diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:52 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:52 -0700 |
| commit | b7af9b00034114c8c4b0cec4a62605ce3f70b114 (patch) | |
| tree | 038fe2a704e4f10f9ac892b80d3a66c063619b44 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2302-0.txt | 5231 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2302-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 122395 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2302-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 127859 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2302-h/2302-h.htm | 5794 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2000-08-prflk10.txt | 5570 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2000-08-prflk10.zip | bin | 0 -> 120422 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2302-h.htm.2020-07-17 | 5793 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2302.txt | 5274 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2302.zip | bin | 0 -> 122176 bytes |
12 files changed, 27678 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2302-0.txt b/2302-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0bdbbb --- /dev/null +++ b/2302-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5231 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poor Folk + +Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translator: C. J. Hogarth + +Release Date: August, 2000 [EBook #2302] +Last Updated: October 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson + + + + + +POOR FOLK + +By Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translated by C. J. Hogarth + + + + +April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--How happy I was last night--how +immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your +life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight +o’clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like +to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)--I awoke, I say, and, +lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then +suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes--and felt my +very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had +understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner +of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the +cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your +dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me +from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of +me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face +clearly! For there was a time when you and I could see one another +without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a +blessing, my beloved one! At this very moment everything is standing +awry to my eyes, for a man needs only to work late overnight in his +writing of something or other for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, +and the tears to be gushing from them in a way that makes him ashamed to +be seen before strangers. However, I was able to picture to myself your +beaming smile, my angel--your kind, bright smile; and in my heart there +lurked just such a feeling as on the occasion when I first kissed you, +my little Barbara. Do you remember that, my darling? Yet somehow you +seemed to be threatening me with your tiny finger. Was it so, little +wanton? You must write and tell me about it in your next letter. + +But what think you of the plan of the curtain, Barbara? It is a charming +one, is it not? No matter whether I be at work, or about to retire to +rest, or just awaking from sleep, it enables me to know that you are +thinking of me, and remembering me--that you are both well and happy. +Then when you lower the curtain, it means that it is time that I, Makar +Alexievitch, should go to bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it +means that you are saying to me, “Good morning,” and asking me how I am, +and whether I have slept well. “As for myself,” adds the curtain, “I am +altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!” Yes, my heart’s +delight, you see how easy a plan it was to devise, and how much writing +it will save us! It is a clever plan, is it not? And it was my own +invention, too! Am I not cunning in such matters, Barbara Alexievna? + +Well, next let me tell you, dearest, that last night I slept better +and more soundly than I had ever hoped to do, and that I am the more +delighted at the fact in that, as you know, I had just settled into a +new lodging--a circumstance only too apt to keep one from sleeping! This +morning, too, I arose (joyous and full of love) at cockcrow. How good +seemed everything at that hour, my darling! When I opened my window I +could see the sun shining, and hear the birds singing, and smell the air +laden with scents of spring. In short, all nature was awaking to life +again. Everything was in consonance with my mood; everything seemed fair +and spring-like. Moreover, I had a fancy that I should fare well today. +But my whole thoughts were bent upon you. “Surely,” thought I, “we +mortals who dwell in pain and sorrow might with reason envy the birds +of heaven which know not either!” And my other thoughts were similar +to these. In short, I gave myself up to fantastic comparisons. A little +book which I have says the same kind of thing in a variety of ways. For +instance, it says that one may have many, many fancies, my Barbara--that +as soon as the spring comes on, one’s thoughts become uniformly pleasant +and sportive and witty, for the reason that, at that season, the mind +inclines readily to tenderness, and the world takes on a more roseate +hue. From that little book of mine I have culled the following passage, +and written it down for you to see. In particular does the author +express a longing similar to my own, where he writes: + +“Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?” + +And he has written much else, God bless him! + +But tell me, my love--where did you go for your walk this morning? Even +before I had started for the office you had taken flight from your room, +and passed through the courtyard--yes, looking as vernal-like as a +bird in spring. What rapture it gave me to see you! Ah, little Barbara, +little Barbara, you must never give way to grief, for tears are of no +avail, nor sorrow. I know this well--I know it of my own experience. So +do you rest quietly until you have regained your health a little. But +how is our good Thedora? What a kind heart she has! You write that she +is now living with you, and that you are satisfied with what she does. +True, you say that she is inclined to grumble, but do not mind that, +Barbara. God bless her, for she is an excellent soul! + +But what sort of an abode have I lighted upon, Barbara Alexievna? What +sort of a tenement, do you think, is this? Formerly, as you know, I used +to live in absolute stillness--so much so that if a fly took wing +it could plainly be heard buzzing. Here, however, all is turmoil and +shouting and clatter. The PLAN of the tenement you know already. Imagine +a long corridor, quite dark, and by no means clean. To the right a dead +wall, and to the left a row of doors stretching as far as the line of +rooms extends. These rooms are tenanted by different people--by one, +by two, or by three lodgers as the case may be, but in this arrangement +there is no sort of system, and the place is a perfect Noah’s Ark. Most +of the lodgers are respectable, educated, and even bookish people. In +particular they include a tchinovnik (one of the literary staff in some +government department), who is so well-read that he can expound Homer or +any other author--in fact, ANYTHING, such a man of talent is he! Also, +there are a couple of officers (for ever playing cards), a midshipman, +and an English tutor. But, to amuse you, dearest, let me describe these +people more categorically in my next letter, and tell you in detail +about their lives. As for our landlady, she is a dirty little old woman +who always walks about in a dressing-gown and slippers, and never ceases +to shout at Theresa. I myself live in the kitchen--or, rather, in a +small room which forms part of the kitchen. The latter is a very large, +bright, clean, cheerful apartment with three windows in it, and a +partition-wall which, running outwards from the front wall, makes a sort +of little den, a sort of extra room, for myself. Everything in this den +is comfortable and convenient, and I have, as I say, a window to myself. +So much for a description of my dwelling-place. Do not think, dearest, +that in all this there is any hidden intention. The fact that I live in +the kitchen merely means that I live behind the partition wall in that +apartment--that I live quite alone, and spend my time in a quiet fashion +compounded of trifles. For furniture I have provided myself with a +bed, a table, a chest of drawers, and two small chairs. Also, I have +suspended an ikon. True, better rooms MAY exist in the world than +this--much better rooms; yet COMFORT is the chief thing. In fact, I +have made all my arrangements for comfort’s sake alone; so do not for a +moment imagine that I had any other end in view. And since your window +happens to be just opposite to mine, and since the courtyard between us +is narrow and I can see you as you pass,--why, the result is that this +miserable wretch will be able to live at once more happily and with less +outlay. The dearest room in this house costs, with board, thirty-five +roubles--more than my purse could well afford; whereas MY room costs +only twenty-four, though formerly I used to pay thirty, and so had to +deny myself many things (I could drink tea but seldom, and never could +indulge in tea and sugar as I do now). But, somehow, I do not like +having to go without tea, for everyone else here is respectable, and the +fact makes me ashamed. After all, one drinks tea largely to please one’s +fellow men, Barbara, and to give oneself tone and an air of gentility +(though, of myself, I care little about such things, for I am not a +man of the finicking sort). Yet think you that, when all things +needful--boots and the rest--have been paid for, much will remain? Yet I +ought not to grumble at my salary,--I am quite satisfied with it; it is +sufficient. It has sufficed me now for some years, and, in addition, I +receive certain gratuities. + +Well good-bye, my darling. I have bought you two little pots of +geraniums--quite cheap little pots, too--as a present. Perhaps you would +also like some mignonette? Mignonette it shall be if only you will write +to inform me of everything in detail. Also, do not misunderstand the +fact that I have taken this room, my dearest. Convenience and nothing +else, has made me do so. The snugness of the place has caught my fancy. +Also, I shall be able to save money here, and to hoard it against the +future. Already I have saved a little money as a beginning. Nor must +you despise me because I am such an insignificant old fellow that a fly +could break me with its wing. True, I am not a swashbuckler; but perhaps +there may also abide in me the spirit which should pertain to every man +who is at once resigned and sure of himself. Good-bye, then, again, my +angel. I have now covered close upon a whole two sheets of notepaper, +though I ought long ago to have been starting for the office. I kiss +your hands, and remain ever your devoted slave, your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--One thing I beg of you above all things--and that is, that you +will answer this letter as FULLY as possible. With the letter I send you +a packet of bonbons. Eat them for your health’s sake, nor, for the love +of God, feel any uneasiness about me. Once more, dearest one, good-bye. + + + + +April 8th + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do you know, I must quarrel with you. Yes, +good Makar Alexievitch, I really cannot accept your presents, for I know +what they must have cost you--I know to what privations and self-denial +they must have led. How many times have I not told you that I stand in +need of NOTHING, of absolutely NOTHING, as well as that I shall never be +in a position to recompense you for all the kindly acts with which you +have loaded me? Why, for instance, have you sent me geraniums? A little +sprig of balsam would not have mattered so much--but geraniums! Only +have I to let fall an unguarded word--for example, about geraniums--and +at once you buy me some! How much they must have cost you! Yet what a +charm there is in them, with their flaming petals! Wherever did you +get these beautiful plants? I have set them in my window as the most +conspicuous place possible, while on the floor I have placed a bench +for my other flowers to stand on (since you are good enough to enrich me +with such presents). Unfortunately, Thedora, who, with her sweeping and +polishing, makes a perfect sanctuary of my room, is not over-pleased +at the arrangement. But why have you sent me also bonbons? Your letter +tells me that something special is afoot with you, for I find in it so +much about paradise and spring and sweet odours and the songs of birds. +Surely, thought I to myself when I received it, this is as good as +poetry! Indeed, verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, +Makar Alexievitch. And what tender feelings I can read in it--what +roseate-coloured fancies! To the curtain, however, I had never given a +thought. The fact is that when I moved the flower-pots, it LOOPED ITSELF +up. There now! + +Ah, Makar Alexievitch, you neither speak of nor give any account of what +you have spent upon me. You hope thereby to deceive me, to make it +seem as though the cost always falls upon you alone, and that there +is nothing to conceal. Yet I KNOW that for my sake you deny yourself +necessaries. For instance, what has made you go and take the room which +you have done, where you will be worried and disturbed, and where you +have neither elbow-space nor comfort--you who love solitude, and never +like to have any one near you? To judge from your salary, I should think +that you might well live in greater ease than that. Also, Thedora tells +me that your circumstances used to be much more affluent than they are +at present. Do you wish, then, to persuade me that your whole existence +has been passed in loneliness and want and gloom, with never a cheering +word to help you, nor a seat in a friend’s chimney-corner? Ah, kind +comrade, how my heart aches for you! But do not overtask your health, +Makar Alexievitch. For instance, you say that your eyes are over-weak +for you to go on writing in your office by candle-light. Then why do so? +I am sure that your official superiors do not need to be convinced of +your diligence! + +Once more I implore you not to waste so much money upon me. I know +how much you love me, but I also know that you are not rich.... This +morning I too rose in good spirits. Thedora had long been at work; and +it was time that I too should bestir myself. Indeed I was yearning to +do so, so I went out for some silk, and then sat down to my labours. All +the morning I felt light-hearted and cheerful. Yet now my thoughts are +once more dark and sad--once more my heart is ready to sink. + +Ah, what is going to become of me? What will be my fate? To have to be +so uncertain as to the future, to have to be unable to foretell what is +going to happen, distresses me deeply. Even to look back at the past +is horrible, for it contains sorrow that breaks my very heart at the +thought of it. Yes, a whole century in tears could I spend because of +the wicked people who have wrecked my life! + +But dusk is coming on, and I must set to work again. Much else should I +have liked to write to you, but time is lacking, and I must hasten. Of +course, to write this letter is a pleasure enough, and could never be +wearisome; but why do you not come to see me in person? Why do you not, +Makar Alexievitch? You live so close to me, and at least SOME of your +time is your own. I pray you, come. I have just seen Theresa. She was +looking so ill, and I felt so sorry for her, that I gave her twenty +kopecks. I am almost falling asleep. Write to me in fullest detail, both +concerning your mode of life, and concerning the people who live with +you, and concerning how you fare with them. I should so like to know! +Yes, you must write again. Tonight I have purposely looped the curtain +up. Go to bed early, for, last night, I saw your candle burning until +nearly midnight. Goodbye! I am now feeling sad and weary. Ah that +I should have to spend such days as this one has been. Again +good-bye.--Your friend, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--To think that a day like this should have +fallen to my miserable lot! Surely you are making fun of an old man?... +However, it was my own fault--my own fault entirely. One ought not to +grow old holding a lock of Cupid’s hair in one’s hand. Naturally one is +misunderstood.... Yet man is sometimes a very strange being. By all the +Saints, he will talk of doing things, yet leave them undone, and remain +looking the kind of fool from whom may the Lord preserve us!... Nay, I +am not angry, my beloved; I am only vexed to think that I should have +written to you in such stupid, flowery phraseology. Today I went hopping +and skipping to the office, for my heart was under your influence, and +my soul was keeping holiday, as it were. Yes, everything seemed to +be going well with me. Then I betook myself to my work. But with what +result? I gazed around at the old familiar objects, at the old familiar +grey and gloomy objects. They looked just the same as before. Yet +WERE those the same inkstains, the same tables and chairs, that I had +hitherto known? Yes, they WERE the same, exactly the same; so why should +I have gone off riding on Pegasus’ back? Whence had that mood arisen? +It had arisen from the fact that a certain sun had beamed upon me, and +turned the sky to blue. But why so? Why is it, sometimes, that sweet +odours seem to be blowing through a courtyard where nothing of the sort +can be? They must be born of my foolish fancy, for a man may stray so +far into sentiment as to forget his immediate surroundings, and to give +way to the superfluity of fond ardour with which his heart is charged. +On the other hand, as I walked home from the office at nightfall my feet +seemed to lag, and my head to be aching. Also, a cold wind seemed to be +blowing down my back (enraptured with the spring, I had gone out clad +only in a thin overcoat). Yet you have misunderstood my sentiments, +dearest. They are altogether different to what you suppose. It is a +purely paternal feeling that I have for you. I stand towards you in +the position of a relative who is bound to watch over your lonely +orphanhood. This I say in all sincerity, and with a single purpose, +as any kinsman might do. For, after all, I AM a distant kinsman of +yours--the seventh drop of water in the pudding, as the proverb has +it--yet still a kinsman, and at the present time your nearest relative +and protector, seeing that where you had the right to look for help and +protection, you found only treachery and insult. As for poetry, I may +say that I consider it unbecoming for a man of my years to devote his +faculties to the making of verses. Poetry is rubbish. Even boys at +school ought to be whipped for writing it. + +Why do you write thus about “comfort” and “peace” and the rest? I am +not a fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I +been so comfortable as now. Why, then, should I complain in my old age? +I have enough to eat, I am well dressed and booted. Also, I have my +diversions. You see, I am not of noble blood. My father himself was not +a gentleman; he and his family had to live even more plainly than I do. +Nor am I a milksop. Nevertheless, to speak frankly, I do not like my +present abode so much as I used to like my old one. Somehow the latter +seemed more cosy, dearest. Of course, this room is a good one enough; +in fact, in SOME respects it is the more cheerful and interesting of the +two. I have nothing to say against it--no. Yet I miss the room that used +to be so familiar to me. Old lodgers like myself soon grow as attached +to our chattels as to a kinsman. My old room was such a snug little +place! True, its walls resembled those of any other room--I am not +speaking of that; the point is that the recollection of them seems to +haunt my mind with sadness. Curious that recollections should be so +mournful! Even what in that room used to vex me and inconvenience me now +looms in a purified light, and figures in my imagination as a thing to +be desired. We used to live there so quietly--I and an old landlady +who is now dead. How my heart aches to remember her, for she was a good +woman, and never overcharged for her rooms. Her whole time was spent in +making patchwork quilts with knitting-needles that were an arshin [An +ell.] long. Oftentimes we shared the same candle and board. Also she had +a granddaughter, Masha--a girl who was then a mere baby, but must now be +a girl of thirteen. This little piece of mischief, how she used to make +us laugh the day long! We lived together, a happy family of three. Often +of a long winter’s evening we would first have tea at the big round +table, and then betake ourselves to our work; the while that, to amuse +the child and to keep her out of mischief, the old lady would set +herself to tell stories. What stories they were!--though stories less +suitable for a child than for a grown-up, educated person. My word! Why, +I myself have sat listening to them, as I smoked my pipe, until I have +forgotten about work altogether. And then, as the story grew grimmer, +the little child, our little bag of mischief, would grow thoughtful in +proportion, and clasp her rosy cheeks in her tiny hands, and, hiding her +face, press closer to the old landlady. Ah, how I loved to see her at +those moments! As one gazed at her one would fail to notice how the +candle was flickering, or how the storm was swishing the snow about the +courtyard. Yes, that was a goodly life, my Barbara, and we lived it +for nearly twenty years.... How my tongue does carry me away! Maybe +the subject does not interest you, and I myself find it a not +over-easy subject to recall--especially at the present time. +Darkness is falling, and Theresa is busying herself with something or +another. My head and my back are aching, and even my thoughts seem to +be in pain, so strangely do they occur. Yes, my heart is sad today, +Barbara.... What is it you have written to me? “Why do you not come +in PERSON to see me?” Dear one, what would people say? I should have +but to cross the courtyard for people to begin noticing us, and asking +themselves questions. Gossip and scandal would arise, and there would be +read into the affair quite another meaning than the real one. No, little +angel, it were better that I should see you tomorrow at Vespers. That +will be the better plan, and less hurtful to us both. Nor must you chide +me, beloved, because I have written you a letter like this (reading it +through, I see it to be all odds and ends); for I am an old man now, +dear Barbara, and an uneducated one. Little learning had I in my youth, +and things refuse to fix themselves in my brain when I try to learn +them anew. No, I am not skilled in letter-writing, Barbara, and, without +being told so, or any one laughing at me for it, I know that, whenever +I try to describe anything with more than ordinary distinctness, I fall +into the mistake of talking sheer rubbish.... I saw you at your window +today--yes, I saw you as you were drawing down the blind! Good-bye, +goodbye, little Barbara, and may God keep you! Good-bye, my own Barbara +Alexievna!--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--Do not think that I could write to you in a satirical vein, for I +am too old to show my teeth to no purpose, and people would laugh at me, +and quote our Russian proverb: “Who diggeth a pit for another one, the +same shall fall into it himself.” + + + + +April 9th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Are not you, my friend and benefactor, +just a little ashamed to repine and give way to such despondency? And +surely you are not offended with me? Ah! Though often thoughtless in my +speech, I never should have imagined that you would take my words as +a jest at your expense. Rest assured that NEVER should I make sport of +your years or of your character. Only my own levity is at fault; still +more, the fact that I am so weary of life. + +What will such a feeling not engender? To tell you the truth, I had +supposed that YOU were jesting in your letter; wherefore, my heart was +feeling heavy at the thought that you could feel so displeased with +me. Kind comrade and helper, you will be doing me an injustice if for +a single moment you ever suspect that I am lacking in feeling or in +gratitude towards you. My heart, believe me, is able to appraise at +its true worth all that you have done for me by protecting me from my +enemies, and from hatred and persecution. Never shall I cease to pray +to God for you; and, should my prayers ever reach Him and be received of +Heaven, then assuredly fortune will smile upon you! + +Today I am not well. By turns I shiver and flush with heat, and Thedora +is greatly disturbed about me.... Do not scruple to come and see me, +Makar Alexievitch. How can it concern other people what you do? You and +I are well enough acquainted with each other, and one’s own affairs are +one’s own affairs. Goodbye, Makar Alexievitch, for I have come to the +end of all I had to say, and am feeling too unwell to write more. Again +I beg of you not to be angry with me, but to rest assured of my constant +respect and attachment.--Your humble, devoted servant, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +April 12th + +DEAREST MISTRESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I pray you, my beloved, to tell +me what ails you. Every one of your letters fills me with alarm. On the +other hand, in every letter I urge you to be more careful of yourself, +and to wrap up yourself warmly, and to avoid going out in bad weather, +and to be in all things prudent. Yet you go and disobey me! Ah, little +angel, you are a perfect child! I know well that you are as weak as a +blade of grass, and that, no matter what wind blows upon you, you are +ready to fade. But you must be careful of yourself, dearest; you MUST +look after yourself better; you MUST avoid all risks, lest you plunge +your friends into desolation and despair. + +Dearest, you also express a wish to learn the details of my daily life +and surroundings. That wish I hasten to satisfy. Let me begin at +the beginning, since, by doing so, I shall explain things more +systematically. In the first place, on entering this house, one passes +into a very bare hall, and thence along a passage to a mean staircase. +The reception room, however, is bright, clean, and spacious, and is +lined with redwood and metal-work. But the scullery you would not care +to see; it is greasy, dirty, and odoriferous, while the stairs are in +rags, and the walls so covered with filth that the hand sticks fast +wherever it touches them. Also, on each landing there is a medley of +boxes, chairs, and dilapidated wardrobes; while the windows have had +most of their panes shattered, and everywhere stand washtubs filled with +dirt, litter, eggshells, and fish-bladders. The smell is abominable. In +short, the house is not a nice one. + +As to the disposition of the rooms, I have described it to you +already. True, they are convenient enough, yet every one of them has an +ATMOSPHERE. I do not mean that they smell badly so much as that each of +them seems to contain something which gives forth a rank, sickly-sweet +odour. At first the impression is an unpleasant one, but a couple of +minutes will suffice to dissipate it, for the reason that EVERYTHING +here smells--people’s clothes, hands, and everything else--and one grows +accustomed to the rankness. Canaries, however, soon die in this house. A +naval officer here has just bought his fifth. Birds cannot live long +in such an air. Every morning, when fish or beef is being cooked, and +washing and scrubbing are in progress, the house is filled with steam. +Always, too, the kitchen is full of linen hanging out to dry; and since +my room adjoins that apartment, the smell from the clothes causes me not +a little annoyance. However, one can grow used to anything. + +From earliest dawn the house is astir as its inmates rise, walk about, +and stamp their feet. That is to say, everyone who has to go to work +then gets out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken of. Most of the +tea-urns belong to the landlady; and since there are not very many of +them, we have to wait our turn. Anyone who fails to do so will find +his teapot emptied and put away. On the first occasion, that was what +happened to myself. Well, is there anything else to tell you? Already I +have made the acquaintance of the company here. The naval officer took +the initiative in calling upon me, and his frankness was such that he +told me all about his father, his mother, his sister (who is married to +a lawyer of Tula), and the town of Kronstadt. Also, he promised me +his patronage, and asked me to come and take tea with him. I kept the +appointment in a room where card-playing is continually in progress; +and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made to induce me to gamble. +Whether or not my refusal seemed to the company ridiculous I cannot +say, but at all events my companions played the whole evening, and were +playing when I left. The dust and smoke in the room made my eyes ache. +I declined, as I say, to play cards, and was, therefore, requested to +discourse on philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at all--a result +which I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of going there +again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but gambling. +Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his room--though, in +his case, everything is done delicately and with a certain refinement, +so that the thing has something of a retiring and innocent air. + +In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman. In +fact, she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so what do you +think of her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in consumption, +and, with Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the entire staff of the +establishment. Whether or not Phaldoni has any other name I do not know, +but at least he answers to this one, and every one calls him by it. +A red-haired, swine-jowled, snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever +wrangling with Theresa, until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, +life is not overly pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the +household wholly at rest, for always there are people sitting up to +play cards. Sometimes, too, certain things are done of which it would +be shameful for me to speak. In particular, hardened though I am, it +astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES should care to live in this Sodom. +For example, there is a family of poor folk who have rented from the +landlady a room which does not adjoin the other rooms, but is set apart +in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet people they are! Not a sound is +to be heard from them. The father--he is called Gorshkov--is a little +grey-headed tchinovnik who, seven years ago, was dismissed from public +service, and now walks about in a coat so dirty and ragged that it hurts +one to see it. Indeed it is a worse coat even than mine! Also, he is +so thin and frail (at times I meet him in the corridor) that his knees +quake under him, his hands and head are tremulous with some disease +(God only knows what!), and he so fears and distrusts everybody that he +always walks alone. Reserved though I myself am, he is even worse. As +for his family, it consists of a wife and three children. The eldest of +the latter--a boy--is as frail as his father, while the mother--a woman +who, formerly, must have been good looking, and still has a striking +aspect in spite of her pallor--goes about in the sorriest of rags. Also +I have heard that they are in debt to our landlady, as well as that she +is not overly kind to them. Moreover, I have heard that Gorshkov lost +his post through some unpleasantness or other--through a legal suit +or process of which I could not exactly tell you the nature. Yes, they +certainly are poor--Oh, my God, how poor! At the same time, never a +sound comes from their room. It is as though not a soul were living in +it. Never does one hear even the children--which is an unusual thing, +seeing that children are ever ready to sport and play, and if they fail +to do so it is a bad sign. One evening when I chanced to be passing the +door of their room, and all was quiet in the house, I heard through the +door a sob, and then a whisper, and then another sob, as though somebody +within were weeping, and with such subdued bitterness that it tore my +heart to hear the sound. In fact, the thought of these poor people never +left me all night, and quite prevented me from sleeping. + +Well, good-bye, my little Barbara, my little friend beyond price. I have +described to you everything to the best of my ability. All today you +have been in my thoughts; all today my heart has been yearning for you. +I happen to know, dearest one, that you lack a warm cloak. To me too, +these St. Petersburg springs, with their winds and their snow showers, +spell death. Good heavens, how the breezes bite one! Do not be angry, +beloved, that I should write like this. Style I have not. Would that +I had! I write just what wanders into my brain, in the hope that I may +cheer you up a little. Of course, had I had a good education, things +might have been different; but, as things were, I could not have +one. Never did I learn even to do simple sums!--Your faithful and +unchangeable friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +April 25th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today I met my cousin Sasha. To see her +going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly. Moreover, it has reached +me, through a side wind, that she has been making inquiry for me, and +dogging my footsteps, under the pretext that she wishes to pardon me, to +forget the past, and to renew our acquaintance. Well, among other things +she told me that, whereas you are not a kinsman of mine, that she is my +nearest relative; that you have no right whatever to enter into family +relations with us; and that it is wrong and shameful for me to be +living upon your earnings and charity. Also, she said that I must have +forgotten all that she did for me, though thereby she saved both myself +and my mother from starvation, and gave us food and drink; that for two +and a half years we caused her great loss; and, above all things, that +she excused us what we owed her. Even my poor mother she did not spare. +Would that she, my dead parent, could know how I am being treated! +But God knows all about it.... Also, Anna declared that it was solely +through my own fault that my fortunes declined after she had bettered +them; that she is in no way responsible for what then happened; and that +I have but myself to blame for having been either unable or unwilling to +defend my honour. Great God! WHO, then, has been at fault? According to +Anna, Hospodin [Mr.] Bwikov was only right when he declined to marry +a woman who--But need I say it? It is cruel to hear such lies as hers. +What is to become of me I do not know. I tremble and sob and weep. +Indeed, even to write this letter has cost me two hours. At least it +might have been thought that Anna would have confessed HER share in the +past. Yet see what she says!... For the love of God do not be anxious +about me, my friend, my only benefactor. Thedora is over apt to +exaggerate matters. I am not REALLY ill. I have merely caught a little +cold. I caught it last night while I was walking to Bolkovo, to hear +Mass sung for my mother. Ah, mother, my poor mother! Could you but rise +from the grave and learn what is being done to your daughter! + +B. D. + + + + +May 20th + +MY DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--I am sending you a few grapes, which are +good for a convalescent person, and strongly recommended by doctors for +the allayment of fever. Also, you were saying the other day that you +would like some roses; wherefore, I now send you a bunch. Are you at all +able to eat, my darling?--for that is the chief point which ought to +be seen to. Let us thank God that the past and all its unhappiness are +gone! Yes, let us give thanks to Heaven for that much! As for books, I +cannot get hold of any, except for a book which, written in excellent +style, is, I believe, to be had here. At all events, people keep +praising it very much, and I have begged the loan of it for myself. +Should you too like to read it? In this respect, indeed, I feel nervous, +for the reason that it is so difficult to divine what your taste in +books may be, despite my knowledge of your character. Probably you would +like poetry--the poetry of sentiment and of love making? Well, I will +send you a book of MY OWN poems. Already I have copied out part of the +manuscript. + +Everything with me is going well; so pray do not be anxious on my +account, beloved. What Thedora told you about me was sheer rubbish. Tell +her from me that she has not been speaking the truth. Yes, do not fail +to give this mischief-maker my message. It is not the case that I have +gone and sold a new uniform. Why should I do so, seeing that I have +forty roubles of salary still to come to me? Do not be uneasy, my +darling. Thedora is a vindictive woman--merely a vindictive woman. We +shall yet see better days. Only do you get well, my angel--only do you +get well, for the love of God, lest you grieve an old man. Also, who +told you that I was looking thin? Slanders again--nothing but slanders! +I am as healthy as could be, and have grown so fat that I am ashamed +to be so sleek of paunch. Would that you were equally healthy!... Now +goodbye, my angel. I kiss every one of your tiny fingers, and remain +ever your constant friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--But what is this, dearest one, that you have written to me? Why do +you place me upon such a pedestal? Moreover, how could I come and visit +you frequently? How, I repeat? Of course, I might avail myself of the +cover of night; but, alas! the season of the year is what it is, and +includes no night time to speak of. In fact, although, throughout your +illness and delirium, I scarcely left your side for a moment, I cannot +think how I contrived to do the many things that I did. Later, I ceased +to visit you at all, for the reason that people were beginning to notice +things, and to ask me questions. Yet, even so, a scandal has arisen. +Theresa I trust thoroughly, for she is not a talkative woman; but +consider how it will be when the truth comes out in its entirety! What +THEN will folk not say and think? Nevertheless, be of good cheer, my +beloved, and regain your health. When you have done so we will contrive +to arrange a rendezvous out of doors. + + + + +June 1st + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--So eager am I to do something that +will please and divert you in return for your care, for your ceaseless +efforts on my behalf--in short, for your love for me--that I have +decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving into my locker, and +extracting thence the manuscript which I send you herewith. I began it +during the happier period of my life, and have continued it at intervals +since. So often have you asked me about my former existence--about my +mother, about Pokrovski, about my sojourn with Anna Thedorovna, about my +more recent misfortunes; so often have you expressed an earnest desire +to read the manuscript in which (God knows why) I have recorded certain +incidents of my life, that I feel no doubt but that the sending of it +will give you sincere pleasure. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read +it, for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned +its concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am--how this +insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! + +B. D. + +ONE + +UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the +happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here in the +depths of the province of Tula, where my father filled the position of +steward on the vast estates of the Prince P----. Our house was situated in +one of the Prince’s villages, and we lived a quiet, obscure, but happy, +life. A gay little child was I--my one idea being ceaselessly to run +about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a +thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and +my mother with her housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any +lessons--a circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I +would hie me to a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where +the sun could warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my +hands with bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get +blamed afterwards, but I did not care. + +Had it befallen me never to quit that village--had it befallen me to +remain for ever in that spot--I should always have been happy; but fate +ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before my girlhood had +come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years old when we removed +to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to recall the mournful gatherings +before our departure, and to recall how bitterly I wept when the time +came for us to say farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember +throwing myself upon my father’s neck, and beseeching him with tears +to stay in the country a little longer; but he bid me be silent, and +my mother, adding her tears to mine, explained that business matters +compelled us to go. As a matter of fact, old Prince P---- had just died, +and his heirs had dismissed my father from his post; whereupon, since +he had a little money privately invested in St. Petersburg, he bethought +him that his personal presence in the capital was necessary for the +due management of his affairs. It was my mother who told me this. +Consequently we settled here in St. Petersburg, and did not again move +until my father died. + +How difficult I found it to grow accustomed to my new life! At the time +of our removal to St. Petersburg it was autumn--a season when, in the +country, the weather is clear and keen and bright, all agricultural +labour has come to an end, the great sheaves of corn are safely garnered +in the byre, and the birds are flying hither and thither in clamorous +flocks. Yes, at that season the country is joyous and fair, but here +in St. Petersburg, at the time when we reached the city, we encountered +nothing but rain, bitter autumn frosts, dull skies, ugliness, and crowds +of strangers who looked hostile, discontented, and disposed to take +offence. However, we managed to settle down--though I remember that +in our new home there was much noise and confusion as we set the +establishment in order. After this my father was seldom at home, and my +mother had few spare moments; wherefore, I found myself forgotten. + +The first morning after our arrival, when I awoke from sleep, how sad I +felt! I could see that our windows looked out upon a drab space of wall, +and that the street below was littered with filth. Passers-by were few, +and as they walked they kept muffling themselves up against the cold. + +Then there ensued days when dullness and depression reigned supreme. +Scarcely a relative or an acquaintance did we possess in St. Petersburg, +and even Anna Thedorovna and my father had come to loggerheads with one +another, owing to the fact that he owed her money. In fact, our only +visitors were business callers, and as a rule these came but to wrangle, +to argue, and to raise a disturbance. Such visits would make my father +look very discontented, and seem out of temper. For hours and hours he +would pace the room with a frown on his face and a brooding silence on +his lips. Even my mother did not dare address him at these times, +while, for my own part, I used to sit reading quietly and humbly in a +corner--not venturing to make a movement of any sort. + +Three months after our arrival in St. Petersburg I was sent to a +boarding-school. Here I found myself thrown among strange people; here +everything was grim and uninviting, with teachers continually shouting +at me, and my fellow-pupils for ever holding me up to derision, and +myself constantly feeling awkward and uncouth. How strict, how exacting +was the system! Appointed hours for everything, a common table, +ever-insistent teachers! These things simply worried and tortured me. +Never from the first could I sleep, but used to weep many a chill, weary +night away. In the evenings everyone would have to repeat or to learn +her lessons. As I crouched over a dialogue or a vocabulary, without +daring even to stir, how my thoughts would turn to the chimney-corner +at home, to my father, to my mother, to my old nurse, to the tales which +the latter had been used to tell! How sad it all was! The memory of the +merest trifle at home would please me, and I would think and think how +nice things used to be at home. Once more I would be sitting in our +little parlour at tea with my parents--in the familiar little parlour +where everything was snug and warm! How ardently, how convulsively I +would seem to be embracing my mother! Thus I would ponder, until at +length tears of sorrow would softly gush forth and choke my bosom, and +drive the lessons out of my head. For I never could master the tasks of +the morrow; no matter how much my mistress and fellow-pupils might gird +at me, no matter how much I might repeat my lessons over and over to +myself, knowledge never came with the morning. Consequently, I used to +be ordered the kneeling punishment, and given only one meal in the day. +How dull and dispirited I used to feel! From the first my fellow-pupils +used to tease and deride and mock me whenever I was saying my lessons. +Also, they used to pinch me as we were on our way to dinner or tea, and +to make groundless complaints of me to the head mistress. On the other +hand, how heavenly it seemed when, on Saturday evening, my old nurse +arrived to fetch me! How I would embrace the old woman in transports +of joy! After dressing me, and wrapping me up, she would find that +she could scarcely keep pace with me on the way home, so full was I of +chatter and tales about one thing and another. Then, when I had arrived +home merry and lighthearted, how fervently I would embrace my parents, +as though I had not seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would there +be--such a talking and a telling of tales! To everyone I would run with +a greeting, and laugh, and giggle, and scamper about, and skip for +very joy. True, my father and I used to have grave conversations about +lessons and teachers and the French language and grammar; yet we were +all very happy and contented together. Even now it thrills me to think +of those moments. For my father’s sake I tried hard to learn my lessons, +for I could see that he was spending his last kopeck upon me, and +himself subsisting God knows how. Every day he grew more morose and +discontented and irritable; every day his character kept changing for +the worse. He had suffered an influx of debts, nor were his business +affairs prospering. As for my mother, she was afraid even to say a word, +or to weep aloud, for fear of still further angering him. Gradually +she sickened, grew thinner and thinner, and became taken with a painful +cough. Whenever I reached home from school I would find every one +low-spirited, and my mother shedding silent tears, and my father raging. +Bickering and high words would arise, during which my father was wont +to declare that, though he no longer derived the smallest pleasure or +relaxation from life, and had spent his last coin upon my education, I +had not yet mastered the French language. In short, everything began to +go wrong, to turn to unhappiness; and for that circumstance, my father +took vengeance upon myself and my mother. How he could treat my poor +mother so I cannot understand. It used to rend my heart to see her, so +hollow were her cheeks becoming, so sunken her eyes, so hectic her +face. But it was chiefly around myself that the disputes raged. Though +beginning only with some trifle, they would soon go on to God knows +what. Frequently, even I myself did not know to what they related. +Anything and everything would enter into them, for my father would say +that I was an utter dunce at the French language; that the head mistress +of my school was a stupid, common sort of women who cared nothing for +morals; that he (my father) had not yet succeeded in obtaining another +post; that Lamonde’s “Grammar” was a wretched book--even a worse one +than Zapolski’s; that a great deal of money had been squandered upon me; +that it was clear that I was wasting my time in repeating dialogues +and vocabularies; that I alone was at fault, and that I must answer for +everything. Yet this did not arise from any WANT OF LOVE for me on the +part of my father, but rather from the fact that he was incapable of +putting himself in my own and my mother’s place. It came of a defect of +character. + +All these cares and worries and disappointments tortured my poor father +until he became moody and distrustful. Next he began to neglect his +health, with the result that, catching a chill, he died, after a short +illness, so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a few days we were almost +beside ourselves with the shock--my mother, in particular, lying for +a while in such a state of torpor that I had fears for her reason. The +instant my father was dead creditors seemed to spring up out of the +ground, and to assail us en masse. Everything that we possessed had to +be surrendered to them, including a little house which my father had +bought six months after our arrival in St. Petersburg. How matters +were finally settled I do not know, but we found ourselves roofless, +shelterless, and without a copper. My mother was grievously ill, and +of means of subsistence we had none. Before us there loomed only ruin, +sheer ruin. At the time I was fourteen years old. Soon afterwards Anna +Thedorovna came to see us, saying that she was a lady of property and +our relative; and this my mother confirmed--though, true, she added that +Anna was only a very DISTANT relative. Anna had never taken the least +notice of us during my father’s lifetime, yet now she entered our +presence with tears in her eyes, and an assurance that she meant to +better our fortunes. Having condoled with us on our loss and