She wanted to go instantly, . . . to petition, . . . demand. . . But where to go, whom to petition, what to demand—this was what she wanted to hear from me, this was what she wanted to consult me about.
I began by counselling her . . . to have patience. For the first moment there was nothing left to be done but to wait, and, as far as might be, to make inquiries; and to take any decisive step now when the affair had scarcely begun, and hardly yet taken shape, would be simply senseless, irrational. To hope for any success was irrational, even if I had been a person of much more importance and influence, . . . but what could I, a petty official, do? As for her, she was absolutely without any powerful friends. . .
It was no easy matter to make all this plain to her . . . but at last she understood my arguments; she understood, too, that I was not prompted by egoistic feeling, when I showed her the uselessness of all efforts.
'But tell me, Musa Pavlovna,' I began, when she sank at last into a chair (till then she had been standing up, as though on the point of setting off at once to the aid of Baburin), 'how Paramon Semyonitch, at his age, comes to be mixed up in such an affair? I feel sure that there are none but young people implicated in it, like the one who came in yesterday to warn you. . .'
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