VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  And you, dear soul, are a benefactress to all.  To all alike, to all!  You do favors to people who aren’t even worth your looking at.

MADAM ULANBEKOV. [Sits down] Never mind, my dear.  One must do good to his neighbor.

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  But do they feel that good?  Can they understand, heartless creatures, how great is your condescension to them?

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  It’s all the same to me, my dear!  One must do good for his own sake, for his own soul.  Then I stopped in to see the chief of police, and asked him to make NEGLIGENTOV head-clerk.

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  But, my benefactress, is he worthy?

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  Don’t interrupt!  A strange man, our chief of police!  I ask him, and he says:  “There’s no job!” I say to him:  “You evidently don’t understand who’s asking you?” “Well!” says he, “do you expect me to drive out a good man for your godson?” Churlish fellow!  However, he promised!

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  To think of his hesitating!  I cannot understand how he could even talk back to you.  Here his ill-breeding shows up at once.  Maybe NEGLIGENTOV, because of his life, isn’t worth saying much about; nevertheless, the chief ought to do everything in the world for him for your sake, no matter how worthless a scamp NEGLIGENTOV might be.

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  Don’t you forget that he’s my godson!

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  And for that very reason, benefactress, I add:  he is your godson; well, and that’s all there is to it; the chief of police ought not to listen to any kind of gossip.  And, besides, what things they do say!  They say that he’s utterly worthless, that his uncle got him a court job, but he won’t stay with it.  He was gone a whole week, they say, somewhere or other about three miles down the highroad, near the tavern, fishing.  Yes, and that he is a drunkard beyond his years.  But whose business is it?  He must be worthy of it, since you ask it.

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  I’ve never heard that.  I’ve never seen him drunk; but I spoke to the chief of police on his behalf, because he’s my godson.  I take his mother’s place.

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  I know, benefactress, I know; every one knows that if you take a notion, you, my benefactress, can make a man out of mud; but if you don’t take a notion to do so, he’ll fall into insignificance no matter how brainy he may be.  He’s to blame himself, because he didn’t deserve it!

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  I’m sure I never did any one any harm.

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  Harm?  You, who because of your angelic heart wouldn’t hurt even a fly!  Of course all we mortals are not without sins; you have done many things; you can’t please everybody.  Indeed, to tell the truth, my dear benefactress, there are people enough who complain about you.

MADAM ULANBEKOV.  Who complains about me?  What a lie!

VASILISA PEREGRINOVNA.  It’s impossible for you to know everything, dear benefactress.  And it’s not worth while for you, in your gentility, to trouble yourself about every low-lived person.  And though they do complain, what’s the use of paying attention; are they worth your notice?  Since you do so many good deeds for others, God will forgive you, our benefactress.