destitute +position, she added that my father had been to blame for everything, in +that he had lived beyond his means, and taken upon himself more than he +was able to perform. Also, she expressed a wish to draw closer to us, +and to forget old scores; and when my mother explained that, for her own +part, she harboured no resentment against Anna, the latter burst into +tears, and, hurrying my mother away to church, then and there ordered +Mass to be said for the “dear departed,” as she called my father. In +this manner she effected a solemn reconciliation with my mother. + +Next, after long negotiations and vacillations, coupled with much +vivid description of our destitute position, our desolation, and our +helplessness, Anna invited us to pay her (as she expressed it) a +“return visit.” For this my mother duly thanked her, and considered the +invitation for a while; after which, seeing that there was nothing +else to be done, she informed Anna Thedorovna that she was prepared, +gratefully, to accept her offer. Ah, how I remember the morning when we +removed to Vassilievski Island! [A quarter of St. Petersburg.] It was a +clear, dry, frosty morning in autumn. My mother could not restrain +her tears, and I too felt depressed. Nay, my very heart seemed to be +breaking under a strange, undefined load of sorrow. How terrible it all +seemed!... + +II + +AT first--that is to say, until my mother and myself grew used to +our new abode--we found living at Anna Thedorovna’s both strange and +disagreeable. The house was her own, and contained five rooms, three of +which she shared with my orphaned cousin, Sasha (whom she had brought up +from babyhood); a fourth was occupied by my mother and myself; and the +fifth was rented of Anna by a poor student named Pokrovski. Although +Anna lived in good style--in far better style than might have been +expected--her means and her avocation were conjectural. Never was she +at rest; never was she not busy with some mysterious something or other. +Also, she possessed a wide and varied circle of friends. The stream of +callers was perpetual--although God only knows who they were, or what +their business was. No sooner did my mother hear the door-bell ring than +off she would carry me to our own apartment. This greatly displeased +Anna, who used again and again to assure my mother that we were too +proud for our station in life. In fact, she would sulk for hours about +it. At the time I could not understand these reproaches, and it was +not until long afterwards that I learned--or rather, I guessed--why +eventually my mother declared that she could not go on living with Anna. +Yes, Anna was a bad woman. Never did she let us alone. As to the exact +motive why she had asked us to come and share her house with her I am +still in the dark. At first she was not altogether unkind to us but, +later, she revealed to us her real character--as soon, that is to say, +as she saw that we were at her mercy, and had nowhere else to go. +Yes, in early days she was quite kind to me--even offensively so, but +afterwards, I had to suffer as much as my mother. Constantly did Anna +reproach us; constantly did she remind us of her benefactions, and +introduce us to her friends as poor relatives of hers whom, out of +goodness of heart and for the love of Christ, she had received into her +bosom. At table, also, she would watch every mouthful that we took; +and, if our appetite failed, immediately she would begin as before, and +reiterate that we were over-dainty, that we must not assume that riches +would mean happiness, and that we had better go and live by ourselves. +Moreover, she never ceased to inveigh against my father--saying that +he had sought to be better than other people, and thereby had brought +himself to a bad end; that he had left his wife and daughter destitute; +and that, but for the fact that we had happened to meet with a kind and +sympathetic Christian soul, God alone knew where we should have laid our +heads, save in the street. What did that woman not say? To hear her was +not so much galling as disgusting. From time to time my mother would +burst into tears, her health grew worse from day to day, and her body +was becoming sheer skin and bone. All the while, too, we had to work--to +work from morning till night, for we had contrived to obtain some +employment as occasional sempstresses. This, however, did not please +Anna, who used to tell us that there was no room in her house for a +modiste’s establishment. Yet we had to get clothes to wear, to provide +for unforeseen expenses, and to have a little money at our disposal in +case we should some day wish to remove elsewhere. Unfortunately, the +strain undermined my mother’s health, and she became gradually weaker. +Sickness, like a cankerworm, was gnawing at her life, and dragging her +towards the tomb. Well could I see what she was enduring, what she was +suffering. Yes, it all lay open to my eyes. + +Day succeeded day, and each day was like the last one. We lived a life +as quiet as though we had been in the country. Anna herself grew quieter +in proportion as she came to realise the extent of her power over us. +In nothing did we dare to thwart her. From her portion of the house +our apartment was divided by a corridor, while next to us (as mentioned +above) dwelt a certain Pokrovski, who was engaged in teaching Sasha the +French and German languages, as well as history and geography--“all the +sciences,” as Anna used to say. In return for these services he received +free board and lodging. As for Sasha, she was a clever, but rude and +uncouth, girl of thirteen. On one occasion Anna remarked to my mother +that it might be as well if I also were to take some lessons, seeing +that my education had been neglected at school; and, my mother joyfully +assenting, I joined Sasha for a year in studying under this Pokrovski. + +The latter was a poor--a very poor--young man whose health would not +permit of his undertaking the regular university course. Indeed, it was +only for form’s sake that we called him “The Student.” He lived in such +a quiet, humble, retiring fashion that never a sound reached us from his +room. Also, his exterior was peculiar--he moved and walked awkwardly, +and uttered his words in such a strange manner that at first I could +never look at him without laughing. Sasha was for ever playing tricks +upon him--more especially when he was giving us our lessons. But +unfortunately, he was of a temperament as excitable as herself. Indeed, +he was so irritable that the least trifle would send him into a frenzy, +and set him shouting at us, and complaining of our conduct. Sometimes he +would even rush away to his room before school hours were over, and sit +there for days over his books, of which he had a store that was +both rare and valuable. In addition, he acted as teacher at another +establishment, and received payment for his services there; and, +whenever he had received his fees for this extra work, he would hasten +off and purchase more books. + +In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was a good, +worthy fellow--more so than any of the people with whom we otherwise +came in contact. My mother in particular had a great respect for him, +and, after herself, he was my best friend. But at first I was just an +overgrown hoyden, and joined Sasha in playing the fool. For hours we +would devise tricks to anger and distract him, for he looked extremely +ridiculous when he was angry, and so diverted us the more (ashamed +though I am now to admit it). But once, when we had driven him nearly +to tears, I heard him say to himself under his breath, “What cruel +children!” and instantly I repented--I began to feel sad and ashamed and +sorry for him. I reddened to my ears, and begged him, almost with tears, +not to mind us, nor to take offence at our stupid jests. Nevertheless, +without finishing the lesson, he closed his book, and departed to his +own room. All that day I felt torn with remorse. To think that we two +children had forced him, the poor, the unhappy one, to remember his hard +lot! And at night I could not sleep for grief and regret. Remorse is +said to bring relief to the soul, but it is not so. How far my grief was +internally connected with my conceit I do not know, but at least I did +not wish him to think me a baby, seeing that I had now reached the age +of fifteen years. Therefore, from that day onwards I began to torture +my imagination with devising a thousand schemes which should compel +Pokrovski to alter his opinion of me. At the same time, being yet shy +and reserved by nature, I ended by finding that, in my present position, +I could make up my mind to nothing but vague dreams (and such dreams +I had). However, I ceased to join Sasha in playing the fool, while +Pokrovski, for his part, ceased to lose his temper with us so much. +Unfortunately this was not enough to satisfy my self-esteem. + +At this point, I must say a few words about the strangest, the most +interesting, the most pitiable human being that I have ever come across. +I speak of him now--at this particular point in these memoirs--for the +reason that hitherto I had paid him no attention whatever, and began to +do so now only because everything connected with Pokrovski had suddenly +become of absorbing interest in my eyes. + +Sometimes there came to the house a ragged, poorly-dressed, grey-headed, +awkward, amorphous--in short, a very strange-looking--little old man. At +first glance it might have been thought that he was perpetually ashamed +of something--that he had on his conscience something which always made +him, as it were, bristle up and then shrink into himself. Such curious +starts and grimaces did he indulge in that one was forced to conclude +that he was scarcely in his right mind. On arriving, he would halt for +a while by the window in the hall, as though afraid to enter; until, +should any one happen to pass in or out of the door--whether Sasha or +myself or one of the servants (to the latter he always resorted the most +readily, as being the most nearly akin to his own class)--he would begin +to gesticulate and to beckon to that person, and to make various signs. +Then, should the person in question nod to him, or call him by name (the +recognised token that no other visitor was present, and that he +might enter freely), he would open the door gently, give a smile of +satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together, and proceed on tiptoe to +young Pokrovski’s room. This old fellow was none other than Pokrovski’s +father. + +Later I came to know his story in detail. Formerly a civil servant, he +had possessed no additional means, and so had occupied a very low +and insignificant position in the service. Then, after his first wife +(mother of the younger Pokrovski) had died, the widower bethought him of +marrying a second time, and took to himself a tradesman’s daughter, who +soon assumed the reins over everything, and brought the home to rack and +ruin, so that the old man was worse off than before. But to the younger +Pokrovski, fate proved kinder, for a landowner named Bwikov, who had +formerly known the lad’s father and been his benefactor, took the boy +under his protection, and sent him to school. Another reason why this +Bwikov took an interest in young Pokrovski was that he had known the +lad’s dead mother, who, while still a serving-maid, had been befriended +by Anna Thedorovna, and subsequently married to the elder Pokrovski. At +the wedding Bwikov, actuated by his friendship for Anna, conferred upon +the young bride a dowry of five thousand roubles; but whither that money +had since disappeared I cannot say. It was from Anna’s lips that I heard +the story, for the student Pokrovski was never prone to talk about his +family affairs. His mother was said to have been very good-looking; +wherefore, it is the more mysterious why she should have made so poor a +match. She died when young--only four years after her espousal. + +From school the young Pokrovski advanced to a gymnasium, [Secondary +school.] and thence to the University, where Bwikov, who frequently +visited the capital, continued to accord the youth his protection. +Gradually, however, ill health put an end to the young man’s university +course; whereupon Bwikov introduced and personally recommended him to +Anna Thedorovna, and he came to lodge with her on condition that he +taught Sasha whatever might be required of him. + +Grief at the harshness of his wife led the elder Pokrovski to plunge +into dissipation, and to remain in an almost permanent condition of +drunkenness. Constantly his wife beat him, or sent him to sit in the +kitchen--with the result that in time, he became so inured to blows +and neglect, that he ceased to complain. Still not greatly advanced +in years, he had nevertheless endangered his reason through evil +courses--his only sign of decent human feeling being his love for his +son. The latter was said to resemble his dead mother as one pea may +resemble another. What recollections, therefore, of the kind helpmeet of +former days may not have moved the breast of the poor broken old man to +this boundless affection for the boy? Of naught else could the father +ever speak but of his son, and never did he fail to visit him twice a +week. To come oftener he did not dare, for the reason that the younger +Pokrovski did not like these visits of his father’s. In fact, there +can be no doubt that the youth’s greatest fault was his lack of filial +respect. Yet the father was certainly rather a difficult person to deal +with, for, in the first place, he was extremely inquisitive, while, in +the second place, his long-winded conversation and questions--questions +of the most vapid and senseless order conceivable--always prevented +the son from working. Likewise, the old man occasionally arrived there +drunk. Gradually, however, the son was weaning his parent from his +vicious ways and everlasting inquisitiveness, and teaching the old man +to look upon him, his son, as an oracle, and never to speak without that +son’s permission. + +On the subject of his Petinka, as he called him, the poor old man could +never sufficiently rhapsodise and dilate. Yet when he arrived to see his +son he almost invariably had on his face a downcast, timid expression +that was probably due to uncertainty concerning the way in which he +would be received. For a long time he would hesitate to enter, and if I +happened to be there he would question me for twenty minutes or so as to +whether his Petinka was in good health, as well as to the sort of +mood he was in, whether he was engaged on matters of importance, what +precisely he was doing (writing or meditating), and so on. Then, when I +had sufficiently encouraged and reassured the old man, he would make up +his mind to enter, and quietly and cautiously open the door. Next, he +would protrude his head through the chink, and if he saw that his son +was not angry, but threw him a nod, he would glide noiselessly into the +room, take off his scarf, and hang up his hat (the latter perennially +in a bad state of repair, full of holes, and with a smashed brim)--the +whole being done without a word or a sound of any kind. Next, the old +man would seat himself warily on a chair, and, never removing his eyes +from his son, follow his every movement, as though seeking to gauge +Petinka’s state of mind. On the other hand, if the son was not in good +spirits, the father would make a note of the fact, and at once get up, +saying that he had “only called for a minute or two,” that, “having been +out for a long walk, and happening at the moment to be passing,” he had +“looked in for a moment’s rest.” Then silently and humbly the old man +would resume his hat and scarf; softly he would open the door, and +noiselessly depart with a forced smile on his face--the better to bear +the disappointment which was seething in his breast, the better to help +him not to show it to his son. + +On the other hand, whenever the son received his father civilly the old +man would be struck dumb with joy. Satisfaction would beam in his face, +in his every gesture, in his every movement. And if the son deigned to +engage in conversation with him, the old man always rose a little from +his chair, and answered softly, sympathetically, with something like +reverence, while strenuously endeavouring to make use of the most +recherche (that is to say, the most ridiculous) expressions. But, alas! +He had not the gift of words. Always he grew confused, and turned red in +the face; never did he know what to do with his hands or with himself. +Likewise, whenever he had returned an answer of any kind, he would go +on repeating the same in a whisper, as though he were seeking to justify +what he had just said. And if he happened to have returned a good +answer, he would begin to preen himself, and to straighten his +waistcoat, frockcoat and tie, and to assume an air of conscious dignity. +Indeed, on these occasions he would feel so encouraged, he would carry +his daring to such a pitch, that, rising softly from his chair, he would +approach the bookshelves, take thence a book, and read over to himself +some passage or another. All this he would do with an air of feigned +indifference and sangfroid, as though he were free ALWAYS to use his +son’s books, and his son’s kindness were no rarity at all. Yet on one +occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale on being told by +his son not to touch the books. Abashed and confused, he, in his awkward +hurry, replaced the volume wrong side uppermost; whereupon, with a +supreme effort to recover himself, he turned it round with a smile and +a blush, as though he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. +Gradually, as already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father +from his dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three +successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes, also, +the younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or a waistcoat; +whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his acquisition as a +peacock. Not infrequently, also, the old man would step in to visit +ourselves, and bring Sasha and myself gingerbread birds or apples, +while talking unceasingly of Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay +attention to our lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an +exemplary son, a son who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after +which he would wink at us so quizzingly with his left eye, and twist +himself about in such amusing fashion, that we were forced to burst out +laughing. My mother had a great liking for him, but he detested Anna +Thedorovna--although in her presence he would be quieter than water and +lowlier than the earth. + +Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now he +thought me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha; and this +hurt me extremely, seeing that I had done so much to expiate my former +behaviour. Of my efforts in this direction no notice had been taken, +and the fact continued to anger me more and more. Scarcely ever did I +address a word to my tutor between school hours, for I simply could +not bring myself to do it. If I made the attempt I only grew red and +confused, and rushed away to weep in a corner. How it would all have +ended I do not know, had not a curious incident helped to bring about +a rapprochement. One evening, when my mother was sitting in Anna +Thedorovna’s room, I crept on tiptoe to Pokrovski’s apartment, in the +belief that he was not at home. Some strange impulse moved me to do so. +True, we had lived cheek by jowl with one another; yet never once had +I caught a glimpse of his abode. Consequently my heart beat loudly--so +loudly, indeed, that it seemed almost to be bursting from my breast. On +entering the room I glanced around me with tense interest. The apartment +was very poorly furnished, and bore few traces of orderliness. On table +and chairs there lay heaps of books; everywhere were books and papers. +Then a strange thought entered my head, as well as, with the thought, an +unpleasant feeling of irritation. It seemed to me that my friendship, +my heart’s affection, meant little to him, for HE was well-educated, +whereas I was stupid, and had learned nothing, and had read not a single +book. So I stood looking wistfully at the long bookshelves where +they groaned under their weight of volumes. I felt filled with grief, +disappointment, and a sort of frenzy. I felt that I MUST read those +books, and decided to do so--to read them one by one, and with all +possible speed. Probably the idea was that, by learning whatsoever HE +knew, I should render myself more worthy of his friendship. So, I made +a rush towards the bookcase nearest me, and, without stopping further +to consider matters, seized hold of the first dusty tome upon which my +hands chanced to alight, and, reddening and growing pale by turns, and +trembling with fear and excitement, clasped the stolen book to my breast +with the intention of reading it by candle light while my mother lay +asleep at night. + +But how vexed I felt when, on returning to our own room, and hastily +turning the pages, only an old, battered worm-eaten Latin work greeted +my eyes! Without loss of time I retraced my steps. Just when I was about +to replace the book I heard a noise in the corridor outside, and the +sound of footsteps approaching. Fumblingly I hastened to complete what +I was about, but the tiresome book had become so tightly wedged into +its row that, on being pulled out, it caused its fellows to close up too +compactly to leave any place for their comrade. To insert the book was +beyond my strength; yet still I kept pushing and pushing at the row. At +last the rusty nail which supported the shelf (the thing seemed to have +been waiting on purpose for that moment!) broke off short; with the +result that the shelf descended with a crash, and the books piled +themselves in a heap on the floor! Then the door of the room opened, and +Pokrovski entered! + +I must here remark that he never could bear to have his possessions +tampered with. Woe to the person, in particular, who touched his books! +Judge, therefore, of my horror when books small and great, books of +every possible shape and size and thickness, came tumbling from the +shelf, and flew and sprang over the table, and under the chairs, and +about the whole room. I would have turned and fled, but it was too late. +“All is over!” thought I. “All is over! I am ruined, I am undone! Here +have I been playing the fool like a ten-year-old child! What a stupid +girl I am! The monstrous fool!” + +Indeed, Pokrovski was very angry. “What? Have you not done enough?” he +cried. “Are you not ashamed to be for ever indulging in such pranks? Are +you NEVER going to grow sensible?” With that he darted forward to pick +up the books, while I bent down to help him. + +“You need not, you need not!” he went on. “You would have done far +better not to have entered without an invitation.” + +Next, a little mollified by my humble demeanour, he resumed in his usual +tutorial tone--the tone which he had adopted in his new-found role of +preceptor: + +“When are you going to grow steadier and more thoughtful? Consider +yourself for a moment. You are no longer a child, a little girl, but a +maiden of fifteen.” + +Then, with a desire (probably) to satisfy himself that I was no longer a +being of tender years, he threw me a glance--but straightway reddened to +his very ears. This I could not understand, but stood gazing at him in +astonishment. Presently, he straightened himself a little, approached +me with a sort of confused expression, and haltingly said +something--probably it was an apology for not having before perceived +that I was now a grown-up young person. But the next moment I +understood. What I did I hardly know, save that, in my dismay and +confusion, I blushed even more hotly than he had done and, covering my +face with my hands, rushed from the room. + +What to do with myself for shame I could not think. The one thought in +my head was that he had surprised me in his room. For three whole days +I found myself unable to raise my eyes to his, but blushed always to +the point of weeping. The strangest and most confused of thoughts kept +entering my brain. One of them--the most extravagant--was that I should +dearly like to go to Pokrovski, and to explain to him the situation, and +to make full confession, and to tell him everything without concealment, +and to assure him that I had not acted foolishly as a minx, but honestly +and of set purpose. In fact, I DID make up my mind to take this course, +but lacked the necessary courage to do it. If I had done so, what a +figure I should have cut! Even now I am ashamed to think of it. + +A few days later, my mother suddenly fell dangerously ill. For two +days past she had not left her bed, while during the third night of her +illness she became seized with fever and delirium. I also had not closed +my eyes during the previous night, but now waited upon my mother, sat by +her bed, brought her drink at intervals, and gave her medicine at duly +appointed hours. The next night I suffered terribly. Every now and then +sleep would cause me to nod, and objects grow dim before my eyes. Also, +my head was turning dizzy, and I could have fainted for very weariness. +Yet always my mother’s feeble moans recalled me to myself as I started, +momentarily awoke, and then again felt drowsiness overcoming me. What +torture it was! I do not know, I cannot clearly remember, but I think +that, during a moment when wakefulness was thus contending with slumber, +a strange dream, a horrible vision, visited my overwrought brain, and +I awoke in terror. The room was nearly in darkness, for the candle was +flickering, and throwing stray beams of light which suddenly illuminated +the room, danced for a moment on the walls, and then disappeared. +Somehow I felt afraid--a sort of horror had come upon me--my imagination +had been over-excited by the evil dream which I had experienced, and a +feeling of oppression was crushing my heart.... I leapt from the chair, +and involuntarily uttered a cry--a cry wrung from me by the terrible, +torturing sensation that was upon me. Presently the door opened, and +Pokrovski entered. + +I remember that I was in his arms when I recovered my senses. Carefully +seating me on a bench, he handed me a glass of water, and then asked me +a few questions--though how I answered them I do not know. “You yourself +are ill,” he said as he took my hand. “You yourself are VERY ill. You +are feverish, and I can see that you are knocking yourself out through +your neglect of your own health. Take a little rest. Lie down and go to +sleep. Yes, lie down, lie down,” he continued without giving me time to +protest. Indeed, fatigue had so exhausted my strength that my eyes +were closing from very weakness. So I lay down on the bench with the +intention of sleeping for half an hour only; but, I slept till morning. +Pokrovski then awoke me, saying that it was time for me to go and give +my mother her medicine. + +When the next evening, about eight o’clock, I had rested a little and +was preparing to spend the night in a chair beside my mother (fixedly +meaning not to go to sleep this time), Pokrovski suddenly knocked at +the door. I opened it, and he informed me that, since, possibly, I +might find the time wearisome, he had brought me a few books to read. I +accepted the books, but do not, even now, know what books they were, nor +whether I looked into them, despite the fact that I never closed my eyes +the whole night long. The truth was that a strange feeling of excitement +was preventing me from sleeping, and I could not rest long in any one +spot, but had to keep rising from my chair, and walking about the +room. Throughout my whole being there seemed to be diffused a kind of +elation--of elation at Pokrovski’s attentions, at the thought that he +was anxious and uneasy about me. Until dawn I pondered and dreamed; and +though I felt sure Pokrovski would not again visit us that night, I gave +myself up to fancies concerning what he might do the following evening. + +That evening, when everyone else in the house had retired to rest, +Pokrovski opened his door, and opened a conversation from the threshold +of his room. Although, at this distance of time, I cannot remember a +word of what we said to one another, I remember that I blushed, grew +confused, felt vexed with myself, and awaited with impatience the end of +the conversation although I myself had been longing for the meeting +to take place, and had spent the day in dreaming of it, and devising +a string of suitable questions and replies. Yes, that evening saw the +first strand in our friendship knitted; and each subsequent night of +my mother’s illness we spent several hours together. Little by little I +overcame his reserve, but found that each of these conversations left me +filled with a sense of vexation at myself. At the same time, I could see +with secret joy and a sense of proud elation that I was leading him to +forget his tiresome books. At last the conversation turned jestingly +upon the upsetting of the shelf. The moment was a peculiar one, for it +came upon me just when I was in the right mood for self-revelation and +candour. In my ardour, my curious phase of exaltation, I found myself +led to make a full confession of the fact that I had become wishful to +learn, to KNOW, something, since I had felt hurt at being taken for a +chit, a mere baby.... I repeat that that night I was in a very strange +frame of mind. My heart was inclined to be tender, and there were +tears standing in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal as I told him about +my friendship for him, about my desire to love him, about my scheme +for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and making his +life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion mingled with +astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I began to feel terribly +pained and disappointed, for I conceived that he had failed to +understand me, or even that he might be laughing at me. Bursting into +tears like a child, I sobbed, and could not stop myself, for I had +fallen into a kind of fit; whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and +clasped it to his breast--saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort +me, for he was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said +I do not remember--I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed, and +found myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my agitation, +I noticed that about him there still lingered an air of constraint +and uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at my enthusiasm and +raptures--at my curiously ardent, unexpected, consuming friendship. It +may be that at first he was amazed, but that afterwards he accepted my +devotion and words of invitation and expressions of interest with the +same simple frankness as I had offered them, and responded to them +with an interest, a friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a +friend or a brother would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my +heart! Nothing had I concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all to his +sight, and each day would see him draw nearer to me. + +Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those painful, +yet rapturous, hours when, by the trembling light of a lamp, and almost +at the very bedside of my poor sick mother, we kept midnight tryst. +Whatsoever first came into our heads we spoke of--whatsoever came riven +from our hearts, whatsoever seemed to call for utterance, found voice. +And almost always we were happy. What a grievous, yet joyous, period it +was--a period grievous and joyous at the same time! To this day it both +hurts and delights me to recall it. Joyous or bitter though it was, its +memories are yet painful. At least they seem so to me, though a certain +sweetness assuaged the pain. So, whenever I am feeling heartsick and +oppressed and jaded and sad those memories return to freshen and revive +me, even as drops of evening dew return to freshen and revive, after a +sultry day, the poor faded flower which has long been drooping in the +noontide heat. + +My mother grew better, but still I continued to spend the nights on +a chair by her bedside. Often, too, Pokrovski would give me books. At +first I read them merely so as to avoid going to sleep, but afterwards I +examined them with more attention, and subsequently with actual avidity, +for they opened up to me a new, an unexpected, an unknown, an unfamiliar +world. New thoughts, added to new impressions, would come pouring +into my heart in a rich flood; and the more emotion, the more pain and +labour, it cost me to assimilate these new impressions, the dearer did +they become to me, and the more gratefully did they stir my soul to +its very depths. Crowding into my heart without giving it time even to +breathe, they would cause my whole being to become lost in a wondrous +chaos. Yet this spiritual ferment was not sufficiently strong wholly to +undo me. For that I was too fanciful, and the fact saved me. + +With the passing of my mother’s illness the midnight meetings and +long conversations between myself and Pokrovski came to an end. Only +occasionally did we exchange a few words with one another--words, for +the most part, that were of little purport or substance, yet words +to which it delighted me to apportion their several meanings, their +peculiar secret values. My life had now become full--I was happy; I was +quietly, restfully happy. Thus did several weeks elapse.... + +One day the elder Pokrovski came to see us, and chattered in a +brisk, cheerful, garrulous sort of way. He laughed, launched out into +witticisms, and, finally, resolved the riddle of his transports by +informing us that in a week’s time it would be his Petinka’s birthday, +when, in honour of the occasion, he (the father) meant to don a new +jacket (as well as new shoes which his wife was going to buy for him), +and to come and pay a visit to his son. In short, the old man was +perfectly happy, and gossiped about whatsoever first entered his head. + +My lover’s birthday! Thenceforward, I could not rest by night or day. +Whatever might happen, it was my fixed intention to remind Pokrovski +of our friendship by giving him a present. But what sort of present? +Finally, I decided to give him books. I knew that he had long wanted to +possess a complete set of Pushkin’s works, in the latest edition; so, +I decided to buy Pushkin. My private fund consisted of thirty roubles, +earned by handiwork, and designed eventually to procure me a new dress, +but at once I dispatched our cook, old Matrena, to ascertain the price +of such an edition. Horrors! The price of the eleven volumes, added to +extra outlay upon the binding, would amount to at least SIXTY roubles! +Where was the money to come from? I thought and thought, yet could not +decide. I did not like to resort to my mother. Of course she would help +me, but in that case every one in the house would become aware of my +gift, and the gift itself would assume the guise of a recompense--of +payment for Pokrovski’s labours on my behalf during the past year; +whereas, I wished to present the gift ALONE, and without the knowledge +of anyone. For the trouble that he had taken with me I wished to be his +perpetual debtor--to make him no payment at all save my friendship. At +length, I thought of a way out of the difficulty. + +I knew that of the hucksters in the Gostinni Dvor one could sometimes +buy a book--even one that had been little used and was almost entirely +new--for a half of its price, provided that one haggled sufficiently +over it; wherefore I determined to repair thither. It so happened that, +next day, both Anna Thedorovna and ourselves were in want of sundry +articles; and since my mother was unwell and Anna lazy, the execution of +the commissions devolved upon me, and I set forth with Matrena. + +Luckily, I soon chanced upon a set of Pushkin, handsomely bound, and +set myself to bargain for it. At first more was demanded than would have +been asked of me in a shop; but afterwards--though not without a great +deal of trouble on my part, and several feints at departing--I induced +the dealer to lower his price, and to limit his demands to ten roubles +in silver. How I rejoiced that I had engaged in this bargaining! Poor +Matrena could not imagine what had come to me, nor why I so desired to +buy books. But, oh horror of horrors! As soon as ever the dealer caught +sight of my capital of thirty roubles in notes, he refused to let the +Pushkin go for less than the sum he had first named; and though, in +answer to my prayers and protestations, he eventually yielded a little, +he did so only to the tune of two-and-a-half roubles more than I +possessed, while swearing that he was making the concession for my sake +alone, since I was “a sweet young lady,” and that he would have done so +for no one else in the world. To think that only two-and-a-half roubles +should still be wanting! I could have wept with vexation. Suddenly an +unlooked-for circumstance occurred to help me in my distress. + +Not far away, near another table that was heaped with books, I perceived +the elder Pokrovski, and a crowd of four or five hucksters plaguing him +nearly out of his senses. Each of these fellows was proffering the old +man his own particular wares; and while there was nothing that they did +not submit for his approval, there was nothing that he wished to buy. +The poor old fellow had the air of a man who is receiving a thrashing. +What to make of what he was being offered him he did not know. +Approaching him, I inquired what he happened to be doing there; whereat +the old man was delighted, since he liked me (it may be) no less than he +did Petinka. + +“I am buying some books, Barbara Alexievna,” said he, “I am buying them +for my Petinka. It will be his birthday soon, and since he likes books I +thought I would get him some.” + +The old man always expressed himself in a very roundabout sort of +fashion, and on the present occasion he was doubly, terribly confused. +Of no matter what book he asked the price, it was sure to be one, two, +or three roubles. The larger books he could not afford at all; he could +only look at them wistfully, fumble their leaves with his finger, turn +over the volumes in his hands, and then replace them. “No, no, that +is too dear,” he would mutter under his breath. “I must go and try +somewhere else.” Then again he would fall to examining copy-books, +collections of poems, and almanacs of the cheaper order. + +“Why should you buy things like those?” I asked him. “They are such +rubbish!” + +“No, no!” he replied. “See what nice books they are! Yes, they ARE nice +books!” Yet these last words he uttered so lingeringly that I could see +he was ready to weep with vexation at finding the better sorts of books +so expensive. Already a little tear was trickling down his pale cheeks +and red nose. I inquired whether he had much money on him; whereupon the +poor old fellow pulled out his entire stock, wrapped in a piece of +dirty newspaper, and consisting of a few small silver coins, with twenty +kopecks in copper. At once I seized the lot, and, dragging him off to my +huckster, said: “Look here. These eleven volumes of Pushkin are priced +at thirty-two-and-a-half roubles, and I have only thirty roubles. Let +us add to them these two-and-a-half roubles of yours, and buy the books +together, and make them our joint gift.” The old man was overjoyed, and +pulled out his money en masse; whereupon the huckster loaded him with +our common library. Stuffing it into his pockets, as well as filling +both arms with it, he departed homewards with his prize, after giving me +his word to bring me the books privately on the morrow. + +Next day the old man came to see his son, and sat with him, as usual, +for about an hour; after which he visited ourselves, wearing on his face +the most comical, the most mysterious expression conceivable. Smiling +broadly with satisfaction at the thought that he was the possessor of a +secret, he informed me that he had stealthily brought the books to our +rooms, and hidden them in a corner of the kitchen, under Matrena’s care. +Next, by a natural transition, the conversation passed to the coming +fête-day; whereupon, the old man proceeded to hold forth extensively +on the subject of gifts. The further he delved into his thesis, and the +more he expounded it, the clearer could I see that on his mind there was +something which he could not, dared not, divulge. So I waited and kept +silent. The mysterious exaltation, the repressed satisfaction which I +had hitherto discerned in his antics and grimaces and left-eyed winks +gradually disappeared, and he began to grow momentarily more anxious and +uneasy. At length he could contain himself no longer. + +“Listen, Barbara Alexievna,” he said timidly. “Listen to what I have got +to say to you. When his birthday is come, do you take TEN of the books, +and give them to him yourself--that is, FOR yourself, as being YOUR +share of the gift. Then I will take the eleventh book, and give it to +him MYSELF, as being my gift. If we do that, you will have a present for +him and I shall have one--both of us alike.” + +“Why do you not want us to present our gifts together, Zachar +Petrovitch?” I asked him. + +“Oh, very well,” he replied. “Very well, Barbara Alexievna. Only--only, +I thought that--” + +The old man broke off in confusion, while his face flushed with the +exertion of thus expressing himself. For a moment or two he sat glued to +his seat. + +“You see,” he went on, “I play the fool too much. I am forever playing +the fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it is wrong to do +so. At home it is often cold, and sometimes there are other troubles +as well, and it all makes me depressed. Well, whenever that happens, I +indulge a little, and occasionally drink too much. Now, Petinka does not +like that; he loses his temper about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds +me, and reads me lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am +mending my ways, and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time +past, I have been saving up to buy him a book--yes, for a long time past +I have been saving up for it, since it is seldom that I have any +money, unless Petinka happens to give me some. He knows that, and, +consequently, as soon as ever he perceives the use to which I have put +his money, he will understand that it is for his sake alone that I have +acted.” + +My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with such +anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. + +“I tell you what,” I said. “Do you give him all the books.” + +“ALL?” he ejaculated. “ALL the books?” + +“Yes, all of them.” + +“As my own gift?” + +“Yes, as your own gift.” + +“As my gift alone?” + +“Yes, as your gift alone.” + +Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to +understand me. + +“Well,” said he after reflection, “that certainly would be +splendid--certainly it would be most splendid. But what about yourself, +Barbara Alexievna?” + +“Oh, I shall give your son nothing.” + +“What?” he cried in dismay. “Are you going to give Petinka nothing--do +you WISH to give him nothing?” So put about was the old fellow with what +I had said, that he seemed almost ready to renounce his own proposal +if only I would give his son something. What a kind heart he had! I +hastened to assure him that I should certainly have a gift of some sort +ready, since my one wish was to avoid spoiling his pleasure. + +“Provided that your son is pleased,” I added, “and that you are pleased, +I shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I shall feel as +though I had presented the gift.” + +This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another couple of +hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept jumping up from +his seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, bestowing stealthy kisses +upon myself, pinching my hands, and making silent grimaces at Anna +Thedorovna. At length, she turned him out of the house. In short, his +transports of joy exceeded anything that I had yet beheld. + +On the festal day he arrived exactly at eleven o’clock, direct from +Mass. He was dressed in a carefully mended frockcoat, a new waistcoat, +and a pair of new shoes, while in his arms he carried our pile of +books. Next we all sat down to coffee (the day being Sunday) in Anna +Thedorovna’s parlour. The old man led off the meal by saying +that Pushkin was a magnificent poet. Thereafter, with a return to +shamefacedness and confusion, he passed suddenly to the statement that +a man ought to conduct himself properly; that, should he not do so, it +might be taken as a sign that he was in some way overindulging himself; +and that evil tendencies of this sort led to the man’s ruin and +degradation. Then the orator sketched for our benefit some terrible +instances of such incontinence, and concluded by informing us that for +some time past he had been mending his own ways, and conducting himself +in exemplary fashion, for the reason that he had perceived the justice +of his son’s precepts, and had laid them to heart so well that he, the +father, had really changed for the better: in proof whereof, he now +begged to present to the said son some books for which he had long been +setting aside his savings. + +As I listened to the old man I could not help laughing and crying in +a breath. Certainly he knew how to lie when the occasion required! The +books were transferred to his son’s room, and arranged upon a shelf, +where Pokrovski at once guessed the truth about them. Then the old man +was invited to dinner and we all spent a merry day together at cards and +forfeits. Sasha was full of life, and I rivalled her, while Pokrovski +paid me numerous attentions, and kept seeking an occasion to speak to me +alone. But to allow this to happen I refused. Yes, taken all in all, it +was the happiest day that I had known for four years. + +But now only grievous, painful memories come to my recollection, for I +must enter upon the story of my darker experiences. It may be that that +is why my pen begins to move more slowly, and seems as though it were +going altogether to refuse to write. The same reason may account for my +having undertaken so lovingly and enthusiastically a recounting of even +the smallest details of my younger, happier days. But alas! those days +did not last long, and were succeeded by a period of black sorrow which +will close only God knows when! + +My misfortunes began with the illness and death of Pokrovski, who was +taken worse two months after what I have last recorded in these memoirs. +During those two months he worked hard to procure himself a livelihood +since hitherto he had had no assured position. Like all consumptives, he +never--not even up to his last moment--altogether abandoned the hope of +being able to enjoy a long life. A post as tutor fell in his way, but he +had never liked the profession; while for him to become a civil servant +was out of the question, owing to his weak state of health. Moreover, in +the latter capacity he would have had to have waited a long time for his +first instalment of salary. Again, he always looked at the darker side +of things, for his character was gradually being warped, and his health +undermined by his illness, though he never noticed it. Then autumn came +on, and daily he went out to business--that is to say, to apply for and +to canvass for posts--clad only in a light jacket; with the result that, +after repeated soakings with rain, he had to take to his bed, and +never again left it. He died in mid-autumn at the close of the month of +October. + +Throughout his illness I scarcely ever left his room, but waited on him +hand and foot. Often he could not sleep for several nights at a time. +Often, too, he was unconscious, or else in a delirium; and at such times +he would talk of all sorts of things--of his work, of his books, of his +father, of myself. At such times I learned much which I had not hitherto +known or divined about his affairs. During the early part of his illness +everyone in the house looked askance at me, and Anna Thedorovna would +nod her head in a meaning manner; but, I always looked them straight in +the face, and gradually they ceased to take any notice of my concern for +Pokrovski. At all events my mother ceased to trouble her head about it. + +Sometimes Pokrovski would know who I was, but not often, for more +usually he was unconscious. Sometimes, too, he would talk all night with +some unknown person, in dim, mysterious language that caused his gasping +voice to echo hoarsely through the narrow room as through a sepulchre; +and at such times, I found the situation a strange one. During his last +night he was especially lightheaded, for then he was in terrible agony, +and kept rambling in his speech until my soul was torn with pity. +Everyone in the house was alarmed, and Anna Thedorovna fell to praying +that God might soon take him. When the doctor had been summoned, the +verdict was that the patient would die with the morning. + +That night the elder Pokrovski spent in the corridor, at the door of his +son’s room. Though given a mattress to lie upon, he spent his time in +running in and out of the apartment. So broken with grief was he that +he presented a dreadful spectacle, and appeared to have lost both +perception and feeling. His head trembled with agony, and his body +quivered from head to foot as at times he murmured to himself something +which he appeared to be debating. Every moment I expected to see him go +out of his mind. Just before dawn he succumbed to the stress of mental +agony, and fell asleep on his mattress like a man who has been beaten; +but by eight o’clock the son was at the point of death, and I ran to +wake the father. The dying man was quite conscious, and bid us all +farewell. Somehow I could not weep, though my heart seemed to be +breaking. + +The last moments were the most harassing and heartbreaking of all. For +some time past Pokrovski had been asking for something with his failing +tongue, but I had been unable to distinguish his words. Yet my heart had +been bursting with grief. Then for an hour he had lain quieter, except +that he had looked sadly in my direction, and striven to make some sign +with his death-cold hands. At last he again essayed his piteous request +in a hoarse, deep voice, but the words issued in so many inarticulate +sounds, and once more I failed to divine his meaning. By turns I brought +each member of the household to his bedside, and gave him something to +drink, but he only shook his head sorrowfully. Finally, I understood +what it was he wanted. He was asking me to draw aside the curtain from +the window, and to open the casements. Probably he wished to take his +last look at the daylight and the sun and all God’s world. I pulled back +the curtain, but the opening day was as dull and mournful--looking as +though it had been the fast-flickering life of the poor invalid. Of +sunshine there was none. Clouds overlaid the sky as with a shroud of +mist, and everything looked sad, rainy, and threatening under a fine +drizzle which was beating against the window-panes, and streaking their +dull, dark surfaces with runlets of cold, dirty moisture. Only a scanty +modicum of daylight entered to war with the trembling rays of the ikon +lamp. The dying man threw me a wistful look, and nodded. The next moment +he had passed away. + +The funeral was arranged for by Anna Thedorovna. A plain coffin was +bought, and a broken-down hearse hired; while, as security for +this outlay, she seized the dead man’s books and other articles. +Nevertheless, the old man disputed the books with her, and, raising an +uproar, carried off as many of them as he could--stuffing his pockets +full, and even filling his hat. Indeed, he spent the next three days +with them thus, and refused to let them leave his sight even when it was +time for him to go to church. Throughout he acted like a man bereft +of sense and memory. With quaint assiduity he busied himself about the +bier--now straightening the candlestick on the dead man’s breast, now +snuffing and lighting the other candles. Clearly his thoughts were +powerless to remain long fixed on any subject. Neither my mother nor +Anna Thedorovna were present at the requiem, for the former was ill +and the latter was at loggerheads with the old man. Only myself and +the father were there. During the service a sort of panic, a sort of +premonition of the future, came over me, and I could hardly hold myself +upright. At length the coffin had received its burden and was screwed +down; after which the bearers placed it upon a bier, and set out. I +accompanied the cortège only to the end of the street. Here the +driver broke into a trot, and the old man started to run behind the +hearse--sobbing loudly, but with the motion of his running ever and anon +causing the sobs to quaver and become broken off. Next he lost his hat, +the poor old fellow, yet would not stop to pick it up, even though the +rain was beating upon his head, and a wind was rising and the sleet kept +stinging and lashing his face. It seemed as though he were impervious +to the cruel elements as he ran from one side of the hearse to the +other--the skirts of his old greatcoat flapping about him like a pair +of wings. From every pocket of the garment protruded books, while in his +hand he carried a specially large volume, which he hugged closely to his +breast. The passers-by uncovered their heads and crossed themselves as +the cortège passed, and some of them, having done so, remained staring +in amazement at the poor old man. Every now and then a book would slip +from one of his pockets and fall into the mud; whereupon somebody, +stopping him, would direct his attention to his loss, and he would stop, +pick up the book, and again set off in pursuit of the hearse. At the +corner of the street he was joined by a ragged old woman; until at +length the hearse turned a corner, and became hidden from my eyes. Then +I went home, and threw myself, in a transport of grief, upon my mother’s +breast--clasping her in my arms, kissing her amid a storm of sobs and +tears, and clinging to her form as though in my embraces I were holding +my last friend on earth, that I might preserve her from death. Yet +already death was standing over her.... + + + + +June 11th + +How I thank you for our walk to the Islands yesterday, Makar +Alexievitch! How fresh and pleasant, how full of verdure, was +everything! And I had not seen anything green for such a long time! +During my illness I used to think that I should never get better, that +I was certainly going to die. Judge, then, how I felt yesterday! True, +I may have seemed to you a little sad, and you must not be angry with me +for that. Happy and light-hearted though I was, there were moments, even +at the height of my felicity, when, for some unknown reason, depression +came sweeping over my soul. I kept weeping about trifles, yet could not +say why I was grieved. The truth is that I am unwell--so much so, that +I look at everything from the gloomy point of view. The pale, clear sky, +the setting sun, the evening stillness--ah, somehow I felt disposed +to grieve and feel hurt at these things; my heart seemed to be +over-charged, and to be calling for tears to relieve it. But why should +I write this to you? It is difficult for my heart to express itself; +still more difficult for it to forego self-expression. Yet possibly +you may understand me. Tears and laughter!... How good you are, Makar +Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked into my eyes as though you could +read in them all that I was feeling--as though you were rejoicing at my +happiness. Whether it were a group of shrubs or an alleyway or a vista +of water that we were passing, you would halt before me, and stand +gazing at my face as though you were showing me possessions of your own. +It told me how kind is your nature, and I love you for it. Today I am +again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and took a chill. Thedora +also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do not forget me. Come and see me +as often as you can.