”

Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe expression, as much as to say, “don’t you make any mistake, madam.” Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

“In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your respected mamma.⁠ ⁠… That’s right, isn’t it? Katerina Ivanovna stands in the place of a mother to you?” Pyotr Petrovitch began with great dignity, though affably.