"The postman brought it when I was there!" exclaimed Peredonov. "I unsealed the letter myself. That means that there's no mistake." His friends looked at him with respect. A letter from a Princess! Peredonov went impetuously from the Summer-garden to Vershina's. He walked quickly and evenly, swinging his arms measuredly and mumbling to himself; his face had no apparent expression of any kind--it was motionless like that of a wound-up doll--and a sort of avid fire gleamed dully in his eyes. * * * * * The day turned out clear and warm. Marta was knitting a sock. Her thoughts were confused and devout. At first she thought about sins, but later she turned her thoughts to something more pleasant and began to reflect about virtues. Her thoughts became over-clouded with drowsiness and assumed the forms of definite images, and proportionately at their comprehensibility ceased to be expressible in words, their chimerical contours increased in clearness. The virtues stood up before her like big pretty dolls in white dresses, all shining and fragrant. They promised her rewards, and keys jingled in their hands, and bridal veils fluttered on their heads. One among them was curious and different from the others. She promised nothing but looked reproachfully, and her lips moved with a noiseless threat; it seemed that if she spoke a word one would feel terrible. Marta guessed that this was Conscience. She was in black, this strange painful visitor, with black eyes, and black hair--and she suddenly began to talk about something very quickly and glibly. She began to resemble Vershina. Marta started, answered something to her question, answered almost unconsciously and then drowsiness again overcame her. Whether it was Conscience, or whether it was Vershina sitting opposite her, talking quickly and glibly but incomprehensibly, smoking something exotic, this person was assertive, quiet and determined that everything should be as she wanted it. Marta tried to look this tedious visitor straight in the eyes but somehow she couldn't--the visitor smiled strangely, grumbled, and her eyes wandered off somewhere and rested on distant, unknown objects, which Marta found fearful to look at.... Loud talk awakened Marta. Peredonov stood in the summer-house and greeted Vershina in a loud voice. Marta looked around in fear. Her heart beat, her eyes were still half-shut, and her thoughts were still wandering, where was Conscience? Or had she not been there at all? And ought she to have been there? "Ah, you've been snoozing there," said Peredonov to her. "You were snoring in all sorts of ways. Now you're a pine."[3] Marta did not understand his pun, but smiled, guessing from the smile on Vershina's lips that something had been said which had to be accepted as amusing. "You ought to be called Sofya," continued Peredonov. "Why?" asked Marta. "Because you're Sonya[4] and not Marta." Peredonov sat down on the bench beside Marta and said: