She noticed that he used sometimes to talk to Dasha; and, well, she got in such a frantic state that even my life wasn't worth living, my dear.
The doctors have forbidden my being irritated, and I was so sick of their lake they make such a fuss about, it simply gave me toothache, I had such rheumatism.
It's stated in print that the Lake of Geneva does give people the toothache. It's a feature of the place.
Then Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch suddenly got a letter from the countess and he left us at once. He packed up in one day.
They parted in a friendly way, and Liza became very cheerful and frivolous, and laughed a great deal seeing him off; only that was all put on.
When he had gone she became very thoughtful, and she gave up speaking of him altogether and wouldn't let me mention his name.
And I should advise you, dear Varvara Petrovna, not to approach the subject with Liza, you'll only do harm.
But if you hold your tongue she'll begin to talk of it herself, and then you'll learn more.
I believe they'll come together again, if only Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch doesn't put off coming, as he promised."
"I'll write to him at once.
If that's how it was, there was nothing in the quarrel; all nonsense!
And I know Darya too well. It's nonsense!"
"I'm sorry for what I said about Dashenka, I did wrong.
Their conversations were quite ordinary and they talked out loud, too.
But it all upset me so much at the time, my dear.
And Liza, I saw, got on with her again as affectionately as before...."
That very day Varvara Petrovna wrote to Nikolay, and begged him to come, if only one month, earlier than the date he had fixed.
But yet she still felt that there was something unexplained and obscure in the matter.
She pondered over it all the evening and all night.
Praskovya's opinion seemed to her too innocent and sentimental.
"Praskovya has always been too sentimental from the old schooldays upwards," she reflected. "Nicolas is not the man to run away from a girl's taunts.
There's some other reason for it, if there really has been a breach between them.
That officer's here though, they've brought him with them. As a relation he lives in their house.
And, as for Darya, Praskovya was in too much haste to apologise. She must have kept something to herself, which she wouldn't tell me."
By the morning Varvara Petrovna had matured a project for putting a stop once for all to one misunderstanding at least; a project amazing in its unexpectedness.
What was in her heart when she conceived it? It would be hard to decide and I will not undertake to explain beforehand all the incongruities of which it was made up.
I simply confine myself as chronicler to recording events precisely as they happened, and it is not my fault if they seem incredible.
Yet I must once more testify that by the morning there was not the least suspicion of Dasha left in Varvara Petrovna's mind, though in reality there never had been any—she had too much confidence in her.
Besides, she could not admit the idea that "Nicolas" could be attracted by her Darya.
Next morning when Darya Pavlovna was pouring out tea at the table Varvara Petrovna looked for a long while intently at her and, perhaps for the twentieth time since the previous day, repeated to herself:
"It's all nonsense!"
All she noticed was that Dasha looked rather tired, and that she was even quieter and more apathetic than she used to be.
After their morning tea, according to their invariable custom, they sat down to needlework.
Varvara Petrovna demanded from her a full account of her impressions abroad, especially of nature, of the inhabitants, of the towns, the customs, their arts and commerce—of everything she had time to observe.
She asked no questions about the Drozdovs or how she had got on with them.
Dasha, sitting beside her at the work-table helping her with the embroidery, talked for half an hour in her even, monotonous, but rather weak voice.
"Darya!" Varvara Petrovna interrupted suddenly, "is there nothing special you want to tell me?"
"No, nothing," said Dasha, after a moment's thought, and she glanced at Varvara Petrovna with her light-coloured eyes.
"Nothing on your soul, on your heart, or your conscience?"
"Nothing," Dasha repeated, quietly, but with a sort of sullen firmness.
"I knew there wasn't!
Believe me, Darya, I shall never doubt you.
Now sit still and listen.
In front of me, on that chair. I want to see the whole of you.
That's right.
Listen, do you want to be married?"
Dasha responded with a long, inquiring, but not greatly astonished look.
"Stay, hold your tongue.
In the first place there is a very great difference in age, but of course you know better than anyone what nonsense that is.
You're a sensible girl, and there must be no mistakes in your life.