“If you are to go to the ‘black’ room, all right; I will take you there.” And the old man stuck in his awl and got up; but, on seeing a little girl, he called her to take the old woman to the black room.
Tíkhonovna not only paid no attention to what was being said in her presence and of her, but did not even look or listen. From the time that she entered the house, she was permeated with the feeling of the necessity of working for God and with the other feeling, which had entered her soul, she did not know when, of the necessity of handing the petition. Leaving the clean servant room, she walked over to the deacon’s wife and, bowing, said to her:
“Mother Paramónovna, for Christ’s sake do not forget about my affair! See whether you can’t find a man.”
“What does that woman need?”
“She has suffered insult, and people have advised her to hand a petition to the Tsar.”
“Take her straight to the Tsar!” said the jesting lackey.
“Oh, you fool, you rough fool,” said the old shoemaker. “I will teach you a lesson with this last, then you will know how to grin at old people.”
The lackey began to scold, but the old man, paying no attention to him, took Tíkhonovna to the black room.
Tíkhonovna was glad that she was sent out of the baking-room, and was taken to the black, the coachmen’s room. In the baking-room everything looked clean, and the people were all clean, and Tíkhonovna did not feel at ease there. The black coachmen’s room was more like the inside of a peasant house, and Tíkhonovna was more at home there. The black hut was a dark pine building, twenty by twenty feet, with a large oven, bed places, and hanging-beds, and a newly paved, dirt-covered floor. When