Just as they passed the nunnery the huge hundred-ton bell rang out. Rita crossed herself.

“Our Olga is in that nunnery,” said Sofya Lvovna, and she, too, crossed herself and shuddered.

“Why did she go into the nunnery?” said the Colonel.

“ Par dépit ,” Rita answered crossly, with obvious allusion to Sofya’s marrying Yagitch. “ Par dépit is all the fashion nowadays. Defiance of all the world. She was always laughing, a desperate flirt, fond of nothing but balls and young men, and all of a sudden off she went⁠—to surprise everyone!”

“That’s not true,” said Volodya, turning down the collar of his fur coat and showing his handsome face. “It wasn’t a case of par dépit ; it was simply horrible, if you like. Her brother Dmitri was sent to penal servitude, and they don’t know where he is now. And her mother died of grief.”

He turned up his collar again.

“Olga did well,” he added in a muffled voice. “Living as an adopted child, and with such a paragon as Sofya Lvovna⁠—one must take that into consideration too!”

Sofya Lvovna heard a tone of contempt in his voice, and longed to say something rude to him, but she said nothing. The spirit of defiance came over her again; she stood up again and shouted in a tearful voice:

“I want to go to the early service! Driver, back! I want to see Olga.”