"Sit down, granny! Don't stand up. Sit down here, and take off your wallet," he said.
"There is not enough room to turn around as it is. Take her to the 'black' room," said a woman.
"This comes straight from Madame Chalmé," said a young lackey, pointing to the iris design on Tíkhonovna's peasant coat, "and the pretty stockings and shoes."
He pointed to her leg-rags and bast shoes, which were new, as she had specially put them on for Moscow.
"Parásha, you ought to have such."
"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."