--Your own, + +BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. + + + + +June 12th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--I had supposed that you meant to describe +our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there has arrived +only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must say that, little +though you have put into your letter, that little is not expressed with +rare beauty and grace. Nature, your descriptions of rural scenes, your +analysis of your own feelings--the whole is beautifully written. Alas, +I have no such talent! Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing comes +of it--I might as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I know +from experience. + +You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not harm +my fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness of God +(as expressed in nature’s handiwork), and so on. It may all be so, my +dearest one--it may all be exactly as you say. Indeed, I think that you +are right. But if so, the reason is that when one reads such a letter +as you have just sent me, one’s heart involuntarily softens, and +affords entrance to thoughts of a graver and weightier order. Listen, my +darling; I have something to tell you, my beloved one. + +I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and first +entered the service--though I shall soon have completed my thirtieth +year of official activity. I may say that at first I was much pleased +with my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I grew in mind, and fell +to studying my fellow-men. Likewise I may say that I lived an upright +life--so much so that at last I incurred persecution. This you may not +believe, but it is true. To think that men so cruel should exist! For +though, dearest one, I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like +everyone else. Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I +tell you what these cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell +it you--and all because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured +disposition! Things began with “this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your +fault.” Then it went on to “I need hardly say that the fault is wholly Makar +Alexievitch’s.” Finally it became “OF COURSE Makar Alexievitch is to +blame.” Do you see the sequence of things, my darling? Every mistake +was attributed to me, until “Makar Alexievitch” became a byword in our +department. Also, while making of me a proverb, these fellows could not +give me a smile or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with +my uniform, with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to +their taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from +that day to this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can +grow accustomed to anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable +disposition, like all men of small stature)--yet why should these things +be? Whom have I harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted? Whom have I ever +traduced to his superiors? No, the fault is that more than once I have +asked for an increase of salary. But have I ever CABALLED for it? No, +you would be wrong in thinking so, my dearest one. HOW could I ever +have done so? You yourself have had many opportunities of seeing how +incapable I am of deceit or chicanery. Why then, should this have fallen +to my lot?... However, since you think me worthy of respect, my darling, +I do not care, for you are far and away the best person in the world.... +What do you consider to be the greatest social virtue? In private +conversation Evstafi Ivanovitch once told me that the greatest social +virtue might be considered to be an ability to get money to spend. Also, +my comrades used jestingly (yes, I know only jestingly) to propound the +ethical maxim that a man ought never to let himself become a burden upon +anyone. Well, I am a burden upon no one. It is my own crust of bread +that I eat; and though that crust is but a poor one, and sometimes +actually a maggoty one, it has at least been EARNED, and therefore, is +being put to a right and lawful use. What therefore, ought I to do? I +know that I can earn but little by my labours as a copyist; yet even of +that little I am proud, for it has entailed WORK, and has wrung sweat +from my brow. What harm is there in being a copyist? “He is only an +amanuensis,” people say of me. But what is there so disgraceful in that? +My writing is at least legible, neat, and pleasant to look upon--and his +Excellency is satisfied with it. Indeed, I transcribe many important +documents. At the same time, I know that my writing lacks STYLE, which +is why I have never risen in the service. Even to you, my dear one, I +write simply and without tricks, but just as a thought may happen to +enter my head. Yes, I know all this; but if everyone were to become a +fine writer, who would there be left to act as copyists?... Whatsoever +questions I may put to you in my letters, dearest, I pray you to answer +them. I am sure that you need me, that I can be of use to you; and, +since that is so, I must not allow myself to be distracted by any +trifle. Even if I be likened to a rat, I do not care, provided that that +particular rat be wanted by you, and be of use in the world, and be +retained in its position, and receive its reward. But what a rat it is! + +Enough of this, dearest one. I ought not to have spoken of it, but I +lost my temper. Still, it is pleasant to speak the truth sometimes. +Goodbye, my own, my darling, my sweet little comforter! I will come to +you soon--yes, I will certainly come to you. Until I do so, do not fret +yourself. With me I shall be bringing a book. Once more goodbye.--Your +heartfelt well-wisher, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 20th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I am writing to you post-haste--I am +hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do you suppose +is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity has occurred for +you to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells me that a retired civil +servant of her acquaintance has a uniform to sell--one cut to regulation +pattern and in good repair, as well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO +not tell me that you have not got the money, for I know from your own +lips that you HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See +what terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful--they are +patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That this is +so, I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me about it. So +listen to me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it for MY sake. Do it to +show that you really love me. + +You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar +Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that you +should spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money, upon me? +How you love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I do not need it, +that such expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I am CERTAIN, that you +love me--therefore, it is useless to remind me of the fact with gifts. +Nor do I like receiving them, since I know how much they must have cost +you. No--put your money to a better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to +do so. Also, you ask me to send you a continuation of my memoirs--to +conclude them. But I know not how I contrived even to write as much of +them as I did; and now I have not the strength to write further of my +past, nor the desire to give it a single thought. Such recollections are +terrible to me. Most difficult of all is it for me to speak of my poor +mother, who left her destitute daughter a prey to villains. My heart +runs blood whenever I think of it; it is so fresh in my memory that +I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor rest for its insistence, +although a year has now elapsed since the events took place. But all +this you know. + +Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She accuses +me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made against herself with +regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps sending for me, and telling +me that I have taken to evil courses, but that if I will return to her, +she will smooth over matters with Bwikov, and force him to confess his +fault. Also, she says that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them +all! I am quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to +me reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman though +you may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other people I do +not wish to know, and would gladly forget if I could.... What are they +wanting with me now? Thedora declares it all to be a trick, and says +that in time they will leave me alone. God grant it be so! + +B. D. + + + + +June 21st. + +MY OWN, MY DARLING,--I wish to write to you, yet know not where to +begin. Things are as strange as though we were actually living together. +Also I would add that never in my life have I passed such happy days as +I am spending at present. ‘Tis as though God had blessed me with a home +and a family of my own! Yes, you are my little daughter, beloved. But +why mention the four sorry roubles that I sent you? You needed them; +I know that from Thedora herself, and it will always be a particular +pleasure to me to gratify you in anything. It will always be my one +happiness in life. Pray, therefore, leave me that happiness, and do +not seek to cross me in it. Things are not as you suppose. I have now +reached the sunshine since, in the first place, I am living so close to +you as almost to be with you (which is a great consolation to my mind), +while, in the second place, a neighbour of mine named Rataziaev (the +retired official who gives the literary parties) has today invited me +to tea. This evening, therefore, there will be a gathering at which we +shall discuss literature! Think of that my darling! Well, goodbye now. +I have written this without any definite aim in my mind, but solely to +assure you of my welfare. Through Theresa I have received your message +that you need an embroidered cloak to wear, so I will go and purchase +one. Yes, tomorrow I mean to purchase that embroidered cloak, and so +give myself the pleasure of having satisfied one of your wants. I know +where to go for such a garment. For the time being I remain your sincere +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 22nd. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have to tell you that a sad event +has happened in this house--an event to excite one’s utmost pity. +This morning, about five o’clock, one of Gorshkov’s children died of +scarlatina, or something of the kind. I have been to pay the parents +a visit of condolence, and found them living in the direst poverty and +disorder. Nor is that surprising, seeing that the family lives in a +single room, with only a screen to divide it for decency’s sake. Already +the coffin was standing in their midst--a plain but decent shell which +had been bought ready-made. The child, they told me, had been a boy of +nine, and full of promise. What a pitiful spectacle! Though not weeping, +the mother, poor woman, looked broken with grief. After all, to have one +burden the less on their shoulders may prove a relief, though there are +still two children left--a babe at the breast and a little girl of six! +How painful to see these suffering children, and to be unable to help +them! The father, clad in an old, dirty frockcoat, was seated on a +dilapidated chair. Down his cheeks there were coursing tears--though +less through grief than owing to a long-standing affliction of the eyes. +He was so thin, too! Always he reddens in the face when he is addressed, +and becomes too confused to answer. A little girl, his daughter, was +leaning against the coffin--her face looking so worn and thoughtful, +poor mite! Do you know, I cannot bear to see a child look thoughtful. +On the floor there lay a rag doll, but she was not playing with it as, +motionless, she stood there with her finger to her lips. Even a bon-bon +which the landlady had given her she was not eating. Is it not all sad, +sad, Barbara? + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 25th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I return you your book. In my opinion it +is a worthless one, and I would rather not have it in my possession. +Why do you save up your money to buy such trash? Except in jest, do +such books really please you? However, you have now promised to send me +something else to read. I will share the cost of it. Now, farewell until +we meet again. I have nothing more to say. + +B. D. + + + + +June 26th. + +MY DEAR LITTLE BARBARA--To tell you the truth, I myself have not read +the book of which you speak. That is to say, though I began to read it, +I soon saw that it was nonsense, and written only to make people laugh. +“However,” thought I, “it is at least a CHEERFUL work, and so may please +Barbara.” That is why I sent it you. + +Rataziaev has now promised to give me something really literary to read; +so you shall soon have your book, my darling. He is a man who reflects; +he is a clever fellow, as well as himself a writer--such a writer! His +pen glides along with ease, and in such a style (even when he is writing +the most ordinary, the most insignificant of articles) that I have often +remarked upon the fact, both to Phaldoni and to Theresa. Often, too, I +go to spend an evening with him. He reads aloud to us until five o’clock +in the morning, and we listen to him. It is a revelation of things +rather than a reading. It is charming, it is like a bouquet of +flowers--there is a bouquet of flowers in every line of each page. +Besides, he is such an approachable, courteous, kind-hearted fellow! +What am I compared with him? Why, nothing, simply nothing! He is a +man of reputation, whereas I--well, I do not exist at all. Yet he +condescends to my level. At this very moment I am copying out a +document for him. But you must not think that he finds any DIFFICULTY in +condescending to me, who am only a copyist. No, you must not believe the +base gossip that you may hear. I do copying work for him simply in order +to please myself, as well as that he may notice me--a thing that always +gives me pleasure. I appreciate the delicacy of his position. He is a +good--a very good--man, and an unapproachable writer. + +What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara--what a splendid thing! +This I learnt before I had known Rataziaev even for three days. It +strengthens and instructs the heart of man.... No matter what there be +in the world, you will find it all written down in Rataziaev’s works. +And so well written down, too! Literature is a sort of picture--a sort +of picture or mirror. It connotes at once passion, expression, fine +criticism, good learning, and a document. Yes, I have learned this from +Rataziaev himself. I can assure you, Barbara, that if only you could be +sitting among us, and listening to the talk (while, with the rest of us, +you smoked a pipe), and were to hear those present begin to argue +and dispute concerning different matters, you would feel of as little +account among them as I do; for I myself figure there only as a +blockhead, and feel ashamed, since it takes me a whole evening to think +of a single word to interpolate--and even then the word will not come! +In a case like that a man regrets that, as the proverb has it, he should +have reached man’s estate but not man’s understanding.... What do I +do in my spare time? I sleep like a fool, though I would far rather be +occupied with something else--say, with eating or writing, since the one +is useful to oneself, and the other is beneficial to one’s fellows. You +should see how much money these fellows contrive to save! How much, for +instance, does not Rataziaev lay by? A few days’ writing, I am told, can +earn him as much as three hundred roubles! Indeed, if a man be a writer +of short stories or anything else that is interesting, he can sometimes +pocket five hundred roubles, or a thousand, at a time! Think of it, +Barbara! Rataziaev has by him a small manuscript of verses, and for it +he is asking--what do you think? Seven thousand roubles! Why, one could +buy a whole house for that sum! He has even refused five thousand for a +manuscript, and on that occasion I reasoned with him, and advised him +to accept the five thousand. But it was of no use. “For,” said he, “they +will soon offer me seven thousand,” and kept to his point, for he is a +man of some determination. + +Suppose, now, that I were to give you an extract from “Passion in Italy” + (as another work of his is called). Read this, dearest Barbara, and +judge for yourself: + +“Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had welled until +it had reached boiling point. + +“‘Countess,’ he cried, ‘do you know how terrible is this adoration of +mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have not deceived me--I +love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a madman might! All the blood +that is in your husband’s body could never quench the furious, +surging rapture that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the +all-destroying, infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! +Oh Zinaida, my Zinaida!’ + +“‘Vladimir!’ she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his +bosom. + +“‘My Zinaida!’ cried the enraptured Smileski once more. + +“His breath was coming in sharp, broken pants. The lamp of love was +burning brightly on the altar of passion, and searing the hearts of the +two unfortunate sufferers. + +“‘Vladimir!’ again she whispered in her intoxication, while her bosom +heaved, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. + +“Thus was a new and dread union consummated. + +“Half an hour later the aged Count entered his wife’s boudoir. + +“‘How now, my love?’ said he. ‘Surely it is for some welcome guest +beyond the common that you have had the samovar [Tea-urn.] thus +prepared?’ And he smote her lightly on the cheek.” + +What think you of THAT, Barbara? True, it is a little too +outspoken--there can be no doubt of that; yet how grand it is, how +splendid! With your permission I will also quote you an extract from +Rataziaev’s story, Ermak and Zuleika: + +“‘You love me, Zuleika? Say again that you love me, you love me!’ + +“‘I DO love you, Ermak,’ whispered Zuleika. + +“‘Then by heaven and earth I thank you! By heaven and earth you have +made me happy! You have given me all, all that my tortured soul has +for immemorial years been seeking! ‘Tis for this that you have led me +hither, my guiding star--‘tis for this that you have conducted me to +the Girdle of Stone! To all the world will I now show my Zuleika, and +no man, demon or monster of Hell, shall bid me nay! Oh, if men would but +understand the mysterious passions of her tender heart, and see the poem +which lurks in each of her little tears! Suffer me to dry those tears +with my kisses! Suffer me to drink of those heavenly drops, Oh being who +art not of this earth!’ + +“‘Ermak,’ said Zuleika, ‘the world is cruel, and men are unjust. But +LET them drive us from their midst--let them judge us, my beloved Ermak! +What has a poor maiden who was reared amid the snows of Siberia to do +with their cold, icy, self-sufficient world? Men cannot understand me, +my darling, my sweetheart.’ + +“‘Is that so? Then shall the sword of the Cossacks sing and whistle over +their heads!’ cried Ermak with a furious look in his eyes.” + +What must Ermak have felt when he learnt that his Zuleika had been +murdered, Barbara?--that, taking advantages of the cover of night, the +blind old Kouchoum had, in Ermak’s absence, broken into the latter’s +tent, and stabbed his own daughter in mistake for the man who had robbed +him of sceptre and crown? + +“‘Oh that I had a stone whereon to whet my sword!’ cried Ermak in the +madness of his wrath as he strove to sharpen his steel blade upon the +enchanted rock. ‘I would have his blood, his blood! I would tear him +limb from limb, the villain!’” + +Then Ermak, unable to survive the loss of his Zuleika, throws himself +into the Irtisch, and the tale comes to an end. + +Here, again, is another short extract--this time written in a more +comical vein, to make people laugh: + +“Do you know Ivan Prokofievitch Zheltopuzh? He is the man who took a +piece out of Prokofi Ivanovitch’s leg. Ivan’s character is one of the +rugged order, and therefore, one that is rather lacking in virtue. +Yet he has a passionate relish for radishes and honey. Once he also +possessed a friend named Pelagea Antonovna. Do you know Pelagea +Antonovna? She is the woman who always puts on her petticoat wrong side +outwards.” + +What humour, Barbara--what purest humour! We rocked with laughter when +he read it aloud to us. Yes, that is the kind of man he is. Possibly the +passage is a trifle over-frolicsome, but at least it is harmless, and +contains no freethought or liberal ideas. In passing, I may say that +Rataziaev is not only a supreme writer, but also a man of upright +life--which is more than can be said for most writers. + +What, do you think, is an idea that sometimes enters my head? In fact, +what if I myself were to write something? How if suddenly a book were +to make its appearance in the world bearing the title of “The Poetical +Works of Makar Dievushkin”? What THEN, my angel? How should you view, +should you receive, such an event? I may say of myself that never, after +my book had appeared, should I have the hardihood to show my face on +the Nevski Prospect; for would it not be too dreadful to hear every +one saying, “Here comes the literateur and poet, Dievushkin--yes, it is +Dievushkin himself.” What, in such a case, should I do with my feet (for +I may tell you that almost always my shoes are patched, or have just +been resoled, and therefore look anything but becoming)? To think that +the great writer Dievushkin should walk about in patched footgear! If +a duchess or a countess should recognise me, what would she say, poor +woman? Perhaps, though, she would not notice my shoes at all, since +it may reasonably be supposed that countesses do not greatly occupy +themselves with footgear, especially with the footgear of civil service +officials (footgear may differ from footgear, it must be remembered). +Besides, I should find that the countess had heard all about me, for +my friends would have betrayed me to her--Rataziaev among the first of +them, seeing that he often goes to visit Countess V., and practically +lives at her house. She is said to be a woman of great intellect and +wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev! + +But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse myself and +to divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This is a long epistle +that I am sending you, but the reason is that today I feel in good +spirits after dining at Rataziaev’s. There I came across a novel which I +hardly know how to describe to you. Do not think the worse of me on that +account, even though I bring you another book instead (for I certainly +mean to bring one). The novel in question was one of Paul de Kock’s, and +not a novel for you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your +eyes. In fact, it is said to have greatly offended the critics of St. +Petersburg. Also, I am sending you a pound of bonbons--bought specially +for yourself. Each time that you eat one, beloved, remember the sender. +Only, do not bite the iced ones, but suck them gently, lest they make +your teeth ache. Perhaps, too, you like comfits? Well, write and tell +me if it is so. Goodbye, goodbye. Christ watch over you, my +darling!--Always your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--Thedora tells me that, should I wish, +there are some people who will be glad to help me by obtaining me an +excellent post as governess in a certain house. What think you, my +friend? Shall I go or not? Of course, I should then cease to be a burden +to you, and the post appears to be a comfortable one. On the other hand, +the idea of entering a strange house appals me. The people in it are +landed gentry, and they will begin to ask me questions, and to busy +themselves about me. What answers shall I then return? You see, I am now +so unused to society--so shy! I like to live in a corner to which I have +long grown used. Yes, the place with which one is familiar is always the +best. Even if for companion one has but sorrow, that place will still be +the best.... God alone knows what duties the post will entail. Perhaps +I shall merely be required to act as nursemaid; and in any case, I hear +that the governess there has been changed three times in two years. For +God’s sake, Makar Alexievitch, advise me whether to go or not. Why do +you never come near me now? Do let my eyes have an occasional sight of +you. Mass on Sundays is almost the only time when we see one another. +How retiring you have become! So also have I, even though, in a way, I +am your kinswoman. You must have ceased to love me, Makar Alexievitch. I +spend many a weary hour because of it. Sometimes, when dusk is falling, +I find myself lonely--oh, so lonely! Thedora has gone out somewhere, and +I sit here and think, and think, and think. I remember all the past, its +joys and its sorrows. It passes before my eyes in detail, it glimmers at +me as out of a mist; and as it does so, well-known faces appear, which +seem actually to be present with me in this room! Most frequently of +all, I see my mother. Ah, the dreams that come to me! I feel that my +health is breaking, so weak am I. When this morning I arose, sickness +took me until I vomited and vomited. Yes, I feel, I know, that death is +approaching. Who will bury me when it has come? Who will visit my tomb? +Who will sorrow for me? And now it is in a strange place, in the house +of a stranger, that I may have to die! Yes, in a corner which I do not +know!... My God, how sad a thing is life!... Why do you send me comfits +to eat? Whence do you get the money to buy them? Ah, for God’s sake keep +the money, keep the money. Thedora has sold a carpet which I have made. +She got fifty roubles for it, which is very good--I had expected less. +Of the fifty roubles I shall give Thedora three, and with the remainder +make myself a plain, warm dress. Also, I am going to make you a +waistcoat--to make it myself, and out of good material. + +Also, Thedora has brought me a book--“The Stories of Bielkin”--which I +will forward you, if you would care to read it. Only, do not soil it, +nor yet retain it, for it does not belong to me. It is by Pushkin. Two +years ago I read these stories with my mother, and it would hurt me +to read them again. If you yourself have any books, pray let me have +them--so long as they have not been obtained from Rataziaev. Probably he +will be giving you one of his own works when he has had one printed. How +is it that his compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I +think them SUCH rubbish!--Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! +When feeling sad, I always like to talk of something, for it acts upon +me like medicine--I begin to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what +is preying upon my heart. Good bye, good-bye, my friend--Your own + +B. D. + + + + +June 28th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--Away with melancholy! Really, beloved, +you ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you allow such thoughts to +enter your head? Really and truly you are quite well; really and truly +you are, my darling. Why, you are blooming--simply blooming. True, I see +a certain touch of pallor in your face, but still you are blooming. A +fig for dreams and visions! Yes, for shame, dearest! Drive away those +fancies; try to despise them. Why do I sleep so well? Why am I never +ailing? Look at ME, beloved. I live well, I sleep peacefully, I retain +my health, I can ruffle it with my juniors. In fact, it is a pleasure +to see me. Come, come, then, sweetheart! Let us have no more of this. +I know that that little head of yours is capable of any fancy--that all +too easily you take to dreaming and repining; but for my sake, cease to +do so. + +Are you to go to these people, you ask me? Never! No, no, again no! How +could you think of doing such a thing as taking a journey? I will not +allow it--I intend to combat your intention with all my might. I will +sell my frockcoat, and walk the streets in my shirt sleeves, rather than +let you be in want. But no, Barbara. I know you, I know you. This is +merely a trick, merely a trick. And probably Thedora alone is to +blame for it. She appears to be a foolish old woman, and to be able to +persuade you to do anything. Do not believe her, my dearest. I am sure +that you know what is what, as well as SHE does. Eh, sweetheart? She is +a stupid, quarrelsome, rubbish-talking old woman who brought her late +husband to the grave. Probably she has been plaguing you as much as she +did him. No, no, dearest; you must not take this step. What should I do +then? What would there be left for ME to do? Pray put the idea out +of your head. What is it you lack here? I cannot feel sufficiently +overjoyed to be near you, while, for your part, you love me well, and +can live your life here as quietly as you wish. Read or sew, whichever +you like--or read and do not sew. Only, do not desert me. Try, yourself, +to imagine how things would seem after you had gone. Here am I sending +you books, and later we will go for a walk. Come, come, then, my +Barbara! Summon to your aid your reason, and cease to babble of trifles. + +As soon as I can I will come and see you, and then you shall tell me the +whole story. This will not do, sweetheart; this certainly will not do. +Of course, I know that I am not an educated man, and have received but a +sorry schooling, and have had no inclination for it, and think too much +of Rataziaev, if you will; but he is my friend, and therefore, I must +put in a word or two for him. Yes, he is a splendid writer. Again and +again I assert that he writes magnificently. I do not agree with +you about his works, and never shall. He writes too ornately, too +laconically, with too great a wealth of imagery and imagination. Perhaps +you have read him without insight, Barbara? Or perhaps you were out of +spirits at the time, or angry with Thedora about something, or worried +about some mischance? Ah, but you should read him sympathetically, and, +best of all, at a time when you are feeling happy and contented and +pleasantly disposed--for instance, when you have a bonbon or two in your +mouth. Yes, that is the way to read Rataziaev. I do not dispute (indeed, +who would do so?) that better writers than he exist--even far better; +but they are good, and he is good too--they write well, and he writes +well. It is chiefly for his own sake that he writes, and he is to be +approved for so doing. + +Now goodbye, dearest. More I cannot write, for I must hurry away to +business. Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you!--Your +faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S--Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it through, +this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. + + + +MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--No, no, my friend, I must not go on living +near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come to the +conclusion that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so good a post. I +should at least have an assured crust of bread; I might at least set to +work to earn my employers’ favour, and even try to change my character +if required to do so. Of course it is a sad and sorry thing to have to +live among strangers, and to be forced to seek their patronage, and to +conceal and constrain one’s own personality--but God will help me. I +must not remain forever a recluse, for similar chances have come my way +before. I remember how, when a little girl at school, I used to go home +on Sundays and spend the time in frisking and dancing about. Sometimes +my mother would chide me for so doing, but I did not care, for my heart +was too joyous, and my spirits too buoyant, for that. Yet as the evening +of Sunday came on, a sadness as of death would overtake me, for at nine +o’clock I had to return to school, where everything was cold and strange +and severe--where the governesses, on Mondays, lost their tempers, and +nipped my ears, and made me cry. On such occasions I would retire to a +corner and weep alone; concealing my tears lest I should be called lazy. +Yet it was not because I had to study that I used to weep, and in time I +grew more used to things, and, after my schooldays were over, shed tears +only when I was parting with friends... It is not right for me to live +in dependence upon you. The thought tortures me. I tell you this +frankly, for the reason that frankness with you has become a habit. +Cannot I see that daily, at earliest dawn, Thedora rises to do washing +and scrubbing, and remains working at it until late at night, even +though her poor old bones must be aching for want of rest? Cannot I also +see that YOU are ruining yourself for me, and hoarding your last kopeck +that you may spend it on my behalf? You ought not so to act, my friend, +even though you write that you would rather sell your all than let me +want for anything. I believe in you, my friend--I entirely believe in +your good heart; but, you say that to me now (when, perhaps, you have +received some unexpected sum or gratuity) and there is still the future +to be thought of. You yourself know that I am always ailing--that I +cannot work as you do, glad though I should be of any work if I could +get it; so what else is there for me to do? To sit and repine as I watch +you and Thedora? But how would that be of any use to you? AM I necessary +to you, comrade of mine? HAVE I ever done you any good? Though I am +bound to you with my whole soul, and love you dearly and strongly and +wholeheartedly, a bitter fate has ordained that that love should be all +that I have to give--that I should be unable, by creating for you +subsistence, to repay you for all your kindness. Do not, therefore, +detain me longer, but think the matter out, and give me your opinion on +it. In expectation of which I remain your sweetheart, + +B. D. + + + + +July 1st. + +Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!--What you say is sheer rubbish. Stay here, +rather, and put such thoughts out of your head. None of what you suppose +is true. I can see for myself that it is not. Whatsoever you lack here, +you have but to ask me for it. Here you love and are loved, and we might +easily be happy and contented together. What could you want more? What +have you to do with strangers? You cannot possibly know what strangers +are like. I know it, though, and could have told you if you had asked +me. There is a stranger whom I know, and whose bread I have eaten. He +is a cruel man, Barbara--a man so bad that he would be unworthy of your +little heart, and would soon tear it to pieces with his railings and +reproaches and black looks. On the other hand, you are safe and well +here--you are as safe as though you were sheltered in a nest. Besides, +you would, as it were, leave me with my head gone. For what should I +have to do when you were gone? What could I, an old man, find to do? Are +you not necessary to me? Are you not useful to me? Eh? Surely you do not +think that you are not useful? You are of great use to me, Barbara, for +you exercise a beneficial influence upon my life. Even at this moment, +as I think of you, I feel cheered, for always I can write letters to +you, and put into them what I am feeling, and receive from you detailed +answers.... I have bought you a wardrobe, and also procured you a +bonnet; so you see that you have only to give me a commission for it to +be executed.... No--in what way are you not useful? What should I do +if I were deserted in my old age? What would become of me? Perhaps you +never thought of that, Barbara--perhaps you never said to yourself, “How +could HE get on without me?” You see, I have grown so accustomed to you. +What else would it end in, if you were to go away? Why, in my hiking to +the Neva’s bank and doing away with myself. Ah, Barbara, darling, I +can see that you want me to be taken away to the Volkovo Cemetery in +a broken-down old hearse, with some poor outcast of the streets to +accompany my coffin as chief mourner, and the gravediggers to heap my +body with clay, and depart and leave me there. How wrong of you, how +wrong of you, my beloved! Yes, by heavens, how wrong of you! I am +returning you your book, little friend; and, if you were to ask of me +my opinion of it, I should say that never before in my life had I read +a book so splendid. I keep wondering how I have hitherto contrived to +remain such an owl. For what have I ever done? From what wilds did +I spring into existence? I KNOW nothing--I know simply NOTHING. My +ignorance is complete. Frankly, I am not an educated man, for until now +I have read scarcely a single book--only “A Portrait of Man” (a clever +enough work in its way), “The Boy Who Could Play Many Tunes Upon Bells”, +and “Ivik’s Storks”. That is all. But now I have also read “The Station +Overseer” in your little volume; and it is wonderful to think that one +may live and yet be ignorant of the fact that under one’s very nose +there may be a book in which one’s whole life is described as in a +picture. Never should I have guessed that, as soon as ever one begins to +read such a book, it sets one on both to remember and to consider and to +foretell events. Another reason why I liked this book so much is that, +though, in the case of other works (however clever they be), one may +read them, yet remember not a word of them (for I am a man naturally +dull of comprehension, and unable to read works of any great +importance),--although, as I say, one may read such works, one reads +such a book as YOURS as easily as though it had been written by oneself, +and had taken possession of one’s heart, and turned it inside out for +inspection, and were describing it in detail as a matter of perfect +simplicity. Why, I might almost have written the book myself! Why not, +indeed? I can feel just as the people in the book do, and find myself +in positions precisely similar to those of, say, the character Samson +Virin. In fact, how many good-hearted wretches like Virin are there not +walking about amongst us? How easily, too, it is all described! I assure +you, my darling, that I almost shed tears when I read that Virin so took +to drink as to lose his memory, become morose, and spend whole days over +his liquor; as also that he choked with grief and wept bitterly when, +rubbing his eyes with his dirty hand, he bethought him of his wandering +lamb, his daughter Dunasha! How natural, how natural! You should read +the book for yourself. The thing is actually alive. Even I can see that; +even I can realise that it is a picture cut from the very life around +me. In it I see our own Theresa (to go no further) and the poor +tchinovnik--who is just such a man as this Samson Virin, except for +his surname of Gorshkov. The book describes just what might happen to +ourselves--to myself in particular. Even a count who lives in the Nevski +Prospect or in Naberezhnaia Street might have a similar experience, +though he might APPEAR to be different, owing to the fact that his life +is cast on a higher plane. Yes, just the same things might happen to +him--just the same things.... Here you are wishing to go away and leave +us; yet, be careful lest it would not be I who had to pay the penalty of +your doing so. For you might ruin both yourself and me. For the love of +God, put away these thoughts from you, my darling, and do not torture me +in vain. How could you, my poor little unfledged nestling, find yourself +food, and defend yourself from misfortune, and ward off the wiles of +evil men? Think better of it, Barbara, and pay no more heed to +foolish advice and calumny, but read your book again, and read it with +attention. It may do you much good. + +I have spoken of Rataziaev’s “The Station Overseer”. However, the author +has told me that the work is old-fashioned, since, nowadays, books are +issued with illustrations and embellishments of different sorts (though +I could not make out all that he said). Pushkin he adjudges a splendid +poet, and one who has done honour to Holy Russia. Read your book again, +Barbara, and follow my advice, and make an old man happy. The Lord God +Himself will reward you. Yes, He will surely reward you.--Your faithful +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today Thedora came to me with fifteen +roubles in silver. How glad was the poor woman when I gave her three of +them! I am writing to you in great haste, for I am busy cutting out a +waistcoat to send to you--buff, with a pattern of flowers. Also I +am sending you a book of stories; some of which I have read myself, +particularly one called “The Cloak.” ... You invite me to go to the +theatre with you. But will it not cost too much? Of course we might sit +in the gallery. It is a long time (indeed I cannot remember when I last +did so) since I visited a theatre! Yet I cannot help fearing that such +an amusement is beyond our means. Thedora keeps nodding her head, and +saying that you have taken to living above your income. I myself divine +the same thing by the amount which you have spent upon me. Take care, +dear friend, that misfortune does not come of it, for Thedora has also +informed me of certain rumours concerning your inability to meet your +landlady’s bills. In fact, I am very anxious about you. Now, goodbye, +for I must hasten away to see about another matter--about the changing +of the ribands on my bonnet. + +P.S.