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it is the truth; ask her yourself. I put her iron
to the fire yesterday, and then she gave me the
jam. She only said: ‘Don’t show Njania, she
will scold me for spoiling you.’
‘All right, we shall see to-morrow morning,’
Njania answered; and in the mean time she
shut up Fekluscha in a dark closet, where the
poor thing continued crying for a long while.
The next morning the inquiries began.
Maria Vasiljevna was a needlewoman, who
for many years had been living with the Rajevski
family. She was no bondwoman, and was
treated with much more consideration than the
other servants. She had her own room, where
she took her meals by herself, and was served
from the family table. As a rule, she was very
proud, and did not mix with the other servants.
The family valued her highly, because she was
very clever at her work; ‘she has fairy-fingers,’
they used to say. She might be about forty.
Her face was thin and worn, her eyes unnaturally
large and black. She was not good-looking, but
there was something distinguished about her, and
nobody would have taken her for an ordinary
needlewoman. She was neat and tidy in her
dress, and used to keep her room comfortable,
even with a certain elegance; there were flowers
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