--Do you know, if we go to the theatre, I think that I shall wear my +new hat and black mantilla. Will that not look nice? + + + + + +July 7th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--SO much for yesterday! Yes, dearest, we +have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly +bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her +with all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my +first sight of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the +theatre. In those days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young +men--a most noisy crew--and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, +to the theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, +and only assisted them for company’s sake. How those fellows talked to +me of this actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire +band of them (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would +betake themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended +to the gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the +actress in question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after +we had returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on +talking about her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring +themselves to be in love with “the canary-bird of their hearts.” My +defenseless self, too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as +young as they. What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth +tier of the gallery! Yet, I never got a sight of more than just a corner +of the curtain, but had to content myself with listening. She had a +fine, resounding, mellow voice like a nightingale’s, and we all of us +used to clap our hands loudly, and to shout at the top of our lungs. In +short, we came very near to being ejected. On the first occasion I went +home walking as in a mist, with a single rouble left in my pocket, and +an interval of ten clear days confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, +what think you, dearest? The very next day, before going to work, I +called at a French perfumer’s, and spent my whole remaining capital on +some eau-de-Cologne and scented soap! Why I did so I do not know. Nor +did I dine at home that day, but kept walking and walking past her +windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the Nevski Prospect). +At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to rest a short hour +before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect and resuming my vigil +before her windows. For a month and a half I kept this up--dangling in +her train. Sometimes I would hire cabs, and discharge them in view of +her abode; until at length I had entirely ruined myself, and got into +debt. Then I fell out of love with her--I grew weary of the pursuit.... +You see, therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a decent man. +In those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY young. + +M. D. + + + + +July 8th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--The book which I received from you on +the 6th of this month I now hasten to return, while at the same time +hastening also to explain matters to you in this accompanying letter. +What a misfortune, my beloved, that you should have brought me to such a +pass! Our lots in life are apportioned by the Almighty according to our +human deserts. To such a one He assigns a life in a general’s epaulets +or as a privy councillor--to such a one, I say, He assigns a life of +command; whereas to another one, He allots only a life of unmurmuring +toil and suffering. These things are calculated according to a man’s +CAPACITY. One man may be capable of one thing, and another of another, +and their several capacities are ordered by the Lord God himself. I +have now been thirty years in the public service, and have fulfilled my +duties irreproachably, remained abstemious, and never been detected +in any unbecoming behaviour. As a citizen, I may confess--I confess +it freely--I have been guilty of certain shortcomings; yet those +shortcomings have been combined with certain virtues. I am respected by +my superiors, and even his Excellency has had no fault to find with me; +and though I have never been shown any special marks of favour, I know +that every one finds me at least satisfactory. Also, my writing is +sufficiently legible and clear. Neither too rounded nor too fine, it +is a running hand, yet always suitable. Of our staff only Ivan +Prokofievitch writes a similar hand. Thus have I lived till the grey +hairs of my old age; yet I can think of no serious fault committed. Of +course, no one is free from MINOR faults. Everyone has some of them, and +you among the rest, my beloved. But in grave or in audacious offences +never have I been detected, nor in infringements of regulations, nor in +breaches of the public peace. No, never! This you surely know, even as +the author of your book must have known it. Yes, he also must have +known it when he sat down to write. I had not expected this of you, my +Barbara. I should never have expected it. + +What? In future I am not to go on living peacefully in my little corner, +poor though that corner be I am not to go on living, as the proverb has +it, without muddying the water, or hurting any one, or forgetting the +fear of the Lord God and of oneself? I am not to see, forsooth, that +no man does me an injury, or breaks into my home--I am not to take care +that all shall go well with me, or that I have clothes to wear, or that +my shoes do not require mending, or that I be given work to do, or +that I possess sufficient meat and drink? Is it nothing that, where +the pavement is rotten, I have to walk on tiptoe to save my boots? If I +write to you overmuch concerning myself, is it concerning ANOTHER man, +rather, that I ought to write--concerning HIS wants, concerning HIS +lack of tea to drink (and all the world needs tea)? Has it ever been +my custom to pry into other men’s mouths, to see what is being put into +them? Have I ever been known to offend any one in that respect? No, no, +beloved! Why should I desire to insult other folks when they are not +molesting ME? Let me give you an example of what I mean. A man may go on +slaving and slaving in the public service, and earn the respect of his +superiors (for what it is worth), and then, for no visible reason at +all, find himself made a fool of. Of course he may break out now and +then (I am not now referring only to drunkenness), and (for example) +buy himself a new pair of shoes, and take pleasure in seeing his feet +looking well and smartly shod. Yes, I myself have known what it is +to feel like that (I write this in good faith). Yet I am nonetheless +astonished that Thedor Thedorovitch should neglect what is being said +about him, and take no steps to defend himself. True, he is only a +subordinate official, and sometimes loves to rate and scold; yet why +should he not do so--why should he not indulge in a little vituperation +when he feels like it? Suppose it to be NECESSARY, for FORM’S sake, +to scold, and to set everyone right, and to shower around abuse (for, +between ourselves, Barbara, our friend cannot get on WITHOUT abuse--so +much so that every one humours him, and does things behind his back)? +Well, since officials differ in rank, and every official demands that +he shall be allowed to abuse his fellow officials in proportion to his +rank, it follows that the TONE also of official abuse should become +divided into ranks, and thus accord with the natural order of things. +All the world is built upon the system that each one of us shall have to +yield precedence to some other one, as well as to enjoy a certain power +of abusing his fellows. Without such a provision the world could not +get on at all, and simple chaos would ensue. Yet I am surprised that our +Thedor should continue to overlook insults of the kind that he endures. + +Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will my +doing of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, or to buy +me a new pair of shoes? No, Barbara. Men only read the documents, and +then require me to write more. Sometimes a man will hide himself away, +and not show his face abroad, for the mere reason that, though he has +done nothing to be ashamed of, he dreads the gossip and slandering which +are everywhere to be encountered. If his civic and family life have to +do with literature, everything will be printed and read and laughed +over and discussed; until at length, he hardly dare show his face in +the street at all, seeing that he will have been described by report as +recognisable through his gait alone! Then, when he has amended his ways, +and grown gentler (even though he still continues to be loaded with +official work), he will come to be accounted a virtuous, decent citizen +who has deserved well of his comrades, rendered obedience to his +superiors, wished no one any evil, preserved the fear of God in his +heart, and died lamented. Yet would it not be better, instead of letting +the poor fellow die, to give him a cloak while yet he is ALIVE--to give +it to this same Thedor Thedorovitch (that is to say, to myself)? Yes, +‘twere far better if, on hearing the tale of his subordinate’s virtues, +the chief of the department were to call the deserving man into his +office, and then and there to promote him, and to grant him an increase +of salary. Thus vice would be punished, virtue would prevail, and the +staff of that department would live in peace together. Here we have an +example from everyday, commonplace life. How, therefore, could you bring +yourself to send me that book, my beloved? It is a badly conceived +work, Barbara, and also unreal, for the reason that in creation such +a tchinovnik does not exist. No, again I protest against it, little +Barbara; again I protest.--Your most humble, devoted servant, + +M. D. + + + + +July 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Your latest conduct and letters had +frightened me, and left me thunderstruck and plunged in doubt, until +what you have said about Thedor explained the situation. Why despair +and go into such frenzies, Makar Alexievitch? Your explanations only +partially satisfy me. Perhaps I did wrong to insist upon accepting +a good situation when it was offered me, seeing that from my last +experience in that way I derived a shock which was anything but a matter +for jesting. You say also that your love for me has compelled you +to hide yourself in retirement. Now, how much I am indebted to you I +realised when you told me that you were spending for my benefit the sum +which you are always reported to have laid by at your bankers; but, now +that I have learned that you never possessed such a fund, but that, on +hearing of my destitute plight, and being moved by it, you decided to +spend upon me the whole of your salary--even to forestall it--and when I +had fallen ill, actually to sell your clothes--when I learned all this +I found myself placed in the harassing position of not knowing how to +accept it all, nor what to think of it. Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought +to have stopped at your first acts of charity--acts inspired by sympathy +and the love of kinsfolk, rather than have continued to squander your +means upon what was unnecessary. Yes, you have betrayed our friendship, +Makar Alexievitch, in that you have not been open with me; and, now that +I see that your last coin has been spent upon dresses and bon-bons and +excursions and books and visits to the theatre for me, I weep bitter +tears for my unpardonable improvidence in having accepted these things +without giving so much as a thought to your welfare. Yes, all that you +have done to give me pleasure has become converted into a source of +grief, and left behind it only useless regret. Of late I have remarked +that you were looking depressed; and though I felt fearful that +something unfortunate was impending, what has happened would otherwise +never have entered my head. To think that your better sense should so +play you false, Makar Alexievitch! What will people think of you, and +say of you? Who will want to know you? You whom, like everyone else, I +have valued for your goodness of heart and modesty and good sense--YOU, +I say, have now given way to an unpleasant vice of which you seem never +before to have been guilty. What were my feelings when Thedora informed +me that you had been discovered drunk in the street, and taken home by +the police? Why, I felt petrified with astonishment--although, in view +of the fact that you had failed me for four days, I had been expecting +some such extraordinary occurrence. Also, have you thought what your +superiors will say of you when they come to learn the true reason of +your absence? You say that everyone is laughing at you, that every +one has learnt of the bond which exists between us, and that your +neighbours habitually refer to me with a sneer. Pay no attention to +this, Makar Alexievitch; for the love of God, be comforted. Also, the +incident between you and the officers has much alarmed me, although +I had heard certain rumours concerning it. Pray explain to me what it +means. You write, too, that you have been afraid to be open with me, for +the reason that your confessions might lose you my friendship. Also, you +say that you are in despair at the thought of being unable to help me in +my illness, owing to the fact that you have sold everything which might +have maintained me, and preserved me in sickness, as well as that you +have borrowed as much as it is possible for you to borrow, and are daily +experiencing unpleasantness with your landlady. Well, in failing to +reveal all this to me you chose the worse course. Now, however, I know +all. You have forced me to recognise that I have been the cause of your +unhappy plight, as well as that my own conduct has brought upon myself +a twofold measure of sorrow. The fact leaves me thunderstruck, Makar +Alexievitch. Ah, friend, an infectious disease is indeed a misfortune, +for now we poor and miserable folk must perforce keep apart from one +another, lest the infection be increased. Yes, I have brought upon you +calamities which never before in your humble, solitary life you had +experienced. This tortures and exhausts me more than I can tell to think +of. + +Write to me quite frankly. Tell me how you came to embark upon such +a course of conduct. Comfort, oh, comfort me if you can. It is not +self-love that prompts me to speak of my own comforting, but my +friendship and love for you, which will never fade from my heart. +Goodbye. I await your answer with impatience. You have thought but +poorly of me, Makar Alexievitch.--Your friend and lover, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +July 28th. + +MY PRICELESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--What am I to say to you, now that all +is over, and we are gradually returning to our old position? You say +that you are anxious as to what will be thought of me. Let me tell you +that the dearest thing in life to me is my self-respect; wherefore, in +informing you of my misfortunes and misconduct, I would add that none +of my superiors know of my doings, nor ever will know of them, and that +therefore, I still enjoy a measure of respect in that quarter. Only one +thing do I fear--I fear gossip. Garrulous though my landlady be, she +said but little when, with the aid of your ten roubles, I today paid her +part of her account; and as for the rest of my companions, they do not +matter at all. So long as I have not borrowed money from them, I need +pay them no attention. To conclude my explanations, let me tell you +that I value your respect for me above everything in the world, and have +found it my greatest comfort during this temporary distress of mine. +Thank God, the first shock of things has abated, now that you have +agreed not to look upon me as faithless and an egotist simply because I +have deceived you. I wish to hold you to myself, for the reason that I +cannot bear to part with you, and love you as my guardian angel.... +I have now returned to work, and am applying myself diligently to my +duties. Also, yesterday Evstafi Ivanovitch exchanged a word or two with +me. Yet I will not conceal from you the fact that my debts are crushing +me down, and that my wardrobe is in a sorry state. At the same time, +these things do not REALLY matter and I would bid you not despair about +them. Send me, however, another half-rouble if you can (though that +half-rouble will stab me to the heart--stab me with the thought that it +is not I who am helping you, but YOU who are helping ME). Thedora has +done well to get those fifteen roubles for you. At the moment, fool of +an old man that I am, I have no hope of acquiring any more money; but as +soon as ever I do so, I will write to you and let you know all about it. +What chiefly worries me is the fear of gossip. Goodbye, little angel. I +kiss your hands, and beseech you to regain your health. If this is not +a detailed letter, the reason is that I must soon be starting for the +office, in order that, by strict application to duty, I may make amends +for the past. Further information concerning my doings (as well as +concerning that affair with the officers) must be deferred until +tonight.--Your affectionate and respectful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +July 28th. + +DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--It is YOU who have committed a fault--and one +which must weigh heavily upon your conscience. Indeed, your last letter +has amazed and confounded me,--so much so that, on once more looking +into the recesses of my heart, I perceive that I was perfectly right +in what I did. Of course I am not now referring to my debauch (no, +indeed!), but to the fact that I love you, and to the fact that it is +unwise of me to love you--very unwise. You know not how matters stand, +my darling. You know not why I am BOUND to love you. Otherwise you would +not say all that you do. Yet I am persuaded that it is your head rather +than your heart that is speaking. I am certain that your heart thinks +very differently. + +What occurred that night between myself and those officers I scarcely +know, I scarcely remember. You must bear in mind that for some time past +I have been in terrible distress--that for a whole month I have been, so +to speak, hanging by a single thread. Indeed, my position has been most +pitiable. Though I hid myself from you, my landlady was forever shouting +and railing at me. This would not have mattered a jot--the horrible old +woman might have shouted as much as she pleased--had it not been that, +in the first place, there was the disgrace of it, and, in the second +place, she had somehow learned of our connection, and kept proclaiming +it to the household until I felt perfectly deafened, and had to stop my +ears. The point, however, is that other people did not stop their ears, +but, on the contrary, pricked them. Indeed, I am at a loss what to do. + +Really this wretched rabble has driven me to extremities. It all began +with my hearing a strange rumour from Thedora--namely, that an unworthy +suitor had been to visit you, and had insulted you with an improper +proposal. That he had insulted you deeply I knew from my own feelings, +for I felt insulted in an equal degree. Upon that, my angel, I went to +pieces, and, losing all self-control, plunged headlong. Bursting into an +unspeakable frenzy, I was at once going to call upon this villain of a +seducer--though what to do next I knew not, seeing that I was fearful of +giving you offence. Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what a time +of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found myself +unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened to come +by. He also is a tchinovnik--or rather, was a tchinovnik, since he was +turned out of the service some time ago. What he was doing there at that +moment I do not know; I only know that I went with him.... Surely it +cannot give you pleasure to read of the misfortunes of your friend--of +his sorrows, and of the temptations which he experienced?... On the +evening of the third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of +whom I have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik. +More strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous occasion, +he had come to play cards here, and I had followed him home. Of course +I now see that I did wrong, but I felt beside myself when I heard +them telling him stories about me. Exactly what happened next I cannot +remember. I only remember that several other officers were present as +well as he. Or it may be that I saw everything double--God alone knows. +Also, I cannot exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my +fury I said a great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw +me down the staircase--pushed me down it, that is to say. How I got home +you know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself, and my pride +underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except yourself knows of the +affair, and in any case it does not matter. Perhaps the affair is as you +imagine it to have been, Barbara? One thing I know for certain, and that +is that last year one of our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar +liberty with Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute +secret. He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a +crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in the +way that a gentleman should--no one except myself being a witness of the +scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no explanation at all. After the +scene was over, nothing further transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch +and Peter Petrovitch, for the reason that the latter was so desirous of +getting on in life that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and +shake hands whenever they meet.... I will not dispute the fact that I +have erred most grievously--that I should never dare to dispute, or that +I have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I was fated +from birth so to do--and one cannot escape fate, my beloved. Here, +therefore, is a detailed explanation of my misfortunes and sorrows, +written for you to read whenever you may find it convenient. I am far +from well, beloved, and have lost all my gaiety of disposition, but I +send you this letter as a token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh +dear lady of my affections.--Your humble servant, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +July 29th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have read your two letters, and they +make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass over certain +things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of your misfortunes. +Can it be that the letters are the outcome of a mental disorder?... Come +and see me, for God’s sake. Come today, direct from the office, and dine +with us as you have done before. As to how you are living now, or as to +what settlement you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you +write nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have +left them unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today without +fail. You would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is an excellent +cook. Goodbye--Your own, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +August 1st. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Thank God that He has sent you a chance +of repaying my good with good. I believe in so doing, as well as in the +sweetness of your angelic heart. Therefore, I will not reproach you. +Only I pray you, do not again blame me because in the decline of my life +I have played the spendthrift. It was such a sin, was it not?--such a +thing to do? And even if you would still have it that the sin was there, +remember, little friend, what it costs me to hear such words fall from +your lips. Do not be vexed with me for saying this, for my heart is +fainting. Poor people are subject to fancies--this is a provision of +nature. I myself have had reason to know this. The poor man is exacting. +He cannot see God’s world as it is, but eyes each passer-by askance, and +looks around him uneasily in order that he may listen to every word that +is being uttered. May not people be talking of him? How is it that he +is so unsightly? What is he feeling at all? What sort of figure is +he cutting on the one side or on the other? It is matter of common +knowledge, my Barbara, that the poor man ranks lower than a rag, and +will never earn the respect of any one. Yes, write about him as you +like--let scribblers say what they choose about him--he will ever remain +as he was. And why is this? It is because, from his very nature, the +poor man has to wear his feelings on his sleeve, so that nothing about +him is sacred, and as for his self-respect--! Well, Emelia told me the +other day that once, when he had to collect subscriptions, official +sanction was demanded for every single coin, since people thought that +it would be no use paying their money to a poor man. Nowadays charity +is strangely administered. Perhaps it has always been so. Either folk do +not know how to administer it, or they are adept in the art--one of the +two. Perhaps you did not know this, so I beg to tell it you. And how +comes it that the poor man knows, is so conscious of it all? The answer +is--by experience. He knows because any day he may see a gentleman enter +a restaurant and ask himself, “What shall I have to eat today? I will +have such and such a dish,” while all the time the poor man will +have nothing to eat that day but gruel. There are men, too--wretched +busybodies--who walk about merely to see if they can find some wretched +tchinovnik or broken-down official who has got toes projecting from his +boots or his hair uncut! And when they have found such a one they make +a report of the circumstance, and their rubbish gets entered on the +file.... But what does it matter to you if my hair lacks the shears? If +you will forgive me what may seem to you a piece of rudeness, I declare +that the poor man is ashamed of such things with the sensitiveness of a +young girl. YOU, for instance, would not care (pray pardon my bluntness) +to unrobe yourself before the public eye; and in the same way, the poor +man does not like to be pried at or questioned concerning his family +relations, and so forth. A man of honour and self-respect such as I +am finds it painful and grievous to have to consort with men who would +deprive him of both. + +Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear’s cub or a plucked sparrow, +so that I fairly burned with shame. Yes, it hurt me terribly, Barbara. +Naturally one blushes when one can see one’s naked toes projecting +through one’s boots, and one’s buttons hanging by a single thread! +As though on purpose, I seemed, on this occasion, to be peculiarly +dishevelled. No wonder that my spirits fell. When I was talking on +business matters to Stepan Karlovitch, he suddenly exclaimed, for no +apparent reason, “Ah, poor old Makar Alexievitch!” and then left the +rest unfinished. But I knew what he had in his mind, and blushed so +hotly that even the bald patch on my head grew red. Of course the whole +thing is nothing, but it worries me, and leads to anxious thoughts. What +can these fellows know about me? God send that they know nothing! But +I confess that I suspect, I strongly suspect, one of my colleagues. Let +them only betray me! They would betray one’s private life for a groat, +for they hold nothing sacred. + +I have an idea who is at the bottom of it all. It is Rataziaev. Probably +he knows someone in our department to whom he has recounted the +story with additions. Or perhaps he has spread it abroad in his own +department, and thence, it has crept and crawled into ours. Everyone +here knows it, down to the last detail, for I have seen them point at +you with their fingers through the window. Oh yes, I have seen them do +it. Yesterday, when I stepped across to dine with you, the whole crew +were hanging out of the window to watch me, and the landlady exclaimed +that the devil was in young people, and called you certain unbecoming +names. But this is as nothing compared with Rataziaev’s foul intention +to place us in his books, and to describe us in a satire. He himself has +declared that he is going to do so, and other people say the same. +In fact, I know not what to think, nor what to decide. It is no use +concealing the fact that you and I have sinned against the Lord God.... +You were going to send me a book of some sort, to divert my mind--were +you not, dearest? What book, though, could now divert me? Only such +books as have never existed on earth. Novels are rubbish, and written +for fools and for the idle. Believe me, dearest, I know it through long +experience. Even should they vaunt Shakespeare to you, I tell you that +Shakespeare is rubbish, and proper only for lampoons--Your own, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 2nd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do not disquiet yourself. God will grant +that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a quantity of work, +both for me and herself, and we are setting about it with a will. +Perhaps it will put us straight again. Thedora suspects my late +misfortunes to be connected with Anna Thedorovna; but I do not care--I +feel extraordinarily cheerful today. So you are thinking of borrowing +more money? If so, may God preserve you, for you will assuredly be +ruined when the time comes for repayment! You had far better come and +live with us here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode +here, and pay no attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for +the rest of your enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is with +vain imaginings that you are vexing yourself.... In passing, let me tell +you that your style differs greatly from letter to letter. Goodbye until +we meet again. I await your coming with impatience--Your own, + +B. D. + + + + +August 3rd. + +MY ANGEL, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to inform you, Oh light of my +life, that my hopes are rising again. But, little daughter of mine--do +you really mean it when you say that I am to indulge in no more +borrowings? Why, I could not do without them. Things would go badly with +us both if I did so. You are ailing. Consequently, I tell you roundly +that I MUST borrow, and that I must continue to do so. + +Also, I may tell you that my seat in the office is now next to that of a +certain Emelia Ivanovitch. He is not the Emelia whom you know, but a +man who, like myself, is a privy councillor, as well as represents, with +myself, the senior and oldest official in our department. Likewise he is +a good, disinterested soul, and one that is not over-talkative, though +a true bear in appearance and demeanour. Industrious, and possessed of +a handwriting purely English, his caligraphy is, it must be confessed, +even worse than my own. Yes, he is a good soul. At the same time, we +have never been intimate with one another. We have done no more than +exchange greetings on meeting or parting, borrow one another’s penknife +if we needed one, and, in short, observe such bare civilities as +convention demands. Well, today he said to me, “Makar Alexievitch, +what makes you look so thoughtful?” and inasmuch as I could see that +he wished me well, I told him all--or, rather, I did not tell him +EVERYTHING, for that I do to no man (I have not the heart to do it); I +told him just a few scattered details concerning my financial straits. +“Then you ought to borrow,” said he. “You ought to obtain a loan of +Peter Petrovitch, who does a little in that way. I myself once borrowed +some money of him, and he charged me fair and light interest.” Well, +Barbara, my heart leapt within me at these words. I kept thinking and +thinking,--if only God would put it into the mind of Peter Petrovitch +to be my benefactor by advancing me a loan! I calculated that with its +aid I might both repay my landlady and assist yourself and get rid of my +surroundings (where I can hardly sit down to table without the rascals +making jokes about me). Sometimes his Excellency passes our desk in +the office. He glances at me, and cannot but perceive how poorly I am +dressed. Now, neatness and cleanliness are two of his strongest points. +Even though he says nothing, I feel ready to die with shame when he +approaches. Well, hardening my heart, and putting my diffidence into my +ragged pocket, I approached Peter Petrovitch, and halted before him more +dead than alive. Yet I was hopeful, and though, as it turned out, he +was busily engaged in talking to Thedosei Ivanovitch, I walked up to him +from behind, and plucked at his sleeve. He looked away from me, but I +recited my speech about thirty roubles, et cetera, et cetera, of which, +at first, he failed to catch the meaning. Even when I had explained +matters to him more fully, he only burst out laughing, and said nothing. +Again I addressed to him my request; whereupon, asking me what security +I could give, he again buried himself in his papers, and went on writing +without deigning me even a second glance. Dismay seized me. “Peter +Petrovitch,” I said, “I can offer you no security,” but to this I added +an explanation that some salary would, in time, be due to me, which +I would make over to him, and account the loan my first debt. At +that moment someone called him away, and I had to wait a little. On +returning, he began to mend his pen as though he had not even noticed +that I was there. But I was for myself this time. “Peter Petrovitch,” I +continued, “can you not do ANYTHING?” Still he maintained silence, and +seemed not to have heard me. I waited and waited. At length I determined +to make a final attempt, and plucked him by the sleeve. He muttered +something, and, his pen mended, set about his writing. There was nothing +for me to do but to depart. He and the rest of them are worthy fellows, +dearest--that I do not doubt--but they are also proud, very proud. What +have I to do with them? Yet I thought I would write and tell you all +about it. Meanwhile Emelia Ivanovitch had been encouraging me with nods +and smiles. He is a good soul, and has promised to recommend me to a +friend of his who lives in Viborskaia Street and lends money. Emelia +declares that this friend will certainly lend me a little; so tomorrow, +beloved, I am going to call upon the gentleman in question.... What do +you think about it? It would be a pity not to obtain a loan. My landlady +is on the point of turning me out of doors, and has refused to allow me +any more board. Also, my boots are wearing through, and have lost every +button--and I do not possess another pair! Could anyone in a government +office display greater shabbiness? It is dreadful, my Barbara--it is +simply dreadful! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 4th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God’s sake borrow some money as +soon as you can. I would not ask this help of you were it not for the +situation in which I am placed. Thedora and myself cannot remain any +longer in our present lodgings, for we have been subjected to great +unpleasantness, and you cannot imagine my state of agitation and +dismay. The reason is that this morning we received a visit from an +elderly--almost an old--man whose breast was studded with orders. +Greatly surprised, I asked him what he wanted (for at the moment Thedora +had gone out shopping); whereupon he began to question me as to my +mode of life and occupation, and then, without waiting for an answer, +informed me that he was uncle to the officer of whom you have spoken; +that he was very angry with his nephew for the way in which the latter +had behaved, especially with regard to his slandering of me right and +left; and that he, the uncle, was ready to protect me from the young +spendthrift’s insolence. Also, he advised me to have nothing to say to +young fellows of that stamp, and added that he sympathised with me as +though he were my own father, and would gladly help me in any way he +could. At this I blushed in some confusion, but did not greatly hasten +to thank him. Next, he took me forcibly by the hand, and, tapping my +cheek, said that I was very good-looking, and that he greatly liked the +dimples in my face (God only knows what he meant!). Finally he tried to +kiss me, on the plea that he was an old man, the brute! At this moment +Thedora returned; whereupon, in some confusion, he repeated that he felt +a great respect for my modesty and virtue, and that he much wished to +become acquainted with me; after which he took Thedora aside, and tried, +on some pretext or another, to give her money (though of course she +declined it). At last he took himself off--again reiterating his +assurances, and saying that he intended to return with some earrings as +a present; that he advised me to change my lodgings; and, that he could +recommend me a splendid flat which he had in his mind’s eye as likely to +cost me nothing. Yes, he also declared that he greatly liked me for my +purity and good sense; that I must beware of dissolute young men; and +that he knew Anna Thedorovna, who had charged him to inform me that she +would shortly be visiting me in person. Upon that, I understood all. +What I did next I scarcely know, for I had never before found myself in +such a position; but I believe that I broke all restraints, and made the +old man feel thoroughly ashamed of himself--Thedora helping me in the +task, and well-nigh turning him neck and crop out of the tenement. +Neither of us doubt that this is Anna Thedorovna’s work--for how +otherwise could the old man have got to know about us? + +Now, therefore, Makar Alexievitch, I turn to you for help. Do not, for +God’s sake, leave me in this plight. Borrow all the money that you can +get, for I have not the wherewithal to leave these lodgings, yet cannot +possibly remain in them any longer. At all events, this is Thedora’s +advice. She and I need at least twenty-five roubles, which I will repay +you out of what I earn by my work, while Thedora shall get me additional +work from day to day, so that, if there be heavy interest to pay on the +loan, you shall not be troubled with the extra burden. Nay, I will make +over to you all that I possess if only you will continue to help me. +Truly, I grieve to have to trouble you when you yourself are so hardly +situated, but my hopes rest upon you, and upon you alone. Goodbye, Makar +Alexievitch. Think of me, and may God speed you on your errand! + +B.D. + + + + +August 4th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--These unlooked-for blows have shaken me +terribly, and these strange calamities have quite broken my spirit. +Not content with trying to bring you to a bed of sickness, these +lickspittles and pestilent old men are trying to bring me to the same. +And I assure you that they are succeeding--I assure you that they are. +Yet I would rather die than not help you. If I cannot help you I SHALL +die; but, to enable me to help you, you must flee like a bird out of the +nest where these owls, these birds of prey, are seeking to peck you to +death. How distressed I feel, my dearest! Yet how cruel you yourself +are! Although you are enduring pain and insult, although you, little +nestling, are in agony of spirit, you actually tell me that it grieves +you to disturb me, and that you will work off your debt to me with the +labour of your own hands! In other words, you, with your weak health, +are proposing to kill yourself in order to relieve me to term of my +financial embarrassments! Stop a moment, and think what you are saying. +WHY should you sew, and work, and torture your poor head with anxiety, +and spoil your beautiful eyes, and ruin your health? Why, indeed? Ah, +little Barbara, little Barbara! Do you not see that I shall never be any +good to you, never any good to you? At all events, I myself see it. Yet +I WILL help you in your distress. I WILL overcome every difficulty, I +WILL get extra work to do, I WILL copy out manuscripts for authors, +I WILL go to the latter and force them to employ me, I WILL so apply +myself to the work that they shall see that I am a good copyist (and +good copyists, I know, are always in demand). Thus there will be no need +for you to exhaust your strength, nor will I allow you to do so--I will +not have you carry out your disastrous intention... Yes, little angel, +I will certainly borrow some money. I would rather die than not do +so. Merely tell me, my own darling, that I am not to shrink from heavy +interest, and I will not shrink from it, I will not shrink from it--nay, +I will shrink from nothing. I will ask for forty roubles, to begin with. +That will not be much, will it, little Barbara? Yet will any one trust +me even with that sum at the first asking? Do you think that I am +capable of inspiring confidence at the first glance? Would the mere +sight of my face lead any one to form of me a favourable opinion? Have I +ever been able, remember you, to appear to anyone in a favourable light? +What think you? Personally, I see difficulties in the way, and feel sick +at heart at the mere prospect. However, of those forty roubles I mean +to set aside twenty-five for yourself, two for my landlady, and the +remainder for my own spending. Of course, I ought to give more than +two to my landlady, but you must remember my necessities, and see for +yourself that that is the most that can be assigned to her. We need say +no more about it. For one rouble I shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for +I scarcely know whether my old ones will take me to the office tomorrow +morning. Also, a new neck-scarf is indispensable, seeing that the old +one has now passed its first year; but, since you have promised to make +of your old apron not only a scarf, but also a shirt-front, I need think +no more of the article in question. So much for shoes and scarves. Next, +for buttons. You yourself will agree that I cannot do without buttons; +nor is there on my garments a single hem unfrayed. I tremble when I +think that some day his Excellency may perceive my untidiness, and +say--well, what will he NOT say? Yet I shall never hear what he says, +for I shall have expired where I sit--expired of mere shame at the +thought of having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest!... Well, my various +necessities will have left me three roubles to go on with. Part of +this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco--for I cannot live +without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put a pipe into my +mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco without acquainting +you with the fact, although I ought not so to do. The pity of it all is +that, while you are depriving yourself of everything, I keep solacing +myself with various amenities--which is why I am telling you this, that +the pangs of conscience may not torment me. Frankly, I confess that I +am in desperate straits--in such straits as I have never yet known. My +landlady flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of no one; my arrears and +debts are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the +place exactly a paradise, no one has a single word to say to me. Yet I +hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide my person in +the same way, were it not that daily I have to attend the office where +I have to be constantly on my guard against my fellows. Nevertheless, +merely to be able to CONFESS this to you renews my spiritual strength. +We must not think of these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them +break our courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of +them, nor to torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my God, what +is to become of us? Stay where you are until I can come to you; after +which I shall not return hither, but simply disappear. Now I have +finished my letter, and must go and shave myself, inasmuch as, when that +is done, one always feels more decent, as well as consorts more easily +with decency. God speed me! One prayer to Him, and I must be off. + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 5th. + +DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--You must not despair. Away with melancholy! +I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret that I cannot send +you more. Buy yourself what you most need until tomorrow. I myself have +almost nothing left, and what I am going to do I know not. Is it not +dreadful, Makar Alexievitch? Yet do not be downcast--it is no good being +that. Thedora declares that it would not be a bad thing if we were to +remain in this tenement, since if we left it suspicions would arise, and +our enemies might take it into their heads to look for us. On the other +hand, I do not think it would be well for us to remain here. If I were +feeling less sad I would tell you my reason. + +What a strange man you are, Makar Alexievitch! You take things so much +to heart that you never know what it is to be happy. I read your letters +attentively, and can see from them that, though you worry and disturb +yourself about me, you never give a thought to yourself. Yes, every +letter tells me that you have a kind heart; but I tell YOU that that +heart is overly kind. So I will give you a little friendly advice, Makar +Alexievitch. I am full of gratitude towards you--I am indeed full for +all that you have done for me, I am most sensible of your goodness; +but, to think that I should be forced to see that, in spite of your own +troubles (of which I have been the involuntary cause), you live for me +alone--you live but for MY joys and MY sorrows and MY affection! If you +take the affairs of another person so to heart, and suffer with her to +such an extent, I do not wonder that you yourself are unhappy. Today, +when you came to see me after office-work was done, I felt afraid even +to raise my eyes to yours, for you looked so pale and desperate, and +your face had so fallen in. Yes, you were dreading to have to tell me +of your failure to borrow money--you were dreading to have to grieve and +alarm me; but, when you saw that I came very near to smiling, the load +was, I know, lifted from your heart. So do not be despondent, do not +give way, but allow more rein to your better sense. I beg and implore +this of you, for it will not be long before you see things take a turn +for the better. You will but spoil your life if you constantly lament +another person’s sorrow. Goodbye, dear friend. I beseech you not to be +over-anxious about me. + +B. D. + + + + +August 5th. + +MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,--This is well, this is well, my angel! So you +are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain any money does +not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am happy on your account. +Also, I am delighted to think that you are not going to desert your old +friend, but intend to remain in your present lodgings. Indeed, my heart +was overcharged with joy when I read in your letter those kindly words +about myself, as well as a not wholly unmerited recognition of my +sentiments. I say this not out of pride, but because now I know how much +you love me to be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to +think that I may speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be +faint-hearted. Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for +instance, of the pair of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office +tomorrow! The fact is that over-brooding proves the undoing of a +man--his complete undoing. What has saved me is the fact that it is not +for myself that I am grieving, that I am suffering, but for YOU. Nor +would it matter to me in the least that I should have to walk through +the bitter cold without an overcoat or boots--I could bear it, I could +well endure it, for I am a simple man in my requirements; but the point +is--what would people say, what would every envious and hostile tongue +exclaim, when I was seen without an overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that +one wears an overcoat and boots. In any case, therefore, I should have +needed boots to maintain my name and reputation; to both of which my +ragged footgear would otherwise have spelled ruin. Yes, it is so, +my beloved, and you may believe an old man who has had many years of +experience, and knows both the world and mankind, rather than a set of +scribblers and daubers. + +But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with me +today. During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit as might +have been experienced in a year. ‘Twas like this: First of all, I went +out to call upon the gentleman of whom I have spoken. I started very +early, before going to the office. Rain and sleet were falling, and +I hugged myself in my greatcoat as I walked along. “Lord,” thought I, +“pardon my offences, and send me fulfilment of all my desires;” and as +I passed a church I crossed myself, repented of my sins, and reminded +myself that I was unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then +I retired into myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking +without noticing the streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything had an +empty air, and everyone whom I met looked careworn and preoccupied, and +no wonder, for who would choose to walk abroad at such an early hour, +and in such weather? Next a band of ragged workmen met me, and jostled +me boorishly as they passed; upon which nervousness overtook me, and +I felt uneasy, and tried hard not to think of the money that was +my errand. Near the Voskresenski Bridge my feet began to ache with +weariness, until I could hardly pull myself along; until presently I met +with Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping aside, halted, and +followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a glass of vodka. “Ah, +friend,” thought I, “go YOU to your vodka, but what have I to do with +such stuff?” Then, sadly weary, I halted for a moment’s rest, and +thereafter dragged myself further on my way. Purposely I kept looking +about me for something upon which to fasten my thoughts, with which to +distract, to encourage myself; but there was nothing. Not a single idea +could I connect with any given object, while, in addition, my appearance +was so draggled that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I perceived +from afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I thought, +must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia Ivanovitch had +mentioned to me as ready to lend money on interest. Half unconscious +of what I was doing, I asked a watchman if he could tell me to whom the +house belonged; whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed at +something, the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL +watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any case I +felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to like, and, no +matter what position one is in, things invariably appear to correspond +to it. Three times did I pass the house and walk the length of the +street; until the further I walked, the worse became my state of mind. +“No, never, never will he lend me anything!” I thought to myself, “He +does not know me, and my affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I +shall cut a sorry figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let +Heaven send that I do not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart +with remorse!” Softly I opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great ragged +brute of a watch-dog came flying out at me, and foaming at the mouth, +and nearly jumping out his skin! Curious is it to note what little, +trivial incidents will nearly make a man crazy, and strike terror to his +heart, and annihilate the firm purpose with which he has armed himself. +At all events, I approached the house more dead than alive, and walked +straight into another catastrophe. That is to say, not noticing the +slipperiness of the threshold, I stumbled against an old woman who +was filling milk-jugs from a pail, and sent the milk flying in every +direction! The foolish old dame gave a start and a cry, and then +demanded of me whither I had been coming, and what it was I wanted; +after which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I found +something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of this nature. +It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into something. Upon that, +the noise and the commotion brought out the mistress of the house--an +old beldame of mean appearance. I addressed myself directly to her: +“Does Monsieur Markov live here?” was my inquiry. “No,” she replied, and +then stood looking at me civilly enough. “But what want you with him?” + she continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and +the rest of the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her +daughter--a barefooted girl in her teens--and told her to summon her +father from upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room which contained +several portraits of generals on the walls and was furnished with a +sofa, a large table, and a few pots of mignonette and balsam. “Shall I, +or shall I not (come weal, come woe) take myself off?” was my thought as +I waited there. Ah, how I longed to run away! “Yes,” I continued, “I had +better come again tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I +shall not have upset the milk, and these generals will not be looking at +me so fiercely.” In fact, I had actually begun to move towards the door +when Monsieur Markov entered--a grey-headed man with thievish eyes, and +clad in a dirty dressing-gown fastened with a belt. Greetings over, I +stumbled out something about Emelia Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and +then came to a dead halt, for his eyes told me that my errand had been +futile. “No.” said he, “I have no money. Moreover, what security +could you offer?” I admitted that I could offer none, but again added +something about Emelia, as well as about my pressing needs. Markov heard +me out, and then repeated that he had no money. “Ah,” thought I, “I +might have known this--I might have foreseen it!” And, to tell the +truth, Barbara, I could have wished that the earth had opened under my +feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what he did, so numbed did my +legs grow as shivers began to run down my back. Thus I remained gazing +at him while he returned my gaze with a look which said, “Well now, +my friend? Why do you not go since you have no further business to do +here?” Somehow I felt conscience-stricken. “How is it that you are in +such need of money?” was what he appeared to be asking; whereupon, I +opened my mouth (anything rather than stand there to no purpose at all!) +but found that he was not even listening. “I have no money,” again he +said, “or I would lend you some with pleasure.” Several times I repeated +that I myself possessed a little, and that I would repay any loan +from him punctually, most punctually, and that he might charge me what +interest he liked, since I would meet it without fail. Yes, at that +moment I remembered our misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered +your half-rouble. “No,” said he, “I can lend you nothing without +security,” and clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber! + +How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through Viborskaia +Street, to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not know. I only remember +that I felt terribly weary, cold, and starved, and that it was ten +o’clock before I reached the office. Arriving, I tried to clean myself +up a little, but Sniegirev, the porter, said that it was impossible for +me to do so, and that I should only spoil the brush, which belonged to +the Government. Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than +the mat on which they wipe their boots! What is it that will most +surely break me? It is not the want of money, but the LITTLE worries +of life--these whisperings and nods and jeers. Any day his Excellency +himself may round upon me. Ah, dearest, my golden days are gone. Today I +have spent in reading your letters through; and the reading of them has +made me sad. Goodbye, my own, and may the Lord watch over you! + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half +jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My one +desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come and see +you, dearest. Without fail I will come and see you. + + + + +August 11th. + +O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone--we are both of us undone! Both of +us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined--my reputation, my +self-respect, all that I have in the world! And you as much as I. Never +shall we retrieve what we have lost. I--I have brought you to this pass, +for I have become an outcast, my darling. Everywhere I am laughed at +and despised. Even my landlady has taken to abusing me. Today she +overwhelmed me with shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a +hearth-brush. And last night, when I was in Rataziaev’s rooms, one of +his friends began to read a scribbled note which I had written to +you, and then inadvertently pulled out of my pocket. Oh beloved, what +laughter there arose at the recital! How those scoundrels mocked and +derided you and myself! I walked up to them and accused Rataziaev of +breaking faith. I said that he had played the traitor. But he only +replied that I had been the betrayer in the case, by indulging in +various amours. “You have kept them very dark though, Mr. Lovelace!” + said he--and now I am known everywhere by this name of “Lovelace.” They +know EVERYTHING about us, my darling, EVERYTHING--both about you and +your affairs and about myself; and when today I was for sending Phaldoni +to the bakeshop for something or other, he refused to go, saying that +it was not his business. “But you MUST go,” said I. “I will not,” he +replied. “You have not paid my mistress what you owe her, so I am not +bound to run your errands.” At such an insult from a raw peasant I lost +my temper, and called him a fool; to which he retorted in a similar +vein. Upon this I thought that he must be drunk, and told him so; +whereupon he replied: “WHAT say you that I am? Suppose you yourself go +and sober up, for I know that the other day you went to visit a woman, +and that you got drunk with her on two grivenniks.” To such a pass have +things come! I feel ashamed to be seen alive. I am, as it were, a man +proclaimed; I am in a worse plight even than a tramp who has lost his +passport. How misfortunes are heaping themselves upon me! I am lost--I +am lost for ever! + +M. D. + + + + +August 13th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--It is true that misfortune is following +upon misfortune. I myself scarcely know what to do. Yet, no matter how +you may be fairing, you must not look for help from me, for only today I +burned my left hand with the iron! At one and the same moment I dropped +the iron, made a mistake in my work, and burned myself! So now I can no +longer work. Also, these three days past, Thedora has been ailing. +My anxiety is becoming positively torturous. Nevertheless, I send you +thirty kopecks--almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as I +should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. +I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of mine. You +will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today. + +B. D. + + + + +August 14th. + +What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch? Surely you cannot +fear the Lord God as you ought to do? You are not only driving me to +distraction but also ruining yourself with this eternal solicitude for +your reputation. You are a man of honour, nobility of character, and +self-respect, as everyone knows; yet, at any moment, you are ready to +die with shame! Surely you should have more consideration for your grey +hairs. No, the fear of God has departed from you. Thedora has told you +that it is out of my power to render you anymore help. See, therefore, +to what a pass you have brought me! Probably you think it is nothing to +me that you should behave so badly; probably you do not realise what you +have made me suffer. I dare not set foot on the staircase here, for if +I do so I am stared at, and pointed at, and spoken about in the most +horrible manner. Yes, it is even said of me that I am “united to a +drunkard.” What a thing to hear! And whenever you are brought home drunk +folk say, “They are carrying in that tchinovnik.” THAT is not the proper +way to make me help you. I swear that I MUST leave this place, and go +and get work as a cook or a laundress. It is impossible for me to stay +here. Long ago I wrote and asked you to come and see me, yet you have +not come. Truly my tears and prayers must mean NOTHING to you, Makar +Alexievitch! Whence, too, did you get the money for your debauchery? For +the love of God be more careful of yourself, or you will be ruined. How +shameful, how abominable of you! So the landlady would not admit you +last night, and you spent the night on the doorstep? Oh, I know all +about it. Yet if only you could have seen my agony when I heard the +news!... Come and see me, Makar Alexievitch, and we will once more be +happy together. Yes, we will read together, and talk of old times, and +Thedora shall tell you of her pilgrimages in former days. For God’s sake +beloved, do not ruin both yourself and me. I live for you alone; it +is for your sake alone that I am still here. Be your better self once +more--the self which still can remain firm in the face of misfortune. +Poverty is no crime; always remember that. After all, why should we +despair? Our present difficulties will pass away, and God will right +us. Only be brave. I send you two grivenniks for the purchase of some +tobacco or anything else that you need; but, for the love of heaven, do +not spend the money foolishly. Come you and see me soon; come without +fail. Perhaps you may be ashamed to meet me, as you were before, but you +NEED not feel like that--such shame would be misplaced. Only do bring +with you sincere repentance and trust in God, who orders all things for +the best. + +B. D. + + + + +August 19th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,-Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my +darling--I AM ashamed. At the same time, what is there in all this? Why +should we not be cheerful again? Why should I mind the soles of my feet +coming through my boots? The sole of one’s foot is a mere bagatelle--it +will never be anything but just a base, dirty sole. And shoes do not +matter, either. The Greek sages used to walk about without them, so why +should we coddle ourselves with such things? Yet why, also, should I +be insulted and despised because of them? Tell Thedora that she is a +rubbishy, tiresome, gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly +foolish one. As for my grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, +inasmuch as I am not such an old man as you think. Emelia sends you +his greeting. You write that you are in great distress, and have been +weeping. Well, I too am in great distress, and have been weeping. Nay, +nay. I wish you the best of health and happiness, even as I am well and +happy myself, so long as I may remain, my darling,--Your friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 21st. + +MY DEAR AND KIND BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I feel that I am guilty, I feel +that I have sinned against you. Yet also I feel, from what you say, that +it is no use for me so to feel. Even before I had sinned I felt as I do +now; but I gave way to despair, and the more so as recognised my fault. +Darling, I am not cruel or hardhearted. To rend your little soul would +be the act of a blood-thirsty tiger, whereas I have the heart of a +sheep. You yourself know that I am not addicted to bloodthirstiness, +and therefore that I cannot really be guilty of the fault in question, +seeing that neither my mind nor my heart have participated in it. +Nor can I understand wherein the guilt lies. To me it is all a mystery. +When you sent me those thirty kopecks, and thereafter those two +grivenniks, my heart sank within me as I looked at the poor little +money. To think that though you had burned your hand, and would soon be +hungry, you could write to me that I was to buy tobacco! What was I to +do? Remorselessly to rob you, an orphan, as any brigand might do? I +felt greatly depressed, dearest. That is to say, persuaded that I should +never do any good with my life, and that I was inferior even to the +sole of my own boot, I took it into my head that it was absurd for me to +aspire at all--rather, that I ought to account myself a disgrace and an +abomination. Once a man has lost his self-respect, and has decided to +abjure his better qualities and human dignity, he falls headlong, and +cannot choose but do so. It is decreed of fate, and therefore I am not +guilty in this respect. That evening I went out merely to get a breath +of fresh air, but one thing followed another--the weather was cold, all +nature was looking mournful, and I had fallen in with Emelia. This man +had spent everything that he possessed, and, at the time I met him, had +not for two days tasted a crust of bread. He had tried to raise money by +pawning, but what articles he had for the purpose had been refused by +the pawnbrokers. It was more from sympathy for a fellow-man than from +any liking for the individual that I yielded. That is how the fault +arose, dearest. He spoke of you, and I mingled my tears with his. Yes, +he is a man of kind, kind heart--a man of deep feeling. I often feel as +he did, dearest, and, in addition, I know how beholden to you I am. As +soon as ever I got to know you I began both to realise myself and to +love you; for until you came into my life I had been a lonely man--I had +been, as it were, asleep rather than alive. In former days my rascally +colleagues used to tell me that I was unfit even to be seen; in fact, +they so disliked me that at length I began to dislike myself, for, being +frequently told that I was stupid, I began to believe that I really was +so. But the instant that YOU came into my life, you lightened the dark +places in it, you lightened both my heart and my soul. Gradually, I +gained rest of spirit, until I had come to see that I was no worse than +other men, and that, though I had neither style nor brilliancy nor +polish, I was still a MAN as regards my thoughts and feelings. But now, +alas! pursued and scorned of fate, I have again allowed myself to abjure +my own dignity. Oppressed of misfortune, I have lost my courage. Here is +my confession to you, dearest. With tears I beseech you not to inquire +further into the matter, for my heart is breaking, and life has grown +indeed hard and bitter for me--Beloved, I offer you my respect, and +remain ever your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 3rd. + +The reason why I did not finish my last letter, Makar Alexievitch, was +that I found it so difficult to write. There are moments when I am glad +to be alone--to grieve and repine without any one to share my sorrow: +and those moments are beginning to come upon me with ever-increasing +frequency. Always in my reminiscences I find something which is +inexplicable, yet strongly attractive--so much so that for hours together +I remain insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. Indeed, +in my present life there is not a single impression that I +encounter--pleasant or the reverse--which does not recall to my mind +something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly is this the +case with regard to my childhood, my golden childhood. Yet such moments +always leave me depressed. They render me weak, and exhaust my powers of +fancy; with the result that my health, already not good, grows steadily +worse. + +However, this morning it is a fine, fresh, cloudless day, such as we +seldom get in autumn. The air has revived me and I greet it with joy. +Yet to think that already the fall of the year has come! How I used +to love the country in autumn! Then but a child, I was yet a sensitive +being who loved autumn evenings better than autumn mornings. I remember +how beside our house, at the foot of a hill, there lay a large pond, and +how the pond--I can see it even now!--shone with a broad, level surface +that was as clear as crystal. On still evenings this pond would be at +rest, and not a rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks +and overhung the motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to seem, +yet how cold! The dew would be falling upon the turf, lights would be +beginning to shine forth from the huts on the pond’s margin, and the +cattle would be wending their way home. Then quietly I would slip out +of the house to look at my beloved pond, and forget myself in +contemplation. Here and there a fisherman’s bundle of brushwood would be +burning at the water’s edge, and sending its light far and wide over +the surface. Above, the sky would be of a cold blue colour, save for a +fringe of flame-coloured streaks on the horizon that kept turning ever +paler and paler; and when the moon had come out there would be wafted +through the limpid air the sounds of a frightened bird fluttering, of a +bulrush rubbing against its fellows in the gentle breeze, and of a fish +rising with a splash. Over the dark water there would gather a thin, +transparent mist; and though, in the distance, night would be looming, +and seemingly enveloping the entire horizon, everything closer at hand +would be standing out as though shaped with a chisel--banks, boats, +little islands, and all. Beside the margin a derelict barrel would be +turning over and over in the water; a switch of laburnum, with yellowing +leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; and a belated gull +would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise once more, and +disappear into the mist. How I would watch and listen to these things! +How strangely good they all would seem! But I was a mere infant in those +days--a mere child. + +Yes, truly I loved autumn-tide--the late autumn when the crops are +garnered, and field work is ended, and the evening gatherings in the +huts have begun, and everyone is awaiting winter. Then does everything +become more mysterious, the sky frowns with clouds, yellow leaves strew +the paths at the edge of the naked forest, and the forest itself turns +black and blue--more especially at eventide when damp fog is spreading +and the trees glimmer in the depths like giants, like formless, weird +phantoms. Perhaps one may be out late, and had got separated from one’s +companions. Oh horrors! Suddenly one starts and trembles as one seems to +see a strange-looking being peering from out of the darkness of a hollow +tree, while all the while the wind is moaning and rattling and howling +through the forest--moaning with a hungry sound as it strips the leaves +from the bare boughs, and whirls them into the air. High over the +tree-tops, in a widespread, trailing, noisy crew, there fly, with +resounding cries, flocks of birds which seem to darken and overlay the +very heavens. Then a strange feeling comes over one, until one seems to +hear the voice of some one whispering: “Run, run, little child! Do not +be out late, for this place will soon have become dreadful! Run, little +child! Run!” And at the words terror will possess one’s soul, and one +will rush and rush until one’s breath is spent--until, panting, one has +reached home. At home, however, all will look bright and bustling as we +children are set to shell peas or poppies, and the damp twigs crackle in +the stove, and our mother comes to look fondly at our work, and our old +nurse, Iliana, tells us stories of bygone days, or terrible legends +concerning wizards and dead men. At the recital we little ones will +press closer to one another, yet smile as we do so; when suddenly, +everyone becomes silent. Surely somebody has knocked at the door?... But +nay, nay; it is only the sound of Frolovna’s spinning-wheel. What shouts +of laughter arise! Later one will be unable to sleep for fear of the +strange dreams which come to visit one; or, if one falls asleep, one +will soon wake again, and, afraid to stir, lie quaking under the +coverlet until dawn. And in the morning, one will arise as fresh as a +lark and look at the window, and see the fields overlaid with hoarfrost, +and fine icicles hanging from the naked branches, and the pond covered +over with ice as thin as paper, and a white steam rising from the +surface, and birds flying overhead with cheerful cries. Next, as the sun +rises, he throws his glittering beams everywhere, and melts the thin, +glassy ice until the whole scene has come to look bright and clear and +exhilarating; and as the fire begins to crackle again in the stove, we +sit down to the tea-urn, while, chilled with the night cold, our black +dog, Polkan, will look in at us through the window, and wag his tail +with a cheerful air. Presently, a peasant will pass the window in his +cart bound for the forest to cut firewood, and the whole party will feel +merry and contented together. Abundant grain lies stored in the byres, +and great stacks of wheat are glowing comfortably in the morning +sunlight. Everyone is quiet and happy, for God has blessed us with a +bounteous harvest, and we know that there will be abundance of food for +the wintertide. Yes, the peasant may rest assured that his family will +not want for aught. Song and dance will arise at night from the village +girls, and on festival days everyone will repair to God’s house to thank +Him with grateful tears for what He has done.... Ah, a golden time was +my time of childhood!... + +Carried away by these memories, I could weep like a child. Everything, +everything comes back so clearly to my recollection! The past stands out +so vividly before me! Yet in the present everything looks dim and dark! +How will it all end?--how? Do you know, I have a feeling, a sort of +sure premonition, that I am going to die this coming autumn; for I feel +terribly, oh so terribly ill! Often do I think of death, yet feel that +I should not like to die here and be laid to rest in the soil of St. +Petersburg. Once more I have had to take to my bed, as I did last +spring, for I have never really recovered. Indeed I feel so depressed! +Thedora has gone out for the day, and I am alone. For a long while past +I have been afraid to be left by myself, for I keep fancying that there +is someone else in the room, and that that someone is speaking to me. +Especially do I fancy this when I have gone off into a reverie, and then +suddenly awoken from it, and am feeling bewildered. That is why I have +made this letter such a long one; for, when I am writing, the mood +passes away. Goodbye. I have neither time nor paper left for more, and +must close. Of the money which I saved to buy a new dress and hat, there +remains but a single rouble; but, I am glad that you have been able to +pay your landlady two roubles, for they will keep her tongue quiet for a +time. And you must repair your wardrobe. + +Goodbye once more. I am so tired! Nor can I think why I am growing so +weak--why it is that even the smallest task now wearies me? Even if work +should come my way, how am I to do it? That is what worries me above all +things. + +B. D. + + + + +September 5th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA,--Today I have undergone a variety of experiences. In +the first place, my head has been aching, and towards evening I went out +to get a breath of fresh air along the Fontanka Canal. The weather was +dull and damp, and even by six o’clock, darkness had begun to set in. +True, rain was not actually falling, but only a mist like rain, while +the sky was streaked with masses of trailing cloud. Crowds of people +were hurrying along Naberezhnaia Street, with faces that looked strange +and dejected. There were drunken peasants; snub-nosed old harridans in +slippers; bareheaded artisans; cab drivers; every species of beggar; +boys; a locksmith’s apprentice in a striped smock, with lean, emaciated +features which seemed to have been washed in rancid oil; an ex-soldier +who was offering penknives and copper rings for sale; and so on, and +so on. It was the hour when one would expect to meet no other folk than +these. And what a quantity of boats there were on the canal. It made +one wonder how they could all find room there. On every bridge were +old women selling damp gingerbread or withered apples, and every woman +looked as damp and dirty as her wares. In short, the Fontanka is a +saddening spot for a walk, for there is wet granite under one’s feet, +and tall, dingy buildings on either side of one, and wet mist below and +wet mist above. Yes, all was dark and gloomy there this evening. + +By the time I had returned to Gorokhovaia Street darkness had fallen +and the lamps had been lit. However, I did not linger long in that +particular spot, for Gorokhovaia Street is too noisy a place. But +what sumptuous shops and stores it contains! Everything sparkles and +glitters, and the windows are full of nothing but bright colours and +materials and hats of different shapes. One might think that they were +decked merely for display; but no,--people buy these things, and give +them to their wives! Yes, it IS a sumptuous place. Hordes of German +hucksters are there, as well as quite respectable traders. And the +quantities of carriages which pass along the street! One marvels that +the pavement can support so many splendid vehicles, with windows like +crystal, linings made of silk and velvet, and lacqueys dressed in +epaulets and wearing swords! Into some of them I glanced, and saw that +they contained ladies of various ages. Perhaps they were princesses and +countesses! Probably at that hour such folk would be hastening to balls +and other gatherings. In fact, it was interesting to be able to look so +closely at a princess or a great lady. They were all very fine. At +all events, I had never before seen such persons as I beheld in those +carriages.... + +Then I thought of you. Ah, my own, my darling, it is often that I think +of you and feel my heart sink. How is it that YOU are so unfortunate, +Barbara? How is it that YOU are so much worse off than other people? In +my eyes you are kind-hearted, beautiful, and clever--why, then, has +such an evil fate fallen to your lot? How comes it that you are left +desolate--you, so good a human being! While to others happiness comes +without an invitation at all? Yes, I know--I know it well--that I ought +not to say it, for to do so savours of free-thought; but why should that +raven, Fate, croak out upon the fortunes of one person while she is yet +in her mother’s womb, while another person it permits to go forth in +happiness from the home which has reared her? To even an idiot of +an Ivanushka such happiness is sometimes granted. “You, you fool +Ivanushka,” says Fate, “shall succeed to your grandfather’s money-bags, +and eat, drink, and be merry; whereas YOU (such and such another one) +shall do no more than lick the dish, since that is all that you are +good for.” Yes, I know that it is wrong to hold such opinions, but +involuntarily the sin of so doing grows upon one’s soul. Nevertheless, +it is you, my darling, who ought to be riding in one of those carriages. +Generals would have come seeking your favour, and, instead of being +clad in a humble cotton dress, you would have been walking in silken +and golden attire. Then you would not have been thin and wan as now, +but fresh and plump and rosy-cheeked as a figure on a sugar-cake. Then +should I too have been happy--happy if only I could look at your lighted +windows from the street, and watch your shadow--happy if only I could +think that you were well and happy, my sweet little bird! Yet how are +things in reality? Not only have evil folk brought you to ruin, but +there comes also an old rascal of a libertine to insult you! Just +because he struts about in a frockcoat, and can ogle you through a +gold-mounted lorgnette, the brute thinks that everything will fall into +his hands--that you are bound to listen to his insulting condescension! +Out upon him! But why is this? It is because you are an orphan, it is +because you are unprotected, it is because you have no powerful friend +to afford you the decent support which is your due. WHAT do such facts +matter to a man or to men to whom the insulting of an orphan is an +offence allowed? Such fellows are not men at all, but mere vermin, no +matter what they think themselves to be. Of that I am certain. Why, +an organ-grinder whom I met in Gorokhovaia Street would inspire more +respect than they do, for at least he walks about all day, and suffers +hunger--at least he looks for a stray, superfluous groat to earn him +subsistence, and is, therefore, a true gentleman, in that he supports +himself. To beg alms he would be ashamed; and, moreover, he works for +the benefit of mankind just as does a factory machine. “So far as in me +lies,” says he, “I will give you pleasure.” True, he is a pauper, and +nothing but a pauper; but, at least he is an HONOURABLE pauper. Though +tired and hungry, he still goes on working--working in his own peculiar +fashion, yet still doing honest labour. Yes, many a decent fellow whose +labour may be disproportionate to its utility pulls the forelock to no +one, and begs his bread of no one. I myself resemble that organ-grinder. +That is to say, though not exactly he, I resemble him in this respect, +that I work according to my capabilities, and so far as in me lies. More +could be asked of no one; nor ought I to be adjudged to do more. + +Apropos of the organ-grinder, I may tell you, dearest, that today +I experienced a double misfortune. As I was looking at the grinder, +certain thoughts entered my head and I stood wrapped in a reverie. Some +cabmen also had halted at the spot, as well as a young girl, with a +yet smaller girl who was dressed in rags and tatters. These people had +halted there to listen to the organ-grinder, who was playing in front +of some one’s windows. Next, I caught sight of a little urchin of about +ten--a boy who would have been good-looking but for the fact that his +face was pinched and sickly. Almost barefooted, and clad only in a +shirt, he was standing agape to listen to the music--a pitiful childish +figure. Nearer to the grinder a few more urchins were dancing, but +in the case of this lad his hands and feet looked numbed, and he kept +biting the end of his sleeve and shivering. Also, I noticed that in his +hands he had a paper of some sort. Presently a gentleman came by, and +tossed the grinder a small coin, which fell straight into a box adorned +with a representation of a Frenchman and some ladies. The instant he +heard the rattle of the coin, the boy started, looked timidly round, and +evidently made up his mind that I had thrown the money; whereupon, he +ran to me with his little hands all shaking, and said in a tremulous +voice as he proffered me his paper: “Pl-please sign this.” I turned over +the paper, and saw that there was written on it what is usual under +such circumstances. “Kind friends I am a sick mother with three hungry +children. Pray help me. Though soon I shall be dead, yet, if you will +not forget my little ones in this world, neither will I forget you in +the world that is to come.” The thing seemed clear enough; it was a +matter of life and death. Yet what was I to give the lad? Well, I gave +him nothing. But my heart ached for him. I am certain that, shivering +with cold though he was, and perhaps hungry, the poor lad was not lying. +No, no, he was not lying. The shameful point is that so many mothers +take no care of their children, but send them out, half-clad, into the +cold. Perhaps this lad’s mother also was a feckless old woman, and +devoid of character? Or perhaps she had no one to work for her, but was +forced to sit with her legs crossed--a veritable invalid? Or perhaps she +was just an old rogue who was in the habit of sending out pinched and +hungry boys to deceive the public? What would such a boy learn from +begging letters? His heart would soon be rendered callous, for, as he +ran about begging, people would pass him by and give him nothing. Yes, +their hearts would be as stone, and their replies rough and harsh. “Away +with you!” they would say. “You are seeking but to trick us.” He would +hear that from every one, and his heart would grow hard, and he would +shiver in vain with the cold, like some poor little fledgling that has +fallen out of the nest. His hands and feet would be freezing, and his +breath coming with difficulty; until, look you, he would begin to cough, +and disease, like an unclean parasite, would worm its way into his +breast until death itself had overtaken him--overtaken him in some +foetid corner whence there was no chance of escape. Yes, that is what +his life would become. There are many such cases. Ah, Barbara, it is +hard to hear “For Christ’s sake!” and yet pass the suppliant by and give +nothing, or say merely: “May the Lord give unto you!” Of course, SOME +supplications mean nothing (for supplications differ greatly in +character). Occasionally supplications are long, drawn-out and drawling, +stereotyped and mechanical--they are purely begging supplications. +Requests of this kind it is less hard to refuse, for they are purely +professional and of long standing. “The beggar is overdoing it,” one +thinks to oneself. “He knows the trick too well.” But there are other +supplications which voice a strange, hoarse, unaccustomed note, like +that today when I took the poor boy’s paper. He had been standing by the +kerbstone without speaking to anybody--save that at last to myself he +said, “For the love of Christ give me a groat!” in a voice so hoarse and +broken that I started, and felt a queer sensation in my heart, although +I did not give him a groat. Indeed, I had not a groat on me. Rich folk +dislike hearing poor people complain of their poverty. “They disturb +us,” they say, “and are impertinent as well. Why should poverty be so +impertinent? Why should its hungry moans prevent us from sleeping?” + +To tell you the truth, my darling, I have written the foregoing not +merely to relieve my feelings, but, also, still more, to give you an +example of the excellent style in which I can write. You yourself will +recognise that my style was formed long ago, but of late such fits of +despondency have seized upon me that my style has begun to correspond +to my feelings; and though I know that such correspondence gains one +little, it at least renders one a certain justice. For not unfrequently +it happens that, for some reason or another, one feels abased, and +inclined to value oneself at nothing, and to account oneself lower than +a dishclout; but this merely arises from the fact that at the time one +is feeling harassed and depressed, like the poor boy who today asked of +me alms. Let me tell you an allegory, dearest, and do you hearken to it. +Often, as I hasten to the office in the morning, I look around me at +the city--I watch it awaking, getting out of bed, lighting its fires, +cooking its breakfast, and becoming vocal; and at the sight, I begin to +feel smaller, as though some one had dealt me a rap on my inquisitive +nose. Yes, at such times I slink along with a sense of utter humiliation +in my heart. For one would have but to see what is passing within those +great, black, grimy houses of the capital, and to penetrate within their +walls, for one at once to realise what good reason there is for self- +depredation and heart-searching. Of course, you will note that I am +speaking figuratively rather than literally. Let us look at what is +passing within those houses. In some dingy corner, perhaps, in some damp +kennel which is supposed to be a room, an artisan has just awakened from +sleep. All night he has dreamt--IF such an insignificant fellow is +capable of dreaming?--about the shoes which last night he mechanically +cut out. He is a master-shoemaker, you see, and therefore able to think +of nothing but his one subject of interest. Nearby are some squalling +children and a hungry wife. Nor is he the only man that has to greet the +day in this fashion. Indeed, the incident would be nothing--it would not +be worth writing about, save for another circumstance. In that same +house ANOTHER person--a person of great wealth--may also have been +dreaming of shoes; but, of shoes of a very different pattern and fashion +(in a manner of speaking, if you understand my metaphor, we are all of +us shoemakers). This, again, would be nothing, were it not that the rich +person has no one to whisper in his ear: “Why dost thou think of such +things? Why dost thou think of thyself alone, and live only for thyself- +-thou who art not a shoemaker? THY children are not ailing. THY wife is +not hungry. Look around thee. Can’st thou not find a subject more +fitting for thy thoughts than thy shoes?” That is what I want to say to +you in allegorical language, Barbara. Maybe it savours a little of free- +thought, dearest; but, such ideas WILL keep arising in my mind and +finding utterance in impetuous speech. Why, therefore, should one not +value oneself at a groat as one listens in fear and trembling to the +roar and turmoil of the city? Maybe you think that I am exaggerating +things--that this is a mere whim of mine, or that I am quoting from a +book? No, no, Barbara. You may rest assured that it is not so. +Exaggeration I abhor, with whims I have nothing to do, and of quotation +I am guiltless. + +I arrived home today in a melancholy mood. Sitting down to the table, I +had warmed myself some tea, and was about to drink a second glass of it, +when there entered Gorshkov, the poor lodger. Already, this morning, +I had noticed that he was hovering around the other lodgers, and also +seeming to want to speak to myself. In passing I may say that his +circumstances are infinitely worse than my own; for, only think of it, +he has a wife and children! Indeed, if I were he, I do not know what +I should do. Well, he entered my room, and bowed to me with the pus +standing, as usual, in drops on his eyelashes, his feet shuffling about, +and his tongue unable, at first, to articulate a word. I motioned him to +a chair (it was a dilapidated enough one, but I had no other), and asked +him to have a glass of tea. To this he demurred--for quite a long time +he demurred, but at length he accepted the offer. Next, he was for +drinking the tea without sugar, and renewed his excuses, but upon +the sugar I insisted. After long resistance and many refusals, he DID +consent to take some, but only the smallest possible lump; after which, +he assured me that his tea was perfectly sweet. To what depths of +humility can poverty reduce a man! “Well, what is it, my good sir?” I +inquired of him; whereupon he replied: “It is this, Makar Alexievitch. +You have once before been my benefactor. Pray again show me the charity +of God, and assist my unfortunate family. My wife and children have +nothing to eat. To think that a father should have to say this!” I was +about to speak again when he interrupted me. “You see,” he continued, +“I am afraid of the other lodgers here. That is to say, I am not so much +afraid of, as ashamed to address them, for they are a proud, conceited +lot of men. Nor would I have troubled even you, my friend and former +benefactor, were it not that I know that you yourself have experienced +misfortune and are in debt; wherefore, I have ventured to come and make +this request of you, in that I know you not only to be kind-hearted, but +also to be in need, and for that reason the more likely to sympathise +with me in my distress.” To this he added an apology for his awkwardness +and presumption. I replied that, glad though I should have been to +serve him, I had nothing, absolutely nothing, at my disposal. “Ah, Makar +Alexievitch,” he went on, “surely it is not much that I am asking of +you? My-my wife and children are starving. C-could you not afford me +just a grivennik?” At that my heart contracted, “How these people put me +to shame!” thought I. But I had only twenty kopecks left, and upon them +I had been counting for meeting my most pressing requirements. “No, good +sir, I cannot,” said I. “Well, what you will,” he persisted. “Perhaps +ten kopecks?” Well I got out my cash-box, and gave him the twenty. It +was a good deed. To think that such poverty should exist! Then I had +some further talk with him. “How is it,” I asked him, “that, though you +are in such straits, you have hired a room at five roubles?” He replied +that though, when he engaged the room six months ago, he paid three +months’ rent in advance, his affairs had subsequently turned out badly, +and never righted themselves since. You see, Barbara, he was sued at +law by a merchant who had defrauded the Treasury in the matter of a +contract. When the fraud was discovered the merchant was prosecuted, but +the transactions in which he had engaged involved Gorshkov, although +the latter had been guilty only of negligence, want of prudence, and +culpable indifference to the Treasury’s interests. True, the affair had +taken place some years ago, but various obstacles had since combined +to thwart Gorshkov. “Of the disgrace put upon me,” said he to me, “I am +innocent. True, I to a certain extent disobeyed orders, but never did +I commit theft or embezzlement.” Nevertheless the affair lost him +his character. He was dismissed the service, and though not adjudged +capitally guilty, has been unable since to recover from the merchant a +large sum of money which is his by right, as spared to him (Gorshkov) +by the legal tribunal. True, the tribunal in question did not altogether +believe in Gorshkov, but I do so. The matter is of a nature so complex +and crooked that probably a hundred years would be insufficient to +unravel it; and, though it has now to a certain extent been cleared up, +the merchant still holds the key to the situation. Personally I side +with Gorshkov, and am very sorry for him. Though lacking a post of any +kind, he still refuses to despair, though his resources are completely +exhausted. Yes, it is a tangled affair, and meanwhile he must live, for, +unfortunately, another child which has been born to him has entailed +upon the family fresh expenses. Also, another of his children recently +fell ill and died--which meant yet further expense. Lastly, not only is +his wife in bad health, but he himself is suffering from a complaint of +long standing. In short, he has had a very great deal to undergo. Yet he +declares that daily he expects a favourable issue to his affair--that he +has no doubt of it whatever. I am terribly sorry for him, and said what +I could to give him comfort, for he is a man who has been much bullied +and misled. He had come to me for protection from his troubles, so I did +my best to soothe him. Now, goodbye, my darling. May Christ watch over +you and preserve your health. Dearest one, even to think of you is like +medicine to my ailing soul. Though I suffer for you, I at least suffer +gladly.--Your true friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 9th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I am beside myself as I take up my pen, +for a most terrible thing has happened. My head is whirling round. Ah, +beloved, how am I to tell you about it all? I had never foreseen what +has happened. But no--I cannot say that I had NEVER foreseen it, for my +mind DID get an inkling of what was coming, through my seeing something +very similar to it in a dream. + +I will tell you the whole story--simply, and as God may put it into my +heart. Today I went to the office as usual, and, upon arrival, sat down +to write. You must know that I had been engaged on the same sort of +work yesterday, and that, while executing it, I had been approached by +Timothei Ivanovitch with an urgent request for a particular document. +“Makar Alexievitch,” he had said, “pray copy this out for me. Copy it +as quickly and as carefully as you can, for it will require to be signed +today.” Also let me tell you, dearest, that yesterday I had not been +feeling myself, nor able to look at anything. I had been troubled with +grave depression--my breast had felt chilled, and my head clouded. All +the while I had been thinking of you, my darling. Well, I set to work +upon the copying, and executed it cleanly and well, except for the +fact that, whether the devil confused my mind, or a mysterious fate so +ordained, or the occurrence was simply bound to happen, I left out a +whole line of the document, and thus made nonsense of it! The work had +been given me too late for signature last night, so it went before his +Excellency this morning. I reached the office at my usual hour, and sat +down beside Emelia Ivanovitch. Here I may remark that for a long time +past I have been feeling twice as shy and diffident as I used to do; I +have been finding it impossible to look people in the face. Let only +a chair creak, and I become more dead than alive. Today, therefore, I +crept humbly to my seat and sat down in such a crouching posture that +Efim Akimovitch (the most touchy man in the world) said to me sotto +voce: “What on earth makes you sit like that, Makar Alexievitch?” Then +he pulled such a grimace that everyone near us rocked with laughter at +my expense. I stopped my ears, frowned, and sat without moving, for I +found this the best method of putting a stop to such merriment. All at +once I heard a bustle and a commotion and the sound of someone running +towards us. Did my ears deceive me? It was I who was being summoned in +peremptory tones! My heart started to tremble within me, though I could +not say why. I only know that never in my life before had it trembled +as it did then. Still I clung to my chair--and at that moment was hardly +myself at all. The voices were coming nearer and nearer, until they were +shouting in my ear: “Dievushkin! Dievushkin! Where is Dievushkin?” Then +at length I raised my eyes, and saw before me Evstafi Ivanovitch. He +said to me: “Makar Alexievitch, go at once to his Excellency. You have +made a mistake in a document.” That was all, but it was enough, was +it not? I felt dead and cold as ice--I felt absolutely deprived of the +power of sensation; but, I rose from my seat and went whither I had +been bidden. Through one room, through two rooms, through three rooms I +passed, until I was conducted into his Excellency’s cabinet itself. Of +my thoughts at that moment I can give no exact account. I merely saw his +Excellency standing before me, with a knot of people around him. I have +an idea that I did not salute him--that I forgot to do so. Indeed, +so panic-stricken was I, that my teeth were chattering and my knees +knocking together. In the first place, I was greatly ashamed of my +appearance (a glance into a mirror on the right had frightened me with +the reflection of myself that it presented), and, in the second place, I +had always been accustomed to comport myself as though no such person +as I existed. Probably his Excellency had never before known that I was +even alive. Of course, he might have heard, in passing, that there was +a man named Dievushkin in his department; but never for a moment had he +had any intercourse with me. + +He began angrily: “What is this you have done, sir? Why are you not +more careful? The document was wanted in a hurry, and you have gone +and spoiled it. What do you think of it?”--the last being addressed +to Evstafi Ivanovitch. More I did not hear, except for some flying +exclamations of “What negligence and carelessness! How awkward this is!” + and so on. I opened my mouth to say something or other; I tried to +beg pardon, but could not. To attempt to leave the room, I had not +the hardihood. Then there happened something the recollection of which +causes the pen to tremble in my hand with shame. A button of mine--the +devil take it!--a button of mine that was hanging by a single thread +suddenly broke off, and hopped and skipped and rattled and rolled until +it had reached the feet of his Excellency himself--this amid a profound +general silence! THAT was what came of my intended self-justification +and plea for mercy! THAT was the only answer that I had to return to my +chief! The sequel I shudder to relate. At once his Excellency’s +attention became drawn to my figure and costume. I remembered what I had +seen in the mirror, and hastened to pursue the button. Obstinacy of a +sort seized upon me, and I did my best to arrest the thing, but it +slipped away, and kept turning over and over, so that I could not grasp +it, and made a sad spectacle of myself with my awkwardness. Then there +came over me a feeling that my last remaining strength was about to +leave me, and that all, all was lost--reputation, manhood, everything! +In both ears I seemed to hear the voices of Theresa and Phaldoni. At +length, however, I grasped the button, and, raising and straightening +myself, stood humbly with clasped hands--looking a veritable fool! But +no. First of all I tried to attach the button to the ragged threads, and +smiled each time that it broke away from them, and smiled again. In the +beginning his Excellency had turned away, but now he threw me another +glance, and I heard him say to Evstafi Ivanovitch: “What on earth is the +matter with the fellow? Look at the figure he cuts! Who to God is he?” +Ah, beloved, only to hear that, “Who to God is he?” Truly I had made +myself a marked man! In reply to his Excellency Evstafi murmured: “He is +no one of any note, though his character is good. Besides, his salary is +sufficient as the scale goes.” “Very well, then; but help him out of his +difficulties somehow,” said his Excellency. “Give him a trifle of salary +in advance.” “It is all forestalled,” was the reply. “He drew it some +time ago. But his record is good. There is nothing against him.” At this +I felt as though I were in Hell fire. I could actually have died! “Well, +well,” said his Excellency, “let him copy out the document a second +time. Dievushkin, come here. You are to make another copy of this paper, +and to make it as quickly as possible.” With that he turned to some +other officials present, issued to them a few orders, and the company +dispersed. No sooner had they done so than his Excellency hurriedly +pulled out a pocket-book, took thence a note for a hundred roubles, and, +with the words, “Take this. It is as much as I can afford. Treat it as +you like,” placed the money in my hand! At this, dearest, I started and +trembled, for I was moved to my very soul. What next I did I hardly +know, except that I know that I seized his Excellency by the hand. But +he only grew very red, and then--no, I am not departing by a hair’s- +breadth from the truth--it is true--that he took this unworthy hand in +his, and shook it! Yes, he took this hand of mine in his, and shook it, +as though I had been his equal, as though I had been a general like +himself! “Go now,” he said. “This is all that I can do for you. Make no +further mistakes, and I will overlook your fault.” + +What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and had +I any children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God for his +Excellency. I should say to my children: “For your father you need not +pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until your lives shall +end.” Yes, dear one--I tell you this in all solemnity, so hearken well +unto my words--that though, during these cruel days of our adversity, +I have nearly died of distress of soul at the sight of you and your +poverty, as well as at the sight of myself and my abasement and +helplessness, I yet care less for the hundred roubles which his +Excellency has given me than for the fact that he was good enough to +take the hand of a wretched drunkard in his own and press it. By that +act he restored me to myself. By that act he revived my courage, he made +life forever sweet to me.... Yes, sure am I that, sinner though I be +before the Almighty, my prayers for the happiness and prosperity of his +Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly Throne!... + +But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and distraught. +My heart is beating as though it would burst my breast, and all my body +seems weak.... I send you forty-five roubles in notes. Another twenty +I shall give to my landlady, and the remaining thirty-five I shall +keep--twenty for new clothes and fifteen for actual living expenses. But +these experiences of the morning have shaken me to the core, and I +must rest awhile. It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in +jerks--deep down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling.... +I will come and see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching with +these various sensations. God sees all things, my darling, my priceless +treasure!--Your steadfast friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 10th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am unspeakably rejoiced at your good +fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. Now, take +a rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money to no advantage. +Live as quietly and as frugally as possible, and from today begin always +to set aside something, lest misfortune again overtake you. Do not, for +God’s sake, worry yourself--Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have +you sent me so much money? I really do not need it--what I had already +would have been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further +funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping before long +to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at least TWENTY roubles +will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but the +remainder shall be returned to you. Pray take care of it, Makar +Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life continue peacefully, and may +you preserve your health and spirits. I would have written to you at +greater length had I not felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left +my bed. I am glad that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you +MUST pay me a visit. + +B. D. + + + + +September 11th. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I implore you not to leave me now that +I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora says, and I +will do anything in the world for you. I will behave myself better, even +if only out of respect for his Excellency, and guard my every action. +Once more we will exchange cheerful letters with one another, and make +mutual confidence of our thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that +we shall know any more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily +and comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books.... Angel of my +heart, a great change has taken place in my fortunes--a change very much +for the better. My landlady has become more accommodating; Theresa has +recovered her senses; even Phaldoni springs to do my bidding. Likewise, +I have made my peace with Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own +accord, the moment that he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt +that he is a good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that +one hears of him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had +any intention of putting me and yourself into a book. This he told me +himself, and then read to me his latest work. As for his calling me +“Lovelace,” he had intended no rudeness or indecency thereby. The term +is merely one of foreign derivation, meaning a clever fellow, or, in +more literary and elegant language, a gentleman with whom one must +reckon. That is all; it was a mere harmless jest, my beloved. Only +ignorance made me lose my temper, and I have expressed to him my +regret.... How beautiful is the weather today, my little Barbara! True, +there was a slight frost in the early morning, as though scattered +through a sieve, but it was nothing, and the breeze soon freshened the +air. I went out to buy some shoes, and obtained a splendid pair. Then, +after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read “The Daily Bee”. This +reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important thing of +all. It happened like this: + +This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti +Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the only +person to whom he has acted kindly and been charitable, for he is known +to the whole world for his goodness of heart. In many quarters his +praises are to be heard; in many quarters he has called forth tears +of gratitude. Among other things, he undertook the care of an orphaned +girl, and married her to an official, the son of a poor widow, and found +this man place in a certain chancellory, and in other ways benefited +him. Well, dearest, I considered it to be my duty to add my mite by +publishing abroad the story of his Excellency’s gracious treatment of +myself. Accordingly, I related the whole occurrence to my interlocutors, +and concealed not a single detail. In fact, I put my pride into my +pocket--though why should I feel ashamed of having been elated by such +an occurrence? “Let it only be noised afield,” said I to myself, and it +will resound greatly to his Excellency’s credit.--So I expressed myself +enthusiastically on the subject and never faltered. On the contrary, +I felt proud to have such a story to tell. I referred to every one +concerned (except to yourself, of course, dearest)--to my landlady, to +Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my +shoes! Some of those standing by laughed--in fact every one present did +so, but probably it was my own figure or the incident of my shoes--more +particularly the latter--that excited merriment, for I am sure it was +not meant ill-naturedly. My hearers may have been young men, or well +off; certainly they cannot have been laughing with evil intent at what +I had said. Anything against his Excellency CANNOT have been in their +thoughts. Eh, Barbara? + +Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by recent +events.... Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? You must not expose +yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my spirits with your fears +for the future. Daily I pray to God on your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray +to Him!... Likewise, have you any woollen stockings to wear, and warm +clothes generally? Mind you, if there is anything you need, you must +not hurt an old man’s feelings by failing to apply to him for what you +require. The bad times are gone now, and the future is looking bright +and fair. + +But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, and +can no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually recover +ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days I never had +a kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, I was always +light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the Nevski Prospect, and meet +nice-looking people, and be happy all day. Yes, it was a glorious, a +glorious time! It was good to be alive, especially in St. Petersburg. +Yet it is but yesterday that I was beseeching God with tears to pardon +me my sins during the late sorrowful period--to pardon me my murmurings +and evil thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in +my prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you alone +have given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget that, +dearest. Today I gave each one of your letters a kiss.... Goodbye, +beloved. I have been told that there is going to be a sale of clothing +somewhere in this neighbourhood. Once more goodbye, goodbye, my +angel--Yours in heart and soul, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 15th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am in terrible distress. I feel sure +that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved friend, is +that Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for Thedora has met +him. He was driving along in a drozhki, but, on meeting Thedora, he +ordered the coachman to stop, sprang out, and inquired of her where she +was living; but this she would not tell him. Next, he said with a +smile that he knew quite well who was living with her (evidently Anna +Thedorovna had told him); whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer, +but then and there, in the street, railed at and abused him--telling him +that he was an immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To +this he replied that a person who did not possess a groat must surely be +rather badly off; to which Thedora retorted that I could always either +live by the labour of my hands or marry--that it was not so much a +question of my losing posts as of my losing my happiness, the ruin of +which had led almost to my death. In reply he observed that, though +I was still quite young, I seemed to have lost my wits, and that my +“virtue appeared to be under a cloud” (I quote his exact words). Both +I and Thedora had thought that he does not know where I live; but, +last night, just as I had left the house to make a few purchases in the +Gostinni Dvor, he appeared at our rooms (evidently he had not wanted to +find me at home), and put many questions to Thedora concerning our way +of living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up with: “Who is +this tchinovnik friend of yours?” At the moment you happened to be +passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and the man +peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to depart--telling +him that I was still ill from grief, and that it would give me great +pain to see him there; to which, after a pause, he replied that he had +come because he had had nothing better to do. Also, he was for giving +Thedora twenty-five roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What +does it all mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his +getting to know about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however, +says that Aksinia, her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her), +is acquainted with a laundress named Nastasia, and that this woman has +a cousin in the position of watchman to a department of which a certain +friend of Anna Thedorovna’s nephew forms one of the staff. Can it be, +therefore, that an intrigue has been hatched through THIS channel? But +Thedora may be entirely mistaken. We hardly know what to think. What if +he should come again? The very thought terrifies me. When Thedora told +me of this last night such terror seized upon me that I almost swooned +away. What can the man be wanting? At all events, I refuse to know such +people. What have they to do with my wretched self? Ah, how I am haunted +with anxiety, for every moment I keep thinking that Bwikov is at hand! +WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has fate in store for me? For Christ’s +sake come and see me, Makar Alexievitch! For Christ’s sake come and see +me soon! + + + + +September 18th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today there took place in this house +a most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence. +First of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has been entirely +absolved of guilt. The decision has been long in coming, but this +morning he went to hear the final resolution read. It was entirely in +his favour. Any culpability which had been imputed to him for negligence +and irregularity was removed by the resolution. Likewise, he was +authorised to recover of the merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he +stands entirely justified, and has had his character cleansed from +all stain. In short, he could not have wished for a more complete +vindication. When he arrived home at three o’clock he was looking as +white as a sheet, and his lips were quivering. Yet there was a smile on +his face as he embraced his wife and children. In a body the rest of us +ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by the act. Bowing to +us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I thought, somehow, that +he seemed to have grown taller and straighter, and that the pus-drops +seemed to have disappeared from his eyelashes. Yet how agitated he was, +poor fellow! He could not rest quietly for two minutes together, but +kept picking up and then dropping whatsoever came to his hand, and +bowing and smiling without intermission, and sitting down and getting +up, and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what about his +honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did talk--yes, and +weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain from tears; although +Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage Gorshkov) that honour mattered +nothing when one had nothing to eat, and that money was the chief thing +in the world, and that for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he +slapped Gorshkov on the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow +seemed hurt at this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw +Rataziaev a curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. ONCE +upon a time he would not have acted thus; but characters differ. For +example, I myself should have hesitated, at such a season of rejoicing, +to seem proud, even though excessive deference and civility at such a +moment might have been construed as a lapse both of moral courage and of +mental vigour. However, this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov +said was: “Yes, money IS a good thing, glory be to God!” In fact, the +whole time that we remained in his room he kept repeating to himself: +“Glory be to God, glory be to God!” His wife ordered a richer and more +delicate meal than usual, and the landlady herself cooked it, for at +heart she is not a bad woman. But until the meal was served Gorshkov +could not remain still. He kept entering everyone’s room in turn +(whether invited thither or not), and, seating himself smilingly upon +a chair, would sometimes say something, and sometimes not utter a word, +but get up and go out again. In the naval officer’s room he even took a +pack of playing-cards into his hand, and was thereupon invited to make +a fourth in a game; but after losing a few times, as well as making +several blunders in his play, he abandoned the pursuit. “No,” said he, +“that is the sort of man that I am--that is all that I am good for,” and +departed. Next, encountering myself in the corridor, he took my hands in +his, and gazed into my face with a rather curious air. Then he pressed +my hands again, and moved away still smiling, smiling, but in an odd, +weary sort of manner, much as a corpse might smile. Meanwhile his wife +was weeping for joy, and everything in their room was decked in holiday +guise. Presently dinner was served, and after they had dined Gorshkov +said to his wife: “See now, dearest, I am going to rest a little while;” + and with that went to bed. Presently he called his little daughter to +his side, and, laying his hand upon the child’s head, lay a long while +looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and asked her: “What +of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?” whereupon his wife crossed herself, +and replied: “Why, our Petinka is dead!” “Yes, yes, I know--of course,” + said her husband. “Petinka is now in the Kingdom of Heaven.” This showed +his wife that her husband was not quite in his right senses--that the +recent occurrence had upset him; so she said: “My dearest, you must +sleep awhile.” “I will do so,” he replied, “--at once--I am rather--” + And he turned over, and lay silent for a time. Then again he turned +round and tried to say something, but his wife could not hear what it +was. “What do you say?” she inquired, but he made no reply. Then again +she waited a few moments until she thought to herself, “He has gone to +sleep,” and departed to spend an hour with the landlady. At the end +of that hour she returned--only to find that her husband had not yet +awoken, but was still lying motionless. “He is sleeping very soundly,” + she reflected as she sat down and began to work at something or other. +Since then she has told us that when half an hour or so had elapsed she +fell into a reverie. What she was thinking of she cannot remember, save +that she had forgotten altogether about her husband. Then she awoke with +a curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first thing that struck +her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at the bed, +she perceived her husband to be lying in the same position as before. +Thereupon she approached him, turned the coverlet back, and saw that he +was stiff and cold--that he had died suddenly, as though smitten with a +stroke. But of what precisely he died God only knows. The affair has so +terribly impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect my +thoughts. It would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so +simply--and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a +fate, what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and +panic-stricken, while his little daughter has run away somewhere to hide +herself. In their room, however, all is bustle and confusion, for the +doctors are about to make an autopsy on the corpse. But I cannot +tell you things for certain; I only know that I am most grieved, most +grieved. How sad to think that one never knows what even a day, +what even an hour, may bring forth! One seems to die to so little +purpose!...--Your own + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 19th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to let you know that Rataziaev +has found me some work to do for a certain writer--the latter having +submitted to him a large manuscript. Glory be to God, for this means a +large amount of work to do. Yet, though the copy is wanted in haste, the +original is so carelessly written that I hardly know how to set about my +task. Indeed, certain parts of the manuscript are almost undecipherable. +I have agreed to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. You see +therefore (and this is my true reason for writing to you), that we shall +soon be receiving money from an extraneous source. Goodbye now, as I +must begin upon my labours.--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 23rd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have not written to you these three +days past for the reason that I have been so worried and alarmed. + +Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me. At the time I was alone, for +Thedora had gone out somewhere. As soon as I opened the door the sight +of him so terrified me that I stood rooted to the spot, and could feel +myself turning pale. Entering with his usual loud laugh, he took a +chair, and sat down. For a long while I could not collect my thoughts; +I just sat where I was, and went on with my work. Soon his smile faded, +for my appearance seemed somehow to have struck him. You see, of late I +have grown thin, and my eyes and cheeks have fallen in, and my face has +become as white as a sheet; so that anyone who knew me a year ago would +scarcely recognise me now. After a prolonged inspection, Bwikov seemed +to recover his spirits, for he said something to which I duly replied. +Then again he laughed. Thus he sat for a whole hour--talking to me the +while, and asking me questions about one thing and another. At length, +just before he rose to depart, he took me by the hand, and said (to +quote his exact words): “Between ourselves, Barbara Alexievna, that +kinswoman of yours and my good friend and acquaintance--I refer to +Anna Thedorovna--is a very bad woman,” (he also added a grosser term +of opprobrium). “First of all she led your cousin astray, and then she +ruined yourself. I also have behaved like a villain, but such is the way +of the world.” Again he laughed. Next, having remarked that, though +not a master of eloquence, he had always considered that obligations of +gentility obliged him to have with me a clear and outspoken explanation, +he went on to say that he sought my hand in marriage; that he looked +upon it as a duty to restore to me my honour; that he could offer me +riches; that, after marriage, he would take me to his country seat in +the Steppes, where we would hunt hares; that he intended never to visit +St. Petersburg again, since everything there was horrible, and he had to +entertain a worthless nephew whom he had sworn to disinherit in favour +of a legal heir; and, finally, that it was to obtain such a legal heir +that he was seeking my hand in marriage. Lastly, he remarked that +I seemed to be living in very poor circumstances (which was not +surprising, said he, in view of the kennel that I inhabited); that I +should die if I remained a month longer in that den; that all lodgings +in St. Petersburg were detestable; and that he would be glad to know if +I was in want of anything. + +So thunderstruck was I with the proposal that I could only burst into +tears. These tears he interpreted as a sign of gratitude, for he told +me that he had always felt assured of my good sense, cleverness, and +sensibility, but that hitherto he had hesitated to take this step until +he should have learned precisely how I was getting on. Next he asked me +some questions about YOU; saying that he had heard of you as a man of +good principle, and that since he was unwilling to remain your debtor, +would a sum of five hundred roubles repay you for all you had done for +me? To this I replied that your services to myself had been such as +could never be requited with money; whereupon, he exclaimed that I was +talking rubbish and nonsense; that evidently I was still young enough to +read poetry; that romances of this kind were the undoing of young girls, +that books only corrupted morality, and that, for his part, he could not +abide them. “You ought to live as long as I have done,” he added, “and +THEN you will see what men can be.” With that he requested me to give +his proposal my favourable consideration--saying that he would not like +me to take such an important step unguardedly, since want of thought and +impetuosity often spelt ruin to youthful inexperience, but that he hoped +to receive an answer in the affirmative. “Otherwise,” said he, “I shall +have no choice but to marry a certain merchant’s daughter in Moscow, in +order that I may keep my vow to deprive my nephew of the inheritance.”-- +Then he pressed five hundred roubles into my hand--to buy myself some +bonbons, as he phrased it--and wound up by saying that in the country I +should grow as fat as a doughnut or a cheese rolled in butter; that at +the present moment he was extremely busy; and that, deeply engaged in +business though he had been all day, he had snatched the present +opportunity of paying me a visit. At length he departed. +For a long time I sat plunged in reflection. Great though my distress +of mind was, I soon arrived at a decision.... My friend, I am going to +marry this man; I have no choice but to accept his proposal. If anyone +could save me from this squalor, and restore to me my good name, and +avert from me future poverty and want and misfortune, he is the man to +do it. What else have I to look for from the future? What more am I to +ask of fate? Thedora declares that one need NEVER lose one’s happiness; +but what, I ask HER, can be called happiness under such circumstances as +mine? At all events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing +else to be done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot +go on working forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am worn to +a shadow with grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly by nature, I +should merely be a burden upon other folks. Of course this marriage will +not bring me paradise, but what else does there remain, my friend--what +else does there remain? What other choice is left? + +I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted to +think the matter over alone. However, the decision which you have just +read is unalterable, and I am about to announce it to Bwikov himself, +who in any case has pressed me for a speedy reply, owing to the fact (so +he says) that his business will not wait nor allow him to remain here +longer, and that therefore, no trifle must be allowed to stand in its +way. God alone knows whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His +holy, His inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be +kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be +able to return that respect. What more could be looked for from such a +marriage? + +I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that you will +understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to divert me from my +intention, for all your efforts will be in vain. Think for a moment; +weigh in your heart for a moment all that has led me to take this step. +At first my anguish was extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I +know not. What must be must be, and as God may send.... + +Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished. +Otherwise I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at the +door!... + + + + +September 23rd. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to reply to you--I hasten to +express to you my extreme astonishment.... In passing, I may mention +that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov.... Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly, +and you have no choice but to accept him. All things are in God’s hands. +This is so, and must always be so; and the purposes of the Divine +Creator are at once good and inscrutable, as also is Fate, which is one +with Him.... Thedora will share your happiness--for, of course, you will +be happy, and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! But +why should the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course--Monsieur Bwikov’s +business affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see to can afford to +disregard such things. I got a glimpse of Monsieur Bwikov as he was +leaving your door. He is a fine-looking man--a very fine-looking man; +though that is not the point that I should most have noticed had I been +quite myself at the time.... + +In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I keep +wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you have said. +To think that just when twenty pages of my copying are completed THIS +has happened!... I suppose you will be able to make many purchases +now--to buy shoes and dresses and all sorts of things? Do you remember +the shops in Gorokhovaia Street of which I used to speak?... +But no. You ought not to go out at present--you simply ought not to, and +shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many things, and to, +keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is bad. Rain is descending +in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking kind of rain that--that you might +catch cold from it, my darling, and the chill might go to your heart. +Why should your fear of this man lead you to take such risks when all +the time I am here to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great +happiness to be awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman, +and evidently desires to ruin you. Shall you be at the all-night Mass +this evening, dearest? I should like to come and see you there. Yes, +Bwikov spoke but the truth when he said that you are a woman of virtue, +wit, and good feeling. Yet I think he would do far better to marry the +merchant’s daughter. What think YOU about it? Yes, ‘twould be far better +for him. As soon as it grows dark tonight I mean to come and sit with +you for an hour. Tonight twilight will close in early, so I shall soon +be with you. Yes, come what may, I mean to see you for an hour. At +present, I suppose, you are expecting Bwikov, but I will come as soon as +he has gone. So stay at home until I have arrived, dearest. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 27th. + +DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Bwikov has just informed me that I must have +at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and look for +sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since time presses. +Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the fuss which these +fripperies are entailing, seeing that there remain but five days before +the wedding, and we are to depart on the following day. He keeps rushing +about and declaring that no time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am +terribly worried, and scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is +so much to do, and, perhaps, so much that were better left undone! +Moreover, I have no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be +purchased, since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look +like a cook, but, on the contrary, she must “put the noses of the great +ladies out of joint.” That is his expression. I wish, therefore, that +you would go to Madame Chiffon’s, in Gorokhovaia Street, and ask her, in +the first place, to send me some sempstresses, and, in the second place, +to give herself the trouble of coming in person, as I am too ill to +go out. Our new flat is very cold, and still in great disorder. Also, +Bwikov has an aunt who is at her last gasp through old age, and may die +before our departure. He himself, however, declares this to be nothing, +and says that she will soon recover. He is not yet living with me, and +I have to go running hither and thither to find him. Only Thedora +is acting as my servant, together with Bwikov’s valet, who oversees +everything, but has been absent for the past three days. +Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. Yesterday +he even had some trouble with the police because of his thrashing the +steward of these buildings... I have no one to send with this letter so +I am going to post it... Ah! I had almost forgotten the most important +point--which is that I should like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon +that I wish the blond lace to be changed in conformity with yesterday’s +patterns, if she will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment. +Also say that I have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to +be tamboured with crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used with +monograms on the various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not smooth +work. Do not forget that it is to be tambour. Another thing I had almost +forgotten, which is that the lappets of the fur cloak must be raised, +and the collar bound with lace. Please tell her these things, Makar +Alexievitch.--Your friend, + +B. D. + +P.S.--I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is the +third morning that you will have spent in running about for my sake. But +what else am I to do? The whole place is in disorder, and I myself +am ill. Do not be vexed with me, Makar Alexievitch. I am feeling so +depressed! What is going to become of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old +Makar Alexievitch? I dread to look forward into the future. Somehow I +feel apprehensive; I am living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God’s +sake, forget none of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make +a mistake! Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth. + + + + +September 27th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have carefully fulfilled your +commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had thought of +using tambour work as being more suitable (though I did not quite take +in all she said). Also, she has informed me that, since you have given +certain directions in writing, she has followed them (though again I do +not clearly remember all that she said--I only remember that she said +a very great deal, for she is a most tiresome old woman). These +observations she will soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I +feel absolutely exhausted, and have not been to the office today... +Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I would +visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare not look +forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven o’clock, you will have +learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have arrived in person to see you. +Hope on, and everything will order itself for the best. Of course, I +am referring only to these accursed gewgaws, to these frills and +fripperies! Ah me, ah me, how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes, +how glad I shall be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your +abode. Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that--Well, +things are as they are. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 28th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God’s sake go to the jeweller’s, +and tell him that, after all, he need not make the pearl and emerald +earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will cost him too much, that +they will burn a veritable hole in his pocket. In fact, he has lost his +temper again, and declares that he is being robbed. Yesterday he added +that, had he but known, but foreseen, these expenses, he would never +have married. Also, he says that, as things are, he intends only to have +a plain wedding, and then to depart. “You must not look for any dancing +or festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are still in +the air.” Such were his words. God knows I do not want such things, but +none the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made him no answer on the +subject, for he is a man all too easily irritated. What, what is going +to become of me? + +B. D. + + + + +September 28th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--All is well as regards the jeweller. +Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have fallen ill, and +cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things need to be done, I have +gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! Also I have to tell you +that, to complete my misfortunes, his Excellency has been pleased to +become stricter. Today he railed at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until +the poor fellow was quite put about. That is the sum of my news. +No--there is something else concerning which I should like to write +to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a simple, +dull fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head--Your +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 29th. + +MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who informed +me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the following day to go +away--for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a post-chaise.... + +Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. Also +I have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia Street. It is +correct, but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so out of humour with +you? Nay, but you must be of good cheer, my darling. I am so, and shall +always be so, so long as you are happy. I should have come to the church +tomorrow, but, alas, shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my +loins. Also, I would have written an account of the ceremony, but that +there will be no one to report to me the details.... + +Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You have +acted kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed God will +bless you. Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does virtue ever fail to +win the crown of divine justice, be it early or be it late. Much else +should I have liked to write to you. Every hour, every minute I could +occupy in writing. Indeed I could write to you forever! Only your book, +“The Stories of Bielkin”, is left to me. Do not deprive me of it, I pray +you, but suffer me to keep it. It is not so much because I wish to read +the book for its own sake, as because winter is coming on, when the +evenings will be long and dreary, and one will want to read at least +SOMETHING. + +Do you know, I am going to move from my present quarters into your old +ones, which I intend to rent from Thedora; for I could never part with +that good old woman. Moreover, she is such a splendid worker. +Yesterday I inspected your empty room in detail, and inspected your +embroidery-frame, with the work still hanging on it. It had been left +untouched in its corner. Next, I inspected the work itself, of which +there still remained a few remnants, and saw that you had used one of my +letters for a spool upon which to wind your thread. Also, on the table +I found a scrap of paper which had written on it, “My dearest Makar +Alexievitch I hasten to--” that was all. Evidently, someone had +interrupted you at an interesting point. Lastly, behind a screen there +was your little bed.... Oh darling of darlings!!!... Well, goodbye now, +goodbye now, but for God’s sake send me something in answer to this +letter! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 30th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--All is over! The die is cast! What my lot +may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the will of God. +Tomorrow, then, we depart. For the last time, I take my leave of you, my +friend beyond price, my benefactor, my dear one! Do not grieve for me, +but try to live happily. Think of me sometimes, and may the blessing +of Almighty God light upon you! For myself, I shall often have you in +remembrance, and recall you in my prayers. Thus our time together +has come to an end. Little comfort in my new life shall I derive +from memories of the past. The more, therefore, shall I cherish the +recollection of you, and the dearer will you ever be to my heart. Here, +you have been my only friend; here, you alone have loved me. Yes, I have +seen all, I have known all--I have throughout known how well you love +me. A single smile of mine, a single stroke from my pen, has been able +to make you happy.... But now you must forget me.... How lonely you will +be! Why should you stay here at all, kind, inestimable, but solitary, +friend of mine? To your care I entrust the book, the embroidery frame, +and the letter upon which I had begun. When you look upon the few words +which the letter contains you will be able mentally to read in thought +all that you would have liked further to hear or receive from me--all +that I would so gladly have written, but can never now write. Think +sometimes of your poor little Barbara who loved you so well. All your +letters I have left behind me in the top drawer of Thedora’s chest of +drawers... You write that you are ill, but Monsieur Bwikov will not let +me leave the house today; so that I can only write to you. Also, I will +write again before long. That is a promise. Yet God only knows when I +shall be able to do so.... Now we must bid one another forever farewell, +my friend, my beloved, my own! Yes, it must be forever! Ah, how at this +moment I could embrace you! Goodbye, dear friend--goodbye, goodbye! May +you ever rest well and happy! To the end I shall keep you in my prayers. +How my heart is aching under its load of sorrow!... Monsieur Bwikov is +just calling for me....--Your ever loving + +B. + +P.S.--My heart is full! It is full to bursting of tears! Sorrow has me +in its grip, and is tearing me to pieces. Goodbye. My God, what grief! +Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara! + + + +BELOVED BARBARA--MY JEWEL, MY PRICELESS ONE,--You are now almost en +route, you are now just about to depart! Would that they had torn my +heart out of my breast rather than have taken you away from me! How +could you allow it? You weep, yet you go! And only this moment I have +received from you a letter stained with your tears! It must be that +you are departing unwillingly; it must be that you are being abducted +against your will; it must be that you are sorry for me; it must be +that--that you LOVE me!... Yet how will it fare with you now? Your heart +will soon have become chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon +have sucked away its life; grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, +you will die where you be, and be laid to rest in the cold, moist earth +where there is no one to bewail you. Monsieur Bwikov will only be +hunting hares!... Ah, my darling, my darling! WHY did you come to this +decision? How could you bring yourself to take such a step? What have +you done, have you done, have you done? Soon they will be carrying you +away to the tomb; soon your beauty will have become defiled, my angel. +Ah, dearest one, you are as weak as a feather. And where have I been all +this time? What have I been thinking of? I have treated you merely as a +forward child whose head was aching. Fool that I was, I neither saw nor +understood. I have behaved as though, right or wrong, the matter was in +no way my concern. Yes, I have been running about after fripperies!... +Ah, but I WILL leave my bed. Tomorrow I WILL rise sound and well, and be +once more myself.... Dearest, I could throw myself under the wheels of a +passing vehicle rather than that you should go like this. By what right +is it being done?... I will go with you; I will run behind your carriage +if you will not take me--yes, I will run, and run so long as the power +is in me, and until my breath shall have failed. Do you know whither you +are going? Perhaps you will not know, and will have to ask me? Before +you there lie the Steppes, my darling--only the Steppes, the naked +Steppes, the Steppes that are as bare as the palm of my hand. THERE +there live only heartless old women and rude peasants and drunkards. +THERE the trees have already shed their leaves. THERE there abide but +rain and cold. Why should you go thither? True, Monsieur Bwikov will +have his diversions in that country--he will be able to hunt the hare; +but what of yourself? Do you wish to become a mere estate lady? Nay; +look at yourself, my seraph of heaven. Are you in any way fitted for +such a role? How could you play it? To whom should I write letters? To +whom should I send these missives? Whom should I call “my darling”? To +whom should I apply that name of endearment? Where, too, could I find +you? When you are gone, Barbara, I shall die--for certain I shall die, +for my heart cannot bear this misery. I love you as I love the light of +God; I love you as my own daughter; to you I have devoted my love in its +entirety; only for you have I lived at all; only because you were near +me have I worked and copied manuscripts and committed my views to paper +under the guise of friendly letters. Perhaps you did not know all this, +but it has been so. How, then, my beloved, could you bring yourself to +leave me? Nay, you MUST not go--it is impossible, it is sheerly, it is +utterly, impossible. The rain will fall upon you, and you are weak, and +will catch cold. The floods will stop your carriage. No sooner will it +have passed the city barriers than it will break down, purposely break +down. Here, in St. Petersburg, they are bad builders of carriages. Yes, +I know well these carriage-builders. They are jerry-builders who can +fashion a toy, but nothing that is durable. Yes, I swear they can make +nothing that is durable.... All that I can do is to go upon my knees +before Monsieur Bwikov, and to tell him all, to tell him all. Do you +also tell him all, dearest, and reason with him. Tell him that you MUST +remain here, and must not go. Ah, why did he not marry that merchant’s +daughter in Moscow? Let him go and marry her now. She would suit him far +better and for reasons which I well know. Then I could keep you. For +what is he to you, this Monsieur Bwikov? Why has he suddenly become so +dear to your heart? Is it because he can buy you gewgaws? What are THEY? +What use are THEY? They are so much rubbish. One should consider human +life rather than mere finery. Nevertheless, as soon as I have received +my next instalment of salary I mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to +buy it at a shop with which I am acquainted. Only, you must wait until +my next installment is due, my angel of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To +think that you are going away into the Steppes with Monsieur Bwikov-- +that you are going away never to return!... Nay, nay, but you SHALL +write to me. You SHALL write me a letter as soon as you have started, +even if it be your last letter of all, my dearest. Yet will it be your +last letter? How has it come about so suddenly, so irrevocably, that +this letter should be your last? Nay, nay; I will write, and you shall +write--yes, NOW, when at length I am beginning to improve my style. +Style? I do not know what I am writing. I never do know what I am +writing. I could not possibly know, for I never read over what I have +written, nor correct its orthography. At the present moment, I am +writing merely for the sake of writing, and to put as much as possible +into this last letter of mine.... + +Ah, dearest, my pet, my own darling!... + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + +***** This file should be named 2302-0.txt or 2302-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2302/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/2302-0.zip b/2302-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f676231 --- /dev/null +++ b/2302-0.zip diff --git a/2302-h.zip b/2302-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c6fa55 --- /dev/null +++ b/2302-h.zip diff --git a/2302-h/2302-h.htm b/2302-h/2302-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23f7a81 --- /dev/null +++ b/2302-h/2302-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5794 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poor Folk + +Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translator: C. J. Hogarth + +Release Date: August, 2000 [EBook #2302] +Last Updated: October 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + POOR FOLK + </h1> + <h2> + By Fyodor Dostoyevsky + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by C. J. Hogarth + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> April 9th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> April 12th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> April 25th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> May 20th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> June 1st </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> June 11th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> June 12th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> June 20th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> June 21st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> June 22nd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> June 25th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> June 26th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> June 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> June 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> July 1st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> July 7th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> July 8th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> July 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> July 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> July 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> July 29th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> August 1st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> August 2nd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> August 3rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> August 4th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> August 4th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> August 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> August 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> August 11th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> August 13th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> August 14th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> August 19th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> August 21st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> September 3rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> September 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> September 9th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> September 10th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> September 11th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> September 15th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> September 18th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> September 19th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> September 23rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> September 23rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> September 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> September 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> September 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> September 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> September 29th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> September 30th. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—How happy I was last night—how + immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your life + you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight o’clock I + awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like to sleep + for a short hour after my work is done)—I awoke, I say, and, + lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then + suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes—and felt my + very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had + understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner + of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the + cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your + dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me + from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of me. + Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face clearly! + For there was a time when you and I could see one another without any + difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved + one! At this very moment everything is standing awry to my eyes, for a man + needs only to work late overnight in his writing of something or other + for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, and the tears to be gushing from + them in a way that makes him ashamed to be seen before strangers. However, + I was able to picture to myself your beaming smile, my angel—your + kind, bright smile; and in my heart there lurked just such a feeling as on + the occasion when I first kissed you, my little Barbara. Do you remember + that, my darling? Yet somehow you seemed to be threatening me with your + tiny finger. Was it so, little wanton? You must write and tell me about it + in your next letter. + </p> + <p> + But what think you of the plan of the curtain, Barbara? It is a charming + one, is it not? No matter whether I be at work, or about to retire to + rest, or just awaking from sleep, it enables me to know that you are + thinking of me, and remembering me—that you are both well and happy. + Then when you lower the curtain, it means that it is time that I, Makar + Alexievitch, should go to bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it + means that you are saying to me, “Good morning,” and asking me how I am, + and whether I have slept well. “As for myself,” adds the curtain, “I am + altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!” Yes, my heart’s + delight, you see how easy a plan it was to devise, and how much writing it + will save us! It is a clever plan, is it not? And it was my own invention, + too! Am I not cunning in such matters, Barbara Alexievna? + </p> + <p> + Well, next let me tell you, dearest, that last night I slept better and + more soundly than I had ever hoped to do, and that I am the more delighted + at the fact in that, as you know, I had just settled into a new lodging—a + circumstance only too apt to keep one from sleeping! This morning, too, I + arose (joyous and full of love) at cockcrow. How good seemed everything at + that hour, my darling! When I opened my window I could see the sun + shining, and hear the birds singing, and smell the air laden with scents + of spring. In short, all nature was awaking to life again. Everything was + in consonance with my mood; everything seemed fair and spring-like. + Moreover, I had a fancy that I should fare well today. But my whole + thoughts were bent upon you. “Surely,” thought I, “we mortals who dwell in + pain and sorrow might with reason envy the birds of heaven which know not + either!” And my other thoughts were similar to these. In short, I gave + myself up to fantastic comparisons. A little book which I have says the + same kind of thing in a variety of ways. For instance, it says that one + may have many, many fancies, my Barbara—that as soon as the spring + comes on, one’s thoughts become uniformly pleasant and sportive and witty, + for the reason that, at that season, the mind inclines readily to + tenderness, and the world takes on a more roseate hue. From that little + book of mine I have culled the following passage, and written it down for + you to see. In particular does the author express a longing similar to my + own, where he writes: + </p> + <p> + “Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?” + </p> + <p> + And he has written much else, God bless him! + </p> + <p> + But tell me, my love—where did you go for your walk this morning? + Even before I had started for the office you had taken flight from your + room, and passed through the courtyard—yes, looking as vernal-like + as a bird in spring. What rapture it gave me to see you! Ah, little + Barbara, little Barbara, you must never give way to grief, for tears are + of no avail, nor sorrow. I know this well—I know it of my own + experience. So do you rest quietly until you have regained your health a + little. But how is our good Thedora? What a kind heart she has! You write + that she is now living with you, and that you are satisfied with what she + does. True, you say that she is inclined to grumble, but do not mind that, + Barbara. God bless her, for she is an excellent soul! + </p> + <p> + But what sort of an abode have I lighted upon, Barbara Alexievna? What + sort of a tenement, do you think, is this? Formerly, as you know, I used + to live in absolute stillness—so much so that if a fly took wing it + could plainly be heard buzzing. Here, however, all is turmoil and shouting + and clatter. The PLAN of the tenement you know already. Imagine a long + corridor, quite dark, and by no means clean. To the right a dead wall, and + to the left a row of doors stretching as far as the line of rooms extends. + These rooms are tenanted by different people—by one, by two, or by + three lodgers as the case may be, but in this arrangement there is no sort + of system, and the place is a perfect Noah’s Ark. Most of the lodgers are + respectable, educated, and even bookish people. In particular they include + a tchinovnik (one of the literary staff in some government department), + who is so well-read that he can expound Homer or any other author—in + fact, ANYTHING, such a man of talent is he! Also, there are a couple of + officers (for ever playing cards), a midshipman, and an English tutor. + But, to amuse you, dearest, let me describe these people more + categorically in my next letter, and tell you in detail about their lives. + As for our landlady, she is a dirty little old woman who always walks + about in a dressing-gown and slippers, and never ceases to shout at + Theresa. I myself live in the kitchen—or, rather, in a small room + which forms part of the kitchen. The latter is a very large, bright, + clean, cheerful apartment with three windows in it, and a partition-wall + which, running outwards from the front wall, makes a sort of little den, a + sort of extra room, for myself. Everything in this den is comfortable and + convenient, and I have, as I say, a window to myself. So much for a + description of my dwelling-place. Do not think, dearest, that in all this + there is any hidden intention. The fact that I live in the kitchen merely + means that I live behind the partition wall in that apartment—that I + live quite alone, and spend my time in a quiet fashion compounded of + trifles. For furniture I have provided myself with a bed, a table, a chest + of drawers, and two small chairs. Also, I have suspended an ikon. True, + better rooms MAY exist in the world than this—much better rooms; yet + COMFORT is the chief thing. In fact, I have made all my arrangements for + comfort’s sake alone; so do not for a moment imagine that I had any other + end in view. And since your window happens to be just opposite to mine, + and since the courtyard between us is narrow and I can see you as you + pass,—why, the result is that this miserable wretch will be able to + live at once more happily and with less outlay. The dearest room in this + house costs, with board, thirty-five roubles—more than my purse + could well afford; whereas MY room costs only twenty-four, though formerly + I used to pay thirty, and so had to deny myself many things (I could drink + tea but seldom, and never could indulge in tea and sugar as I do now). + But, somehow, I do not like having to go without tea, for everyone else + here is respectable, and the fact makes me ashamed. After all, one drinks + tea largely to please one’s fellow men, Barbara, and to give oneself tone + and an air of gentility (though, of myself, I care little about such + things, for I am not a man of the finicking sort). Yet think you that, + when all things needful—boots and the rest—have been paid for, + much will remain? Yet I ought not to grumble at my salary,—I am + quite satisfied with it; it is sufficient. It has sufficed me now for some + years, and, in addition, I receive certain gratuities. + </p> + <p> + Well good-bye, my darling. I have bought you two little pots of geraniums—quite + cheap little pots, too—as a present. Perhaps you would also like + some mignonette? Mignonette it shall be if only you will write to inform + me of everything in detail. Also, do not misunderstand the fact that I + have taken this room, my dearest. Convenience and nothing else, has made + me do so. The snugness of the place has caught my fancy. Also, I shall be + able to save money here, and to hoard it against the future. Already I + have saved a little money as a beginning. Nor must you despise me because + I am such an insignificant old fellow that a fly could break me with its + wing. True, I am not a swashbuckler; but perhaps there may also abide in + me the spirit which should pertain to every man who is at once resigned + and sure of himself. Good-bye, then, again, my angel. I have now covered + close upon a whole two sheets of notepaper, though I ought long ago to + have been starting for the office. I kiss your hands, and remain ever your + devoted slave, your faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—One thing I beg of you above all things—and that is, that + you will answer this letter as FULLY as possible. With the letter I send + you a packet of bonbons. Eat them for your health’s sake, nor, for the + love of God, feel any uneasiness about me. Once more, dearest one, + good-bye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Do you know, I must quarrel with you. + Yes, good Makar Alexievitch, I really cannot accept your presents, for I + know what they must have cost you—I know to what privations and + self-denial they must have led. How many times have I not told you that I + stand in need of NOTHING, of absolutely NOTHING, as well as that I shall + never be in a position to recompense you for all the kindly acts with + which you have loaded me? Why, for instance, have you sent me geraniums? A + little sprig of balsam would not have mattered so much—but + geraniums! Only have I to let fall an unguarded word—for example, + about geraniums—and at once you buy me some! How much they must have + cost you! Yet what a charm there is in them, with their flaming petals! + Wherever did you get these beautiful plants? I have set them in my window + as the most conspicuous place possible, while on the floor I have placed a + bench for my other flowers to stand on (since you are good enough to + enrich me with such presents). Unfortunately, Thedora, who, with her + sweeping and polishing, makes a perfect sanctuary of my room, is not + over-pleased at the arrangement. But why have you sent me also bonbons? + Your letter tells me that something special is afoot with you, for I find + in it so much about paradise and spring and sweet odours and the songs of + birds. Surely, thought I to myself when I received it, this is as good as + poetry! Indeed, verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, Makar + Alexievitch. And what tender feelings I can read in it—what + roseate-coloured fancies! To the curtain, however, I had never given a + thought. The fact is that when I moved the flower-pots, it LOOPED ITSELF + up. There now! + </p> + <p> + Ah, Makar Alexievitch, you neither speak of nor give any account of what + you have spent upon me. You hope thereby to deceive me, to make it seem as + though the cost always falls upon you alone, and that there is nothing to + conceal. Yet I KNOW that for my sake you deny yourself necessaries. For + instance, what has made you go and take the room which you have done, + where you will be worried and disturbed, and where you have neither + elbow-space nor comfort—you who love solitude, and never like to + have any one near you? To judge from your salary, I should think that you + might well live in greater ease than that. Also, Thedora tells me that + your circumstances used to be much more affluent than they are at present. + Do you wish, then, to persuade me that your whole existence has been + passed in loneliness and want and gloom, with never a cheering word to + help you, nor a seat in a friend’s chimney-corner? Ah, kind comrade, how + my heart aches for you! But do not overtask your health, Makar + Alexievitch. For instance, you say that your eyes are over-weak for you to + go on writing in your office by candle-light. Then why do so? I am sure + that your official superiors do not need to be convinced of your + diligence! + </p> + <p> + Once more I implore you not to waste so much money upon me. I know how + much you love me, but I also know that you are not rich.... This morning I + too rose in good spirits. Thedora had long been at work; and it was time + that I too should bestir myself. Indeed I was yearning to do so, so I went + out for some silk, and then sat down to my labours. All the morning I felt + light-hearted and cheerful. Yet now my thoughts are once more dark and sad—once + more my heart is ready to sink. + </p> + <p> + Ah, what is going to become of me? What will be my fate? To have to be so + uncertain as to the future, to have to be unable to foretell what is going + to happen, distresses me deeply. Even to look back at the past is + horrible, for it contains sorrow that breaks my very heart at the thought + of it. Yes, a whole century in tears could I spend because of the wicked + people who have wrecked my life! + </p> + <p> + But dusk is coming on, and I must set to work again. Much else should I + have liked to write to you, but time is lacking, and I must hasten. Of + course, to write this letter is a pleasure enough, and could never be + wearisome; but why do you not come to see me in person? Why do you not, + Makar Alexievitch? You live so close to me, and at least SOME of your time + is your own. I pray you, come. I have just seen Theresa. She was looking + so ill, and I felt so sorry for her, that I gave her twenty kopecks. I am + almost falling asleep. Write to me in fullest detail, both concerning your + mode of life, and concerning the people who live with you, and concerning + how you fare with them. I should so like to know! Yes, you must write + again. Tonight I have purposely looped the curtain up. Go to bed early, + for, last night, I saw your candle burning until nearly midnight. Goodbye! + I am now feeling sad and weary. Ah that I should have to spend such days + as this one has been. Again good-bye.—Your friend, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—To think that a day like this should + have fallen to my miserable lot! Surely you are making fun of an old + man?... However, it was my own fault—my own fault entirely. One + ought not to grow old holding a lock of Cupid’s hair in one’s hand. + Naturally one is misunderstood.... Yet man is sometimes a very strange + being. By all the Saints, he will talk of doing things, yet leave them + undone, and remain looking the kind of fool from whom may the Lord + preserve us!... Nay, I am not angry, my beloved; I am only vexed to think + that I should have written to you in such stupid, flowery phraseology. + Today I went hopping and skipping to the office, for my heart was under + your influence, and my soul was keeping holiday, as it were. Yes, + everything seemed to be going well with me. Then I betook myself to my + work. But with what result? I gazed around at the old familiar objects, at + the old familiar grey and gloomy objects. They looked just the same as + before. Yet WERE those the same inkstains, the same tables and chairs, + that I had hitherto known? Yes, they WERE the same, exactly the same; so + why should I have gone off riding on Pegasus’ back? Whence had that mood + arisen? It had arisen from the fact that a certain sun had beamed upon me, + and turned the sky to blue. But why so? Why is it, sometimes, that sweet + odours seem to be blowing through a courtyard where nothing of the sort + can be? They must be born of my foolish fancy, for a man may stray so far + into sentiment as to forget his immediate surroundings, and to give way to + the superfluity of fond ardour with which his heart is charged. On the + other hand, as I walked home from the office at nightfall my feet seemed + to lag, and my head to be aching. Also, a cold wind seemed to be blowing + down my back (enraptured with the spring, I had gone out clad only in a + thin overcoat). Yet you have misunderstood my sentiments, dearest. They + are altogether different to what you suppose. It is a purely paternal + feeling that I have for you. I stand towards you in the position of a + relative who is bound to watch over your lonely orphanhood. This I say in + all sincerity, and with a single purpose, as any kinsman might do. For, + after all, I AM a distant kinsman of yours—the seventh drop of water + in the pudding, as the proverb has it—yet still a kinsman, and at + the present time your nearest relative and protector, seeing that where + you had the right to look for help and protection, you found only + treachery and insult. As for poetry, I may say that I consider it + unbecoming for a man of my years to devote his faculties to the making of + verses. Poetry is rubbish. Even boys at school ought to be whipped for + writing it. + </p> + <p> + Why do you write thus about “comfort” and “peace” and the rest? I am not a + fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I been so + comfortable as now. Why, then, should I complain in my old age? I have + enough to eat, I am well dressed and booted. Also, I have my diversions. + You see, I am not of noble blood. My father himself was not a gentleman; + he and his family had to live even more plainly than I do. Nor am I a + milksop. Nevertheless, to speak frankly, I do not like my present abode so + much as I used to like my old one. Somehow the latter seemed more cosy, + dearest. Of course, this room is a good one enough; in fact, in SOME + respects it is the more cheerful and interesting of the two. I have + nothing to say against it—no. Yet I miss the room that used to be so + familiar to me. Old lodgers like myself soon grow as attached to our + chattels as to a kinsman. My old room was such a snug little place! True, + its walls resembled those of any other room—I am not speaking of + that; the point is that the recollection of them seems to haunt my mind + with sadness. Curious that recollections should be so mournful! Even what + in that room used to vex me and inconvenience me now looms in a purified + light, and figures in my imagination as a thing to be desired. We used to + live there so quietly—I and an old landlady who is now dead. How my + heart aches to remember her, for she was a good woman, and never + overcharged for her rooms. Her whole time was spent in making patchwork + quilts with knitting-needles that were an arshin [An ell.] long. + Oftentimes we shared the same candle and board. Also she had a + granddaughter, Masha—a girl who was then a mere baby, but must now + be a girl of thirteen. This little piece of mischief, how she used to make + us laugh the day long! We lived together, a happy family of three. Often + of a long winter’s evening we would first have tea at the big round table, + and then betake ourselves to our work; the while that, to amuse the child + and to keep her out of mischief, the old lady would set herself to tell + stories. What stories they were!—though stories less suitable for a + child than for a grown-up, educated person. My word! Why, I myself have + sat listening to them, as I smoked my pipe, until I have forgotten about + work altogether. And then, as the story grew grimmer, the little child, + our little bag of mischief, would grow thoughtful in proportion, and clasp + her rosy cheeks in her tiny hands, and, hiding her face, press closer to + the old landlady. Ah, how I loved to see her at those moments! As one + gazed at her one would fail to notice how the candle was flickering, or + how the storm was swishing the snow about the courtyard. Yes, that was a + goodly life, my Barbara, and we lived it for nearly twenty years.... How + my tongue does carry me away! Maybe the subject does not interest you, and + I myself find it a not over-easy subject to recall—especially at the + present time. + Darkness is falling, and Theresa is busying herself with something or + another. My head and my back are aching, and even my thoughts seem to be + in pain, so strangely do they occur. Yes, my heart is sad today, + Barbara.... What is it you have written to me?——“Why do you + not come in PERSON to see me?” Dear one, what would people say? I should + have but to cross the courtyard for people to begin noticing us, and + asking themselves questions. Gossip and scandal would arise, and there + would be read into the affair quite another meaning than the real one. No, + little angel, it were better that I should see you tomorrow at Vespers. + That will be the better plan, and less hurtful to us both. Nor must you + chide me, beloved, because I have written you a letter like this (reading + it through, I see it to be all odds and ends); for I am an old man now, + dear Barbara, and an uneducated one. Little learning had I in my youth, + and things refuse to fix themselves in my brain when I try to learn them + anew. No, I am not skilled in letter-writing, Barbara, and, without being + told so, or any one laughing at me for it, I know that, whenever I try to + describe anything with more than ordinary distinctness, I fall into the + mistake of talking sheer rubbish.... I saw you at your window today—yes, + I saw you as you were drawing down the blind! Good-bye, goodbye, little + Barbara, and may God keep you! Good-bye, my own Barbara Alexievna!—Your + sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Do not think that I could write to you in a satirical vein, for + I am too old to show my teeth to no purpose, and people would laugh at me, + and quote our Russian proverb: “Who diggeth a pit for another one, the + same shall fall into it himself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 9th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Are not you, my friend and benefactor, + just a little ashamed to repine and give way to such despondency? And + surely you are not offended with me? Ah! Though often thoughtless in my + speech, I never should have imagined that you would take my words as a + jest at your expense. Rest assured that NEVER should I make sport of your + years or of your character. Only my own levity is at fault; still more, + the fact that I am so weary of life. + </p> + <p> + What will such a feeling not engender? To tell you the truth, I had + supposed that YOU were jesting in your letter; wherefore, my heart was + feeling heavy at the thought that you could feel so displeased with me. + Kind comrade and helper, you will be doing me an injustice if for a single + moment you ever suspect that I am lacking in feeling or in gratitude + towards you. My heart, believe me, is able to appraise at its true worth + all that you have done for me by protecting me from my enemies, and from + hatred and persecution. Never shall I cease to pray to God for you; and, + should my prayers ever reach Him and be received of Heaven, then assuredly + fortune will smile upon you! + </p> + <p> + Today I am not well. By turns I shiver and flush with heat, and Thedora is + greatly disturbed about me.... Do not scruple to come and see me, Makar + Alexievitch. How can it concern other people what you do? You and I are + well enough acquainted with each other, and one’s own affairs are one’s + own affairs. Goodbye, Makar Alexievitch, for I have come to the end of all + I had to say, and am feeling too unwell to write more. Again I beg of you + not to be angry with me, but to rest assured of my constant respect and + attachment.—Your humble, devoted servant, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 12th + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST MISTRESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I pray you, my beloved, to tell + me what ails you. Every one of your letters fills me with alarm. On the + other hand, in every letter I urge you to be more careful of yourself, and + to wrap up yourself warmly, and to avoid going out in bad weather, and to + be in all things prudent. Yet you go and disobey me! Ah, little angel, you + are a perfect child! I know well that you are as weak as a blade of grass, + and that, no matter what wind blows upon you, you are ready to fade. But + you must be careful of yourself, dearest; you MUST look after yourself + better; you MUST avoid all risks, lest you plunge your friends into + desolation and despair. + </p> + <p> + Dearest, you also express a wish to learn the details of my daily life and + surroundings. That wish I hasten to satisfy. Let me begin at the + beginning, since, by doing so, I shall explain things more systematically. + In the first place, on entering this house, one passes into a very bare + hall, and thence along a passage to a mean staircase. The reception room, + however, is bright, clean, and spacious, and is lined with redwood and + metal-work. But the scullery you would not care to see; it is greasy, + dirty, and odoriferous, while the stairs are in rags, and the walls so + covered with filth that the hand sticks fast wherever it touches them. + Also, on each landing there is a medley of boxes, chairs, and dilapidated + wardrobes; while the windows have had most of their panes shattered, and + everywhere stand washtubs filled with dirt, litter, eggshells, and + fish-bladders. The smell is abominable. In short, the house is not a nice + one. + </p> + <p> + As to the disposition of the rooms, I have described it to you already. + True, they are convenient enough, yet every one of them has an ATMOSPHERE. + I do not mean that they smell badly so much as that each of them seems to + contain something which gives forth a rank, sickly-sweet odour. At first + the impression is an unpleasant one, but a couple of minutes will suffice + to dissipate it, for the reason that EVERYTHING here smells—people’s + clothes, hands, and everything else—and one grows accustomed to the + rankness. Canaries, however, soon die in this house. A naval officer here + has just bought his fifth. Birds cannot live long in such an air. Every + morning, when fish or beef is being cooked, and washing and scrubbing are + in progress, the house is filled with steam. Always, too, the kitchen is + full of linen hanging out to dry; and since my room adjoins that + apartment, the smell from the clothes causes me not a little annoyance. + However, one can grow used to anything. + </p> + <p> + From earliest dawn the house is astir as its inmates rise, walk about, and + stamp their feet. That is to say, everyone who has to go to work then gets + out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken of. Most of the tea-urns belong + to the landlady; and since there are not very many of them, we have to + wait our turn. Anyone who fails to do so will find his teapot emptied and + put away. On the first occasion, that was what happened to myself. Well, + is there anything else to tell you? Already I have made the acquaintance + of the company here. The naval officer took the initiative in calling upon + me, and his frankness was such that he told me all about his father, his + mother, his sister (who is married to a lawyer of Tula), and the town of + Kronstadt. Also, he promised me his patronage, and asked me to come and + take tea with him. I kept the appointment in a room where card-playing is + continually in progress; and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made + to induce me to gamble. Whether or not my refusal seemed to the company + ridiculous I cannot say, but at all events my companions played the whole + evening, and were playing when I left. The dust and smoke in the room made + my eyes ache. I declined, as I say, to play cards, and was, therefore, + requested to discourse on philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at + all—a result which I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of + going there again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but + gambling. Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his room—though, + in his case, everything is done delicately and with a certain refinement, + so that the thing has something of a retiring and innocent air. + </p> + <p> + In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman. In fact, + she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so what do you think of + her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in consumption, and, with + Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the entire staff of the establishment. + Whether or not Phaldoni has any other name I do not know, but at least he + answers to this one, and every one calls him by it. A red-haired, + swine-jowled, snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever wrangling with + Theresa, until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, life is not overly + pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the household wholly at rest, + for always there are people sitting up to play cards. Sometimes, too, + certain things are done of which it would be shameful for me to speak. In + particular, hardened though I am, it astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES + should care to live in this Sodom. For example, there is a family of poor + folk who have rented from the landlady a room which does not adjoin the + other rooms, but is set apart in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet people + they are! Not a sound is to be heard from them. The father—he is + called Gorshkov—is a little grey-headed tchinovnik who, seven years + ago, was dismissed from public service, and now walks about in a coat so + dirty and ragged that it hurts one to see it. Indeed it is a worse coat + even than mine! Also, he is so thin and frail (at times I meet him in the + corridor) that his knees quake under him, his hands and head are tremulous + with some disease (God only knows what!), and he so fears and distrusts + everybody that he always walks alone. Reserved though I myself am, he is + even worse. As for his family, it consists of a wife and three children. + The eldest of the latter—a boy—is as frail as his father, + while the mother—a woman who, formerly, must have been good looking, + and still has a striking aspect in spite of her pallor—goes about in + the sorriest of rags. Also I have heard that they are in debt to our + landlady, as well as that she is not overly kind to them. Moreover, I have + heard that Gorshkov lost his post through some unpleasantness or other—through + a legal suit or process of which I could not exactly tell you the nature. + Yes, they certainly are poor—Oh, my God, how poor! At the same time, + never a sound comes from their room. It is as though not a soul were + living in it. Never does one hear even the children—which is an + unusual thing, seeing that children are ever ready to sport and play, and + if they fail to do so it is a bad sign. One evening when I chanced to be + passing the door of their room, and all was quiet in the house, I heard + through the door a sob, and then a whisper, and then another sob, as + though somebody within were weeping, and with such subdued bitterness that + it tore my heart to hear the sound. In fact, the thought of these poor + people never left me all night, and quite prevented me from sleeping. + </p> + <p> + Well, good-bye, my little Barbara, my little friend beyond price. I have + described to you everything to the best of my ability. All today you have + been in my thoughts; all today my heart has been yearning for you. I + happen to know, dearest one, that you lack a warm cloak. To me too, these + St. Petersburg springs, with their winds and their snow showers, spell + death. Good heavens, how the breezes bite one! Do not be angry, beloved, + that I should write like this. Style I have not. Would that I had! I write + just what wanders into my brain, in the hope that I may cheer you up a + little. Of course, had I had a good education, things might have been + different; but, as things were, I could not have one. Never did I learn + even to do simple sums!—Your faithful and unchangeable friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 25th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Today I met my cousin Sasha. To see + her going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly. Moreover, it has reached + me, through a side wind, that she has been making inquiry for me, and + dogging my footsteps, under the pretext that she wishes to pardon me, to + forget the past, and to renew our acquaintance. Well, among other things + she told me that, whereas you are not a kinsman of mine, that she is my + nearest relative; that you have no right whatever to enter into family + relations with us; and that it is wrong and shameful for me to be living + upon your earnings and charity. Also, she said that I must have forgotten + all that she did for me, though thereby she saved both myself and my + mother from starvation, and gave us food and drink; that for two and a + half years we caused her great loss; and, above all things, that she + excused us what we owed her. Even my poor mother she did not spare. Would + that she, my dead parent, could know how I am being treated! But God knows + all about it.... Also, Anna declared that it was solely through my own + fault that my fortunes declined after she had bettered them; that she is + in no way responsible for what then happened; and that I have but myself + to blame for having been either unable or unwilling to defend my honour. + Great God! WHO, then, has been at fault? According to Anna, Hospodin [Mr.] + Bwikov was only right when he declined to marry a woman who—But need + I say it? It is cruel to hear such lies as hers. What is to become of me I + do not know. I tremble and sob and weep. Indeed, even to write this letter + has cost me two hours. At least it might have been thought that Anna would + have confessed HER share in the past. Yet see what she says!... For the + love of God do not be anxious about me, my friend, my only benefactor. + Thedora is over apt to exaggerate matters. I am not REALLY ill. I have + merely caught a little cold. I caught it last night while I was walking to + Bolkovo, to hear Mass sung for my mother. Ah, mother, my poor mother! + Could you but rise from the grave and learn what is being done to your + daughter! + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + May 20th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,—I am sending you a few grapes, which are + good for a convalescent person, and strongly recommended by doctors for + the allayment of fever. Also, you were saying the other day that you would + like some roses; wherefore, I now send you a bunch. Are you at all able to + eat, my darling?—for that is the chief point which ought to be seen + to. Let us thank God that the past and all its unhappiness are gone! Yes, + let us give thanks to Heaven for that much! As for books, I cannot get + hold of any, except for a book which, written in excellent style, is, I + believe, to be had here. At all events, people keep praising it very much, + and I have begged the loan of it for myself. Should you too like to read + it? In this respect, indeed, I feel nervous, for the reason that it is so + difficult to divine what your taste in books may be, despite my knowledge + of your character. Probably you would like poetry—the poetry of + sentiment and of love making? Well, I will send you a book of MY OWN + poems. Already I have copied out part of the manuscript. + </p> + <p> + Everything with me is going well; so pray do not be anxious on my account, + beloved. What Thedora told you about me was sheer rubbish. Tell her from + me that she has not been speaking the truth. Yes, do not fail to give this + mischief-maker my message. It is not the case that I have gone and sold a + new uniform. Why should I do so, seeing that I have forty roubles of + salary still to come to me? Do not be uneasy, my darling. Thedora is a + vindictive woman—merely a vindictive woman. We shall yet see better + days. Only do you get well, my angel—only do you get well, for the + love of God, lest you grieve an old man. Also, who told you that I was + looking thin? Slanders again—nothing but slanders! I am as healthy + as could be, and have grown so fat that I am ashamed to be so sleek of + paunch. Would that you were equally healthy!... Now goodbye, my angel. I + kiss every one of your tiny fingers, and remain ever your constant friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—But what is this, dearest one, that you have written to me? Why + do you place me upon such a pedestal? Moreover, how could I come and visit + you frequently? How, I repeat? Of course, I might avail myself of the + cover of night; but, alas! the season of the year is what it is, and + includes no night time to speak of. In fact, although, throughout your + illness and delirium, I scarcely left your side for a moment, I cannot + think how I contrived to do the many things that I did. Later, I ceased to + visit you at all, for the reason that people were beginning to notice + things, and to ask me questions. Yet, even so, a scandal has arisen. + Theresa I trust thoroughly, for she is not a talkative woman; but consider + how it will be when the truth comes out in its entirety! What THEN will + folk not say and think? Nevertheless, be of good cheer, my beloved, and + regain your health. When you have done so we will contrive to arrange a + rendezvous out of doors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 1st + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—So eager am I to do something that + will please and divert you in return for your care, for your ceaseless + efforts on my behalf—in short, for your love for me—that I + have decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving into my locker, + and extracting thence the manuscript which I send you herewith. I began it + during the happier period of my life, and have continued it at intervals + since. So often have you asked me about my former existence—about my + mother, about Pokrovski, about my sojourn with Anna Thedorovna, about my + more recent misfortunes; so often have you expressed an earnest desire to + read the manuscript in which (God knows why) I have recorded certain + incidents of my life, that I feel no doubt but that the sending of it will + give you sincere pleasure. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read it, + for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned its + concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am—how this + insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! + </p> + <p> + B. D. ONE + </p> + <p> + UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the + happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here in the depths + of the province of Tula, where my father filled the position of steward on + the vast estates of the Prince P——. Our house was situated in + one of the Prince’s villages, and we lived a quiet, obscure, but happy, + life. A gay little child was I—my one idea being ceaselessly to run + about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a + thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and my + mother with her housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any lessons—a + circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I would hie me to + a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where the sun could + warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my hands with + bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get blamed + afterwards, but I did not care. + </p> + <p> + Had it befallen me never to quit that village—had it befallen me to + remain for ever in that spot—I should always have been happy; but + fate ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before my girlhood + had come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years old when we removed + to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to recall the mournful gatherings + before our departure, and to recall how bitterly I wept when the time came + for us to say farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember throwing + myself upon my father’s neck, and beseeching him with tears to stay in the + country a little longer; but he bid me be silent, and my mother, adding + her tears to mine, explained that business matters compelled us to go. As + a matter of fact, old Prince P—— had just died, and his heirs + had dismissed my father from his post; whereupon, since he had a little + money privately invested in St. Petersburg, he bethought him that his + personal presence in the capital was necessary for the due management of + his affairs. It was my mother who told me this. Consequently we settled + here in St. Petersburg, and did not again move until my father died. + </p> + <p> + How difficult I found it to grow accustomed to my new life! At the time of + our removal to St. Petersburg it was autumn—a season when, in the + country, the weather is clear and keen and bright, all agricultural labour + has come to an end, the great sheaves of corn are safely garnered in the + byre, and the birds are flying hither and thither in clamorous flocks. + Yes, at that season the country is joyous and fair, but here in St. + Petersburg, at the time when we reached the city, we encountered nothing + but rain, bitter autumn frosts, dull skies, ugliness, and crowds of + strangers who looked hostile, discontented, and disposed to take offence. + However, we managed to settle down—though I remember that in our new + home there was much noise and confusion as we set the establishment in + order. After this my father was seldom at home, and my mother had few + spare moments; wherefore, I found myself forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The first morning after our arrival, when I awoke from sleep, how sad I + felt! I could see that our windows looked out upon a drab space of wall, + and that the street below was littered with filth. Passers-by were few, + and as they walked they kept muffling themselves up against the cold. + </p> + <p> + Then there ensued days when dullness and depression reigned supreme. + Scarcely a relative or an acquaintance did we possess in St. Petersburg, + and even Anna Thedorovna and my father had come to loggerheads with one + another, owing to the fact that he owed her money. In fact, our only + visitors were business callers, and as a rule these came but to wrangle, + to argue, and to raise a disturbance. Such visits would make my father + look very discontented, and seem out of temper. For hours and hours he + would pace the room with a frown on his face and a brooding silence on his + lips. Even my mother did not dare address him at these times, while, for + my own part, I used to sit reading quietly and humbly in a corner—not + venturing to make a movement of any sort. + </p> + <p> + Three months after our arrival in St. Petersburg I was sent to a + boarding-school. Here I found myself thrown among strange people; here + everything was grim and uninviting, with teachers continually shouting at + me, and my fellow-pupils for ever holding me up to derision, and myself + constantly feeling awkward and uncouth. How strict, how exacting was the + system! Appointed hours for everything, a common table, ever-insistent + teachers! These things simply worried and tortured me. Never from the + first could I sleep, but used to weep many a chill, weary night away. In + the evenings everyone would have to repeat or to learn her lessons. As I + crouched over a dialogue or a vocabulary, without daring even to stir, how + my thoughts would turn to the chimney-corner at home, to my father, to my + mother, to my old nurse, to the tales which the latter had been used to + tell! How sad it all was! The memory of the merest trifle at home would + please me, and I would think and think how nice things used to be at home. + Once more I would be sitting in our little parlour at tea with my parents—in + the familiar little parlour where everything was snug and warm! How + ardently, how convulsively I would seem to be embracing my mother! Thus I + would ponder, until at length tears of sorrow would softly gush forth and + choke my bosom, and drive the lessons out of my head. For I never could + master the tasks of the morrow; no matter how much my mistress and + fellow-pupils might gird at me, no matter how much I might repeat my + lessons over and over to myself, knowledge never came with the morning. + Consequently, I used to be ordered the kneeling punishment, and given only + one meal in the day. How dull and dispirited I used to feel! From the + first my fellow-pupils used to tease and deride and mock me whenever I was + saying my lessons. Also, they used to pinch me as we were on our way to + dinner or tea, and to make groundless complaints of me to the head + mistress. On the other hand, how heavenly it seemed when, on Saturday + evening, my old nurse arrived to fetch me! How I would embrace the old + woman in transports of joy! After dressing me, and wrapping me up, she + would find that she could scarcely keep pace with me on the way home, so + full was I of chatter and tales about one thing and another. Then, when I + had arrived home merry and lighthearted, how fervently I would embrace my + parents, as though I had not seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would + there be—such a talking and a telling of tales! To everyone I would + run with a greeting, and laugh, and giggle, and scamper about, and skip + for very joy. True, my father and I used to have grave conversations about + lessons and teachers and the French language and grammar; yet we were all + very happy and contented together. Even now it thrills me to think of + those moments. For my father’s sake I tried hard to learn my lessons, for + I could see that he was spending his last kopeck upon me, and himself + subsisting God knows how. Every day he grew more morose and discontented + and irritable; every day his character kept changing for the worse. He had + suffered an influx of debts, nor were his business affairs prospering. As + for my mother, she was afraid even to say a word, or to weep aloud, for + fear of still further angering him. Gradually she sickened, grew thinner + and thinner, and became taken with a painful cough. Whenever I reached + home from school I would find every one low-spirited, and my mother + shedding silent tears, and my father raging. Bickering and high words + would arise, during which my father was wont to declare that, though he no + longer derived the smallest pleasure or relaxation from life, and had + spent his last coin upon my education, I had not yet mastered the French + language. In short, everything began to go wrong, to turn to unhappiness; + and for that circumstance, my father took vengeance upon myself and my + mother. How he could treat my poor mother so I cannot understand. It used + to rend my heart to see her, so hollow were her cheeks becoming, so sunken + her eyes, so hectic her face. But it was chiefly around myself that the + disputes raged. Though beginning only with some trifle, they would soon go + on to God knows what. Frequently, even I myself did not know to what they + related. Anything and everything would enter into them, for my father + would say that I was an utter dunce at the French language; that the head + mistress of my school was a stupid, common sort of women who cared nothing + for morals; that he (my father) had not yet succeeded in obtaining another + post; that Lamonde’s “Grammar” was a wretched book—even a worse one + than Zapolski’s; that a great deal of money had been squandered upon me; + that it was clear that I was wasting my time in repeating dialogues and + vocabularies; that I alone was at fault, and that I must answer for + everything. Yet this did not arise from any WANT OF LOVE for me on the + part of my father, but rather from the fact that he was incapable of + putting himself in my own and my mother’s place. It came of a defect of + character. + </p> + <p> + All these cares and worries and disappointments tortured my poor father + until he became moody and distrustful. Next he began to neglect his + health, with the result that, catching a chill, he died, after a short + illness, so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a few days we were almost + beside ourselves with the shock—my mother, in particular, lying for + a while in such a state of torpor that I had fears for her reason. The + instant my father was dead creditors seemed to spring up out of the + ground, and to assail us en masse. Everything that we possessed had to be + surrendered to them, including a little house which my father had bought + six months after our arrival in St. Petersburg. How matters were finally + settled I do not know, but we found ourselves roofless, shelterless, and + without a copper. My mother was grievously ill, and of means of + subsistence we had none. Before us there loomed only ruin, sheer ruin. At + the time I was fourteen years old. Soon afterwards Anna Thedorovna came to + see us, saying that she was a lady of property and our relative; and this + my mother confirmed—though, true, she added that Anna was only a + very DISTANT relative. Anna had never taken the least notice of us during + my father’s lifetime, yet now she entered our presence with tears in her + eyes, and an assurance that she meant to better our fortunes. Having + condoled with us on our loss and destitute position, she added that my + father had been to blame for everything, in that he had lived beyond his + means, and taken upon himself more than he was able to perform. Also, she + expressed a wish to draw closer to us, and to forget old scores; and when + my mother explained that, for her own part, she harboured no resentment + against Anna, the latter burst into tears, and, hurrying my mother away to + church, then and there ordered Mass to be said for the “dear departed,” as + she called my father. In this manner she effected a solemn reconciliation + with my mother. + </p> + <p> + Next, after long negotiations and vacillations, coupled with much vivid + description of our destitute position, our desolation, and our + helplessness, Anna invited us to pay her (as she expressed it) a “return + visit.” For this my mother duly thanked her, and considered the invitation + for a while; after which, seeing that there was nothing else to be done, + she informed Anna Thedorovna that she was prepared, gratefully, to accept + her offer. Ah, how I remember the morning when we removed to Vassilievski + Island! [A quarter of St. Petersburg.] It was a clear, dry, frosty morning + in autumn. My mother could not restrain her tears, and I too felt + depressed. Nay, my very heart seemed to be breaking under a strange, + undefined load of sorrow. How terrible it all seemed!... + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + AT first—that is to say, until my mother and myself grew used to our + new abode—we found living at Anna Thedorovna’s both strange and + disagreeable. The house was her own, and contained five rooms, three of + which she shared with my orphaned cousin, Sasha (whom she had brought up + from babyhood); a fourth was occupied by my mother and myself; and the + fifth was rented of Anna by a poor student named Pokrovski. Although Anna + lived in good style—in far better style than might have been + expected—her means and her avocation were conjectural. Never was she + at rest; never was she not busy with some mysterious something or other. + Also, she possessed a wide and varied circle of friends. The stream of + callers was perpetual—although God only knows who they were, or what + their business was. No sooner did my mother hear the door-bell ring than + off she would carry me to our own apartment. This greatly displeased Anna, + who used again and again to assure my mother that we were too proud for + our station in life. In fact, she would sulk for hours about it. At the + time I could not understand these reproaches, and it was not until long + afterwards that I learned—or rather, I guessed—why eventually + my mother declared that she could not go on living with Anna. Yes, Anna + was a bad woman. Never did she let us alone. As to the exact motive why + she had asked us to come and share her house with her I am still in the + dark. At first she was not altogether unkind to us but, later, she + revealed to us her real character—as soon, that is to say, as she + saw that we were at her mercy, and had nowhere else to go. Yes, in early + days she was quite kind to me—even offensively so, but afterwards, I + had to suffer as much as my mother. Constantly did Anna reproach us; + constantly did she remind us of her benefactions, and introduce us to her + friends as poor relatives of hers whom, out of goodness of heart and for + the love of Christ, she had received into her bosom. At table, also, she + would watch every mouthful that we took; and, if our appetite failed, + immediately she would begin as before, and reiterate that we were + over-dainty, that we must not assume that riches would mean happiness, and + that we had better go and live by ourselves. Moreover, she never ceased to + inveigh against my father—saying that he had sought to be better + than other people, and thereby had brought himself to a bad end; that he + had left his wife and daughter destitute; and that, but for the fact that + we had happened to meet with a kind and sympathetic Christian soul, God + alone knew where we should have laid our heads, save in the street. What + did that woman not say? To hear her was not so much galling as disgusting. + From time to time my mother would burst into tears, her health grew worse + from day to day, and her body was becoming sheer skin and bone. All the + while, too, we had to work—to work from morning till night, for we + had contrived to obtain some employment as occasional sempstresses. This, + however, did not please Anna, who used to tell us that there was no room + in her house for a modiste’s establishment. Yet we had to get clothes to + wear, to provide for unforeseen expenses, and to have a little money at + our disposal in case we should some day wish to remove elsewhere. + Unfortunately, the strain undermined my mother’s health, and she became + gradually weaker. Sickness, like a cankerworm, was gnawing at her life, + and dragging her towards the tomb. Well could I see what she was enduring, + what she was suffering. Yes, it all lay open to my eyes. + </p> + <p> + Day succeeded day, and each day was like the last one. We lived a life as + quiet as though we had been in the country. Anna herself grew quieter in + proportion as she came to realise the extent of her power over us. In + nothing did we dare to thwart her. From her portion of the house our + apartment was divided by a corridor, while next to us (as mentioned above) + dwelt a certain Pokrovski, who was engaged in teaching Sasha the French + and German languages, as well as history and geography—“all the + sciences,” as Anna used to say. In return for these services he received + free board and lodging. As for Sasha, she was a clever, but rude and + uncouth, girl of thirteen. On one occasion Anna remarked to my mother that + it might be as well if I also were to take some lessons, seeing that my + education had been neglected at school; and, my mother joyfully assenting, + I joined Sasha for a year in studying under this Pokrovski. + </p> + <p> + The latter was a poor—a very poor—young man whose health would + not permit of his undertaking the regular university course. Indeed, it + was only for form’s sake that we called him “The Student.” He lived in + such a quiet, humble, retiring fashion that never a sound reached us from + his room. Also, his exterior was peculiar—he moved and walked + awkwardly, and uttered his words in such a strange manner that at first I + could never look at him without laughing. Sasha was for ever playing + tricks upon him—more especially when he was giving us our lessons. + But unfortunately, he was of a temperament as excitable as herself. + Indeed, he was so irritable that the least trifle would send him into a + frenzy, and set him shouting at us, and complaining of our conduct. + Sometimes he would even rush away to his room before school hours were + over, and sit there for days over his books, of which he had a store that + was both rare and valuable. In addition, he acted as teacher at another + establishment, and received payment for his services there; and, whenever + he had received his fees for this extra work, he would hasten off and + purchase more books. + </p> + <p> + In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was a good, + worthy fellow—more so than any of the people with whom we otherwise + came in contact. My mother in particular had a great respect for him, and, + after herself, he was my best friend. But at first I was just an overgrown + hoyden, and joined Sasha in playing the fool. For hours we would devise + tricks to anger and distract him, for he looked extremely ridiculous when + he was angry, and so diverted us the more (ashamed though I am now to + admit it). But once, when we had driven him nearly to tears, I heard him + say to himself under his breath, “What cruel children!” and instantly I + repented—I began to feel sad and ashamed and sorry for him. I + reddened to my ears, and begged him, almost with tears, not to mind us, + nor to take offence at our stupid jests. Nevertheless, without finishing + the lesson, he closed his book, and departed to his own room. All that day + I felt torn with remorse. To think that we two children had forced him, + the poor, the unhappy one, to remember his hard lot! And at night I could + not sleep for grief and regret. Remorse is said to bring relief to the + soul, but it is not so. How far my grief was internally connected with my + conceit I do not know, but at least I did not wish him to think me a baby, + seeing that I had now reached the age of fifteen years. Therefore, from + that day onwards I began to torture my imagination with devising a + thousand schemes which should compel Pokrovski to alter his opinion of me. + At the same time, being yet shy and reserved by nature, I ended by finding + that, in my present position, I could make up my mind to nothing but vague + dreams (and such dreams I had). However, I ceased to join Sasha in playing + the fool, while Pokrovski, for his part, ceased to lose his temper with us + so much. Unfortunately this was not enough to satisfy my self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + At this point, I must say a few words about the strangest, the most + interesting, the most pitiable human being that I have ever come across. I + speak of him now—at this particular point in these memoirs—for + the reason that hitherto I had paid him no attention whatever, and began + to do so now only because everything connected with Pokrovski had suddenly + become of absorbing interest in my eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes there came to the house a ragged, poorly-dressed, grey-headed, + awkward, amorphous—in short, a very strange-looking—little old + man. At first glance it might have been thought that he was perpetually + ashamed of something—that he had on his conscience something which + always made him, as it were, bristle up and then shrink into himself. Such + curious starts and grimaces did he indulge in that one was forced to + conclude that he was scarcely in his right mind. On arriving, he would + halt for a while by the window in the hall, as though afraid to enter; + until, should any one happen to pass in or out of the door—whether + Sasha or myself or one of the servants (to the latter he always resorted + the most readily, as being the most nearly akin to his own class)—he + would begin to gesticulate and to beckon to that person, and to make + various signs. Then, should the person in question nod to him, or call him + by name (the recognised token that no other visitor was present, and that + he might enter freely), he would open the door gently, give a smile of + satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together, and proceed on tiptoe to + young Pokrovski’s room. This old fellow was none other than Pokrovski’s + father. + </p> + <p> + Later I came to know his story in detail. Formerly a civil servant, he had + possessed no additional means, and so had occupied a very low and + insignificant position in the service. Then, after his first wife (mother + of the younger Pokrovski) had died, the widower bethought him of marrying + a second time, and took to himself a tradesman’s daughter, who soon + assumed the reins over everything, and brought the home to rack and ruin, + so that the old man was worse off than before. But to the younger + Pokrovski, fate proved kinder, for a landowner named Bwikov, who had + formerly known the lad’s father and been his benefactor, took the boy + under his protection, and sent him to school. Another reason why this + Bwikov took an interest in young Pokrovski was that he had known the lad’s + dead mother, who, while still a serving-maid, had been befriended by Anna + Thedorovna, and subsequently married to the elder Pokrovski. At the + wedding Bwikov, actuated by his friendship for Anna, conferred upon the + young bride a dowry of five thousand roubles; but whither that money had + since disappeared I cannot say. It was from Anna’s lips that I heard the + story, for the student Pokrovski was never prone to talk about his family + affairs. His mother was said to have been very good-looking; wherefore, it + is the more mysterious why she should have made so poor a match. She died + when young—only four years after her espousal. + </p> + <p> + From school the young Pokrovski advanced to a gymnasium, [Secondary + school.] and thence to the University, where Bwikov, who frequently + visited the capital, continued to accord the youth his protection. + Gradually, however, ill health put an end to the young man’s university + course; whereupon Bwikov introduced and personally recommended him to Anna + Thedorovna, and he came to lodge with her on condition that he taught + Sasha whatever might be required of him. + </p> + <p> + Grief at the harshness of his wife led the elder Pokrovski to plunge into + dissipation, and to remain in an almost permanent condition of + drunkenness. Constantly his wife beat him, or sent him to sit in the + kitchen—with the result that in time, he became so inured to blows + and neglect, that he ceased to complain. Still not greatly advanced in + years, he had nevertheless endangered his reason through evil courses—his + only sign of decent human feeling being his love for his son. The latter + was said to resemble his dead mother as one pea may resemble another. What + recollections, therefore, of the kind helpmeet of former days may not have + moved the breast of the poor broken old man to this boundless affection + for the boy? Of naught else could the father ever speak but of his son, + and never did he fail to visit him twice a week. To come oftener he did + not dare, for the reason that the younger Pokrovski did not like these + visits of his father’s. In fact, there can be no doubt that the youth’s + greatest fault was his lack of filial respect. Yet the father was + certainly rather a difficult person to deal with, for, in the first place, + he was extremely inquisitive, while, in the second place, his long-winded + conversation and questions—questions of the most vapid and senseless + order conceivable—always prevented the son from working. Likewise, + the old man occasionally arrived there drunk. Gradually, however, the son + was weaning his parent from his vicious ways and everlasting + inquisitiveness, and teaching the old man to look upon him, his son, as an + oracle, and never to speak without that son’s permission. + </p> + <p> + On the subject of his Petinka, as he called him, the poor old man could + never sufficiently rhapsodise and dilate. Yet when he arrived to see his + son he almost invariably had on his face a downcast, timid expression that + was probably due to uncertainty concerning the way in which he would be + received. For a long time he would hesitate to enter, and if I happened to + be there he would question me for twenty minutes or so as to whether his + Petinka was in good health, as well as to the sort of mood he was in, + whether he was engaged on matters of importance, what precisely he was + doing (writing or meditating), and so on. Then, when I had sufficiently + encouraged and reassured the old man, he would make up his mind to enter, + and quietly and cautiously open the door. Next, he would protrude his head + through the chink, and if he saw that his son was not angry, but threw him + a nod, he would glide noiselessly into the room, take off his scarf, and + hang up his hat (the latter perennially in a bad state of repair, full of + holes, and with a smashed brim)—the whole being done without a word + or a sound of any kind. Next, the old man would seat himself warily on a + chair, and, never removing his eyes from his son, follow his every + movement, as though seeking to gauge Petinka’s state of mind. On the other + hand, if the son was not in good spirits, the father would make a note of + the fact, and at once get up, saying that he had “only called for a minute + or two,” that, “having been out for a long walk, and happening at the + moment to be passing,” he had “looked in for a moment’s rest.” Then + silently and humbly the old man would resume his hat and scarf; softly he + would open the door, and noiselessly depart with a forced smile on his + face—the better to bear the disappointment which was seething in his + breast, the better to help him not to show it to his son. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, whenever the son received his father civilly the old + man would be struck dumb with joy. Satisfaction would beam in his face, in + his every gesture, in his every movement. And if the son deigned to engage + in conversation with him, the old man always rose a little from his chair, + and answered softly, sympathetically, with something like reverence, while + strenuously endeavouring to make use of the most recherche (that is to + say, the most ridiculous) expressions. But, alas! He had not the gift of + words. Always he grew confused, and turned red in the face; never did he + know what to do with his hands or with himself. Likewise, whenever he had + returned an answer of any kind, he would go on repeating the same in a + whisper, as though he were seeking to justify what he had just said. And + if he happened to have returned a good answer, he would begin to preen + himself, and to straighten his waistcoat, frockcoat and tie, and to assume + an air of conscious dignity. Indeed, on these occasions he would feel so + encouraged, he would carry his daring to such a pitch, that, rising softly + from his chair, he would approach the bookshelves, take thence a book, and + read over to himself some passage or another. All this he would do with an + air of feigned indifference and sangfroid, as though he were free ALWAYS + to use his son’s books, and his son’s kindness were no rarity at all. Yet + on one occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale on being told + by his son not to touch the books. Abashed and confused, he, in his + awkward hurry, replaced the volume wrong side uppermost; whereupon, with a + supreme effort to recover himself, he turned it round with a smile and a + blush, as though he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. + Gradually, as already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father from + his dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three + successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes, also, the + younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or a waistcoat; + whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his acquisition as a peacock. + Not infrequently, also, the old man would step in to visit ourselves, and + bring Sasha and myself gingerbread birds or apples, while talking + unceasingly of Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay attention to our + lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an exemplary son, a son + who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after which he would wink at + us so quizzingly with his left eye, and twist himself about in such + amusing fashion, that we were forced to burst out laughing. My mother had + a great liking for him, but he detested Anna Thedorovna—although in + her presence he would be quieter than water and lowlier than the earth. + </p> + <p> + Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now he thought + me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha; and this hurt me + extremely, seeing that I had done so much to expiate my former behaviour. + Of my efforts in this direction no notice had been taken, and the fact + continued to anger me more and more. Scarcely ever did I address a word to + my tutor between school hours, for I simply could not bring myself to do + it. If I made the attempt I only grew red and confused, and rushed away to + weep in a corner. How it would all have ended I do not know, had not a + curious incident helped to bring about a rapprochement. One evening, when + my mother was sitting in Anna Thedorovna’s room, I crept on tiptoe to + Pokrovski’s apartment, in the belief that he was not at home. Some strange + impulse moved me to do so. True, we had lived cheek by jowl with one + another; yet never once had I caught a glimpse of his abode. Consequently + my heart beat loudly—so loudly, indeed, that it seemed almost to be + bursting from my breast. On entering the room I glanced around me with + tense interest. The apartment was very poorly furnished, and bore few + traces of orderliness. On table and chairs there lay heaps of books; + everywhere were books and papers. Then a strange thought entered my head, + as well as, with the thought, an unpleasant feeling of irritation. It + seemed to me that my friendship, my heart’s affection, meant little to + him, for HE was well-educated, whereas I was stupid, and had learned + nothing, and had read not a single book. So I stood looking wistfully at + the long bookshelves where they groaned under their weight of volumes. I + felt filled with grief, disappointment, and a sort of frenzy. I felt that + I MUST read those books, and decided to do so—to read them one by + one, and with all possible speed. Probably the idea was that, by learning + whatsoever HE knew, I should render myself more worthy of his friendship. + So, I made a rush towards the bookcase nearest me, and, without stopping + further to consider matters, seized hold of the first dusty tome upon + which my hands chanced to alight, and, reddening and growing pale by + turns, and trembling with fear and excitement, clasped the stolen book to + my breast with the intention of reading it by candle light while my mother + lay asleep at night. + </p> + <p> + But how vexed I felt when, on returning to our own room, and hastily + turning the pages, only an old, battered worm-eaten Latin work greeted my + eyes! Without loss of time I retraced my steps. Just when I was about to + replace the book I heard a noise in the corridor outside, and the sound of + footsteps approaching. Fumblingly I hastened to complete what I was about, + but the tiresome book had become so tightly wedged into its row that, on + being pulled out, it caused its fellows to close up too compactly to leave + any place for their comrade. To insert the book was beyond my strength; + yet still I kept pushing and pushing at the row. At last the rusty nail + which supported the shelf (the thing seemed to have been waiting on + purpose for that moment!) broke off short; with the result that the shelf + descended with a crash, and the books piled themselves in a heap on the + floor! Then the door of the room opened, and Pokrovski entered! + </p> + <p> + I must here remark that he never could bear to have his possessions + tampered with. Woe to the person, in particular, who touched his books! + Judge, therefore, of my horror when books small and great, books of every + possible shape and size and thickness, came tumbling from the shelf, and + flew and sprang over the table, and under the chairs, and about the whole + room. I would have turned and fled, but it was too late. “All is over!” + thought I. “All is over! I am ruined, I am undone! Here have I been + playing the fool like a ten-year-old child! What a stupid girl I am! The + monstrous fool!” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Pokrovski was very angry. “What? Have you not done enough?” he + cried. “Are you not ashamed to be for ever indulging in such pranks? Are + you NEVER going to grow sensible?” With that he darted forward to pick up + the books, while I bent down to help him. + </p> + <p> + “You need not, you need not!” he went on. “You would have done far better + not to have entered without an invitation.” + </p> + <p> + Next, a little mollified by my humble demeanour, he resumed in his usual + tutorial tone—the tone which he had adopted in his new-found role of + preceptor: + </p> + <p> + “When are you going to grow steadier and more thoughtful? Consider + yourself for a moment. You are no longer a child, a little girl, but a + maiden of fifteen.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a desire (probably) to satisfy himself that I was no longer a + being of tender years, he threw me a glance—but straightway reddened + to his very ears. This I could not understand, but stood gazing at him in + astonishment. Presently, he straightened himself a little, approached me + with a sort of confused expression, and haltingly said something—probably + it was an apology for not having before perceived that I was now a + grown-up young person. But the next moment I understood. What I did I + hardly know, save that, in my dismay and confusion, I blushed even more + hotly than he had done and, covering my face with my hands, rushed from + the room. + </p> + <p> + What to do with myself for shame I could not think. The one thought in my + head was that he had surprised me in his room. For three whole days I + found myself unable to raise my eyes to his, but blushed always to the + point of weeping. The strangest and most confused of thoughts kept + entering my brain. One of them—the most extravagant—was that I + should dearly like to go to Pokrovski, and to explain to him the + situation, and to make full confession, and to tell him everything without + concealment, and to assure him that I had not acted foolishly as a minx, + but honestly and of set purpose. In fact, I DID make up my mind to take + this course, but lacked the necessary courage to do it. If I had done so, + what a figure I should have cut! Even now I am ashamed to think of it. + </p> + <p> + A few days later, my mother suddenly fell dangerously ill. For two days + past she had not left her bed, while during the third night of her illness + she became seized with fever and delirium. I also had not closed my eyes + during the previous night, but now waited upon my mother, sat by her bed, + brought her drink at intervals, and gave her medicine at duly appointed + hours. The next night I suffered terribly. Every now and then sleep would + cause me to nod, and objects grow dim before my eyes. Also, my head was + turning dizzy, and I could have fainted for very weariness. Yet always my + mother’s feeble moans recalled me to myself as I started, momentarily + awoke, and then again felt drowsiness overcoming me. What torture it was! + I do not know, I cannot clearly remember, but I think that, during a + moment when wakefulness was thus contending with slumber, a strange dream, + a horrible vision, visited my overwrought brain, and I awoke in terror. + The room was nearly in darkness, for the candle was flickering, and + throwing stray beams of light which suddenly illuminated the room, danced + for a moment on the walls, and then disappeared. Somehow I felt afraid—a + sort of horror had come upon me—my imagination had been over-excited + by the evil dream which I had experienced, and a feeling of oppression was + crushing my heart.... I leapt from the chair, and involuntarily uttered a + cry—a cry wrung from me by the terrible, torturing sensation that + was upon me. Presently the door opened, and Pokrovski entered. + </p> + <p> + I remember that I was in his arms when I recovered my senses. Carefully + seating me on a bench, he handed me a glass of water, and then asked me a + few questions—though how I answered them I do not know. “You + yourself are ill,” he said as he took my hand. “You yourself are VERY ill. + You are feverish, and I can see that you are knocking yourself out through + your neglect of your own health. Take a little rest. Lie down and go to + sleep. Yes, lie down, lie down,” he continued without giving me time to + protest. Indeed, fatigue had so exhausted my strength that my eyes were + closing from very weakness. So I lay down on the bench with the intention + of sleeping for half an hour only; but, I slept till morning. Pokrovski + then awoke me, saying that it was time for me to go and give my mother her + medicine. + </p> + <p> + When the next evening, about eight o’clock, I had rested a little and was + preparing to spend the night in a chair beside my mother (fixedly meaning + not to go to sleep this time), Pokrovski suddenly knocked at the door. I + opened it, and he informed me that, since, possibly, I might find the time + wearisome, he had brought me a few books to read. I accepted the books, + but do not, even now, know what books they were, nor whether I looked into + them, despite the fact that I never closed my eyes the whole night long. + The truth was that a strange feeling of excitement was preventing me from + sleeping, and I could not rest long in any one spot, but had to keep + rising from my chair, and walking about the room. Throughout my whole + being there seemed to be diffused a kind of elation—of elation at + Pokrovski’s attentions, at the thought that he was anxious and uneasy + about me. Until dawn I pondered and dreamed; and though I felt sure + Pokrovski would not again visit us that night, I gave myself up to fancies + concerning what he might do the following evening. + </p> + <p> + That evening, when everyone else in the house had retired to rest, + Pokrovski opened his door, and opened a conversation from the threshold of + his room. Although, at this distance of time, I cannot remember a word of + what we said to one another, I remember that I blushed, grew confused, + felt vexed with myself, and awaited with impatience the end of the + conversation although I myself had been longing for the meeting to take + place, and had spent the day in dreaming of it, and devising a string of + suitable questions and replies. Yes, that evening saw the first strand in + our friendship knitted; and each subsequent night of my mother’s illness + we spent several hours together. Little by little I overcame his reserve, + but found that each of these conversations left me filled with a sense of + vexation at myself. At the same time, I could see with secret joy and a + sense of proud elation that I was leading him to forget his tiresome + books. At last the conversation turned jestingly upon the upsetting of the + shelf. The moment was a peculiar one, for it came upon me just when I was + in the right mood for self-revelation and candour. In my ardour, my + curious phase of exaltation, I found myself led to make a full confession + of the fact that I had become wishful to learn, to KNOW, something, since + I had felt hurt at being taken for a chit, a mere baby.... I repeat that + that night I was in a very strange frame of mind. My heart was inclined to + be tender, and there were tears standing in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal + as I told him about my friendship for him, about my desire to love him, + about my scheme for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and + making his life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion mingled + with astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I began to feel + terribly pained and disappointed, for I conceived that he had failed to + understand me, or even that he might be laughing at me. Bursting into + tears like a child, I sobbed, and could not stop myself, for I had fallen + into a kind of fit; whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and clasped it + to his breast—saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort me, for + he was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said I do not + remember—I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed, and found + myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my agitation, I + noticed that about him there still lingered an air of constraint and + uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at my enthusiasm and raptures—at + my curiously ardent, unexpected, consuming friendship. It may be that at + first he was amazed, but that afterwards he accepted my devotion and words + of invitation and expressions of interest with the same simple frankness + as I had offered them, and responded to them with an interest, a + friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a friend or a brother + would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my heart! Nothing had I + concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all to his sight, and each day + would see him draw nearer to me. + </p> + <p> + Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those painful, yet + rapturous, hours when, by the trembling light of a lamp, and almost at the + very bedside of my poor sick mother, we kept midnight tryst. Whatsoever + first came into our heads we spoke of—whatsoever came riven from our + hearts, whatsoever seemed to call for utterance, found voice. And almost + always we were happy. What a grievous, yet joyous, period it was—a + period grievous and joyous at the same time! To this day it both hurts and + delights me to recall it. Joyous or bitter though it was, its memories are + yet painful. At least they seem so to me, though a certain sweetness + assuaged the pain. So, whenever I am feeling heartsick and oppressed and + jaded and sad those memories return to freshen and revive me, even as + drops of evening dew return to freshen and revive, after a sultry day, the + poor faded flower which has long been drooping in the noontide heat. + </p> + <p> + My mother grew better, but still I continued to spend the nights on a + chair by her bedside. Often, too, Pokrovski would give me books. At first + I read them merely so as to avoid going to sleep, but afterwards I + examined them with more attention, and subsequently with actual avidity, + for they opened up to me a new, an unexpected, an unknown, an unfamiliar + world. New thoughts, added to new impressions, would come pouring into my + heart in a rich flood; and the more emotion, the more pain and labour, it + cost me to assimilate these new impressions, the dearer did they become to + me, and the more gratefully did they stir my soul to its very depths. + Crowding into my heart without giving it time even to breathe, they would + cause my whole being to become lost in a wondrous chaos. Yet this + spiritual ferment was not sufficiently strong wholly to undo me. For that + I was too fanciful, and the fact saved me. + </p> + <p> + With the passing of my mother’s illness the midnight meetings and long + conversations between myself and Pokrovski came to an end. Only + occasionally did we exchange a few words with one another—words, for + the most part, that were of little purport or substance, yet words to + which it delighted me to apportion their several meanings, their peculiar + secret values. My life had now become full—I was happy; I was + quietly, restfully happy. Thus did several weeks elapse.... + </p> + <p> + One day the elder Pokrovski came to see us, and chattered in a brisk, + cheerful, garrulous sort of way. He laughed, launched out into witticisms, + and, finally, resolved the riddle of his transports by informing us that + in a week’s time it would be his Petinka’s birthday, when, in honour of + the occasion, he (the father) meant to don a new jacket (as well as new + shoes which his wife was going to buy for him), and to come and pay a + visit to his son. In short, the old man was perfectly happy, and gossiped + about whatsoever first entered his head. + </p> + <p> + My lover’s birthday! Thenceforward, I could not rest by night or day. + Whatever might happen, it was my fixed intention to remind Pokrovski of + our friendship by giving him a present. But what sort of present? Finally, + I decided to give him books. I knew that he had long wanted to possess a + complete set of Pushkin’s works, in the latest edition; so, I decided to + buy Pushkin. My private fund consisted of thirty roubles, earned by + handiwork, and designed eventually to procure me a new dress, but at once + I dispatched our cook, old Matrena, to ascertain the price of such an + edition. Horrors! The price of the eleven volumes, added to extra outlay + upon the binding, would amount to at least SIXTY roubles! Where was the + money to come from? I thought and thought, yet could not decide. I did not + like to resort to my mother. Of course she would help me, but in that case + every one in the house would become aware of my gift, and the gift itself + would assume the guise of a recompense—of payment for Pokrovski’s + labours on my behalf during the past year; whereas, I wished to present + the gift ALONE, and without the knowledge of anyone. For the trouble that + he had taken with me I wished to be his perpetual debtor—to make him + no payment at all save my friendship. At length, I thought of a way out of + the difficulty. + </p> + <p> + I knew that of the hucksters in the Gostinni Dvor one could sometimes buy + a book—even one that had been little used and was almost entirely + new—for a half of its price, provided that one haggled sufficiently + over it; wherefore I determined to repair thither. It so happened that, + next day, both Anna Thedorovna and ourselves were in want of sundry + articles; and since my mother was unwell and Anna lazy, the execution of + the commissions devolved upon me, and I set forth with Matrena. + </p> + <p> + Luckily, I soon chanced upon a set of Pushkin, handsomely bound, and set + myself to bargain for it. At first more was demanded than would have been + asked of me in a shop; but afterwards—though not without a great + deal of trouble on my part, and several feints at departing—I + induced the dealer to lower his price, and to limit his demands to ten + roubles in silver. How I rejoiced that I had engaged in this bargaining! + Poor Matrena could not imagine what had come to me, nor why I so desired + to buy books. But, oh horror of horrors! As soon as ever the dealer caught + sight of my capital of thirty roubles in notes, he refused to let the + Pushkin go for less than the sum he had first named; and though, in answer + to my prayers and protestations, he eventually yielded a little, he did so + only to the tune of two-and-a-half roubles more than I possessed, while + swearing that he was making the concession for my sake alone, since I was + “a sweet young lady,” and that he would have done so for no one else in + the world. To think that only two-and-a-half roubles should still be + wanting! I could have wept with vexation. Suddenly an unlooked-for + circumstance occurred to help me in my distress. + </p> + <p> + Not far away, near another table that was heaped with books, I perceived + the elder Pokrovski, and a crowd of four or five hucksters plaguing him + nearly out of his senses. Each of these fellows was proffering the old man + his own particular wares; and while there was nothing that they did not + submit for his approval, there was nothing that he wished to buy. The poor + old fellow had the air of a man who is receiving a thrashing. What to make + of what he was being offered him he did not know. Approaching him, I + inquired what he happened to be doing there; whereat the old man was + delighted, since he liked me (it may be) no less than he did Petinka. + </p> + <p> + “I am buying some books, Barbara Alexievna,” said he, “I am buying them + for my Petinka. It will be his birthday soon, and since he likes books I + thought I would get him some.” + </p> + <p> + The old man always expressed himself in a very roundabout sort of fashion, + and on the present occasion he was doubly, terribly confused. Of no matter + what book he asked the price, it was sure to be one, two, or three + roubles. The larger books he could not afford at all; he could only look + at them wistfully, fumble their leaves with his finger, turn over the + volumes in his hands, and then replace them. “No, no, that is too dear,” + he would mutter under his breath. “I must go and try somewhere else.” Then + again he would fall to examining copy-books, collections of poems, and + almanacs of the cheaper order. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you buy things like those?” I asked him. “They are such + rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he replied. “See what nice books they are! Yes, they ARE nice + books!” Yet these last words he uttered so lingeringly that I could see he + was ready to weep with vexation at finding the better sorts of books so + expensive. Already a little tear was trickling down his pale cheeks and + red nose. I inquired whether he had much money on him; whereupon the poor + old fellow pulled out his entire stock, wrapped in a piece of dirty + newspaper, and consisting of a few small silver coins, with twenty kopecks + in copper. At once I seized the lot, and, dragging him off to my huckster, + said: “Look here. These eleven volumes of Pushkin are priced at + thirty-two-and-a-half roubles, and I have only thirty roubles. Let us add + to them these two-and-a-half roubles of yours, and buy the books together, + and make them our joint gift.” The old man was overjoyed, and pulled out + his money en masse; whereupon the huckster loaded him with our common + library. Stuffing it into his pockets, as well as filling both arms with + it, he departed homewards with his prize, after giving me his word to + bring me the books privately on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Next day the old man came to see his son, and sat with him, as usual, for + about an hour; after which he visited ourselves, wearing on his face the + most comical, the most mysterious expression conceivable. Smiling broadly + with satisfaction at the thought that he was the possessor of a secret, he + informed me that he had stealthily brought the books to our rooms, and + hidden them in a corner of the kitchen, under Matrena’s care. Next, by a + natural transition, the conversation passed to the coming fête-day; + whereupon, the old man proceeded to hold forth extensively on the subject + of gifts. The further he delved into his thesis, and the more he expounded + it, the clearer could I see that on his mind there was something which he + could not, dared not, divulge. So I waited and kept silent. The mysterious + exaltation, the repressed satisfaction which I had hitherto discerned in + his antics and grimaces and left-eyed winks gradually disappeared, and he + began to grow momentarily more anxious and uneasy. At length he could + contain himself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Barbara Alexievna,” he said timidly. “Listen to what I have got + to say to you. When his birthday is come, do you take TEN of the books, + and give them to him yourself—that is, FOR yourself, as being YOUR + share of the gift. Then I will take the eleventh book, and give it to him + MYSELF, as being my gift. If we do that, you will have a present for him + and I shall have one—both of us alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not want us to present our gifts together, Zachar Petrovitch?” + I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” he replied. “Very well, Barbara Alexievna. Only—only, + I thought that—” + </p> + <p> + The old man broke off in confusion, while his face flushed with the + exertion of thus expressing himself. For a moment or two he sat glued to + his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he went on, “I play the fool too much. I am forever playing the + fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it is wrong to do so. At + home it is often cold, and sometimes there are other troubles as well, and + it all makes me depressed. Well, whenever that happens, I indulge a + little, and occasionally drink too much. Now, Petinka does not like that; + he loses his temper about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds me, and reads + me lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am mending my ways, + and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time past, I have been + saving up to buy him a book—yes, for a long time past I have been + saving up for it, since it is seldom that I have any money, unless Petinka + happens to give me some. He knows that, and, consequently, as soon as ever + he perceives the use to which I have put his money, he will understand + that it is for his sake alone that I have acted.” + </p> + <p> + My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with such + anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what,” I said. “Do you give him all the books.” + </p> + <p> + “ALL?” he ejaculated. “ALL the books?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “As my own gift?” + </p> + <p> +“Yes, as your own gift.” + </p> + <p> + “As my gift alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as your gift alone.” + </p> + <p> + Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to + understand me. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he after reflection, “that certainly would be splendid—certainly + it would be most splendid. But what about yourself, Barbara Alexievna?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall give your son nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried in dismay. “Are you going to give Petinka nothing—do + you WISH to give him nothing?” So put about was the old fellow with what I + had said, that he seemed almost ready to renounce his own proposal if only + I would give his son something. What a kind heart he had! I hastened to + assure him that I should certainly have a gift of some sort ready, since + my one wish was to avoid spoiling his pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Provided that your son is pleased,” I added, “and that you are pleased, I + shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I shall feel as though I + had presented the gift.” + </p> + <p> + This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another couple of + hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept jumping up from his + seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, bestowing stealthy kisses upon + myself, pinching my hands, and making silent grimaces at Anna Thedorovna. + At length, she turned him out of the house. In short, his transports of + joy exceeded anything that I had yet beheld. + </p> + <p> + On the festal day he arrived exactly at eleven o’clock, direct from Mass. + He was dressed in a carefully mended frockcoat, a new waistcoat, and a + pair of new shoes, while in his arms he carried our pile of books. Next we + all sat down to coffee (the day being Sunday) in Anna Thedorovna’s + parlour. The old man led off the meal by saying that Pushkin was a + magnificent poet. Thereafter, with a return to shamefacedness and + confusion, he passed suddenly to the statement that a man ought to conduct + himself properly; that, should he not do so, it might be taken as a sign + that he was in some way overindulging himself; and that evil tendencies of + this sort led to the man’s ruin and degradation. Then the orator sketched + for our benefit some terrible instances of such incontinence, and + concluded by informing us that for some time past he had been mending his + own ways, and conducting himself in exemplary fashion, for the reason that + he had perceived the justice of his son’s precepts, and had laid them to + heart so well that he, the father, had really changed for the better: in + proof whereof, he now begged to present to the said son some books for + which he had long been setting aside his savings. + </p> + <p> + As I listened to the old man I could not help laughing and crying in a + breath. Certainly he knew how to lie when the occasion required! The books + were transferred to his son’s room, and arranged upon a shelf, where + Pokrovski at once guessed the truth about them. Then the old man was + invited to dinner and we all spent a merry day together at cards and + forfeits. Sasha was full of life, and I rivalled her, while Pokrovski paid + me numerous attentions, and kept seeking an occasion to speak to me alone. + But to allow this to happen I refused. Yes, taken all in all, it was the + happiest day that I had known for four years. + </p> + <p> + But now only grievous, painful memories come to my recollection, for I + must enter upon the story of my darker experiences. It may be that that is + why my pen begins to move more slowly, and seems as though it were going + altogether to refuse to write. The same reason may account for my having + undertaken so lovingly and enthusiastically a recounting of even the + smallest details of my younger, happier days. But alas! those days did not + last long, and were succeeded by a period of black sorrow which will close + only God knows when! + </p> + <p> + My misfortunes began with the illness and death of Pokrovski, who was + taken worse two months after what I have last recorded in these memoirs. + During those two months he worked hard to procure himself a livelihood + since hitherto he had had no assured position. Like all consumptives, he + never—not even up to his last moment—altogether abandoned the + hope of being able to enjoy a long life. A post as tutor fell in his way, + but he had never liked the profession; while for him to become a civil + servant was out of the question, owing to his weak state of health. + Moreover, in the latter capacity he would have had to have waited a long + time for his first instalment of salary. Again, he always looked at the + darker side of things, for his character was gradually being warped, and + his health undermined by his illness, though he never noticed it. Then + autumn came on, and daily he went out to business—that is to say, to + apply for and to canvass for posts—clad only in a light jacket; with + the result that, after repeated soakings with rain, he had to take to his + bed, and never again left it. He died in mid-autumn at the close of the + month of October. + </p> + <p> + Throughout his illness I scarcely ever left his room, but waited on him + hand and foot. Often he could not sleep for several nights at a time. + Often, too, he was unconscious, or else in a delirium; and at such times + he would talk of all sorts of things—of his work, of his books, of + his father, of myself. At such times I learned much which I had not + hitherto known or divined about his affairs. During the early part of his + illness everyone in the house looked askance at me, and Anna Thedorovna + would nod her head in a meaning manner; but, I always looked them straight + in the face, and gradually they ceased to take any notice of my concern + for Pokrovski. At all events my mother ceased to trouble her head about + it. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Pokrovski would know who I was, but not often, for more usually + he was unconscious. Sometimes, too, he would talk all night with some + unknown person, in dim, mysterious language that caused his gasping voice + to echo hoarsely through the narrow room as through a sepulchre; and at + such times, I found the situation a strange one. During his last night he + was especially lightheaded, for then he was in terrible agony, and kept + rambling in his speech until my soul was torn with pity. Everyone in the + house was alarmed, and Anna Thedorovna fell to praying that God might soon + take him. When the doctor had been summoned, the verdict was that the + patient would die with the morning. + </p> + <p> + That night the elder Pokrovski spent in the corridor, at the door of his + son’s room. Though given a mattress to lie upon, he spent his time in + running in and out of the apartment. So broken with grief was he that he + presented a dreadful spectacle, and appeared to have lost both perception + and feeling. His head trembled with agony, and his body quivered from head + to foot as at times he murmured to himself something which he appeared to + be debating. Every moment I expected to see him go out of his mind. Just + before dawn he succumbed to the stress of mental agony, and fell asleep on + his mattress like a man who has been beaten; but by eight o’clock the son + was at the point of death, and I ran to wake the father. The dying man was + quite conscious, and bid us all farewell. Somehow I could not weep, though + my heart seemed to be breaking. + </p> + <p> + The last moments were the most harassing and heartbreaking of all. For + some time past Pokrovski had been asking for something with his failing + tongue, but I had been unable to distinguish his words. Yet my heart had + been bursting with grief. Then for an hour he had lain quieter, except + that he had looked sadly in my direction, and striven to make some sign + with his death-cold hands. At last he again essayed his piteous request in + a hoarse, deep voice, but the words issued in so many inarticulate sounds, + and once more I failed to divine his meaning. By turns I brought each + member of the household to his bedside, and gave him something to drink, + but he only shook his head sorrowfully. Finally, I understood what it was + he wanted. He was asking me to draw aside the curtain from the window, and + to open the casements. Probably he wished to take his last look at the + daylight and the sun and all God’s world. I pulled back the curtain, but + the opening day was as dull and mournful—looking as though it had + been the fast-flickering life of the poor invalid. Of sunshine there was + none. Clouds overlaid the sky as with a shroud of mist, and everything + looked sad, rainy, and threatening under a fine drizzle which was beating + against the window-panes, and streaking their dull, dark surfaces with + runlets of cold, dirty moisture. Only a scanty modicum of daylight entered + to war with the trembling rays of the ikon lamp. The dying man threw me a + wistful look, and nodded. The next moment he had passed away. + </p> + <p> + The funeral was arranged for by Anna Thedorovna. A plain coffin was + bought, and a broken-down hearse hired; while, as security for this + outlay, she seized the dead man’s books and other articles. Nevertheless, + the old man disputed the books with her, and, raising an uproar, carried + off as many of them as he could—stuffing his pockets full, and even + filling his hat. Indeed, he spent the next three days with them thus, and + refused to let them leave his sight even when it was time for him to go to + church. Throughout he acted like a man bereft of sense and memory. With + quaint assiduity he busied himself about the bier—now straightening + the candlestick on the dead man’s breast, now snuffing and lighting the + other candles. Clearly his thoughts were powerless to remain long fixed on + any subject. Neither my mother nor Anna Thedorovna were present at the + requiem, for the former was ill and the latter was at loggerheads with the + old man. Only myself and the father were there. During the service a sort + of panic, a sort of premonition of the future, came over me, and I could + hardly hold myself upright. At length the coffin had received its burden + and was screwed down; after which the bearers placed it upon a bier, and + set out. I accompanied the cortège only to the end of the street. Here the + driver broke into a trot, and the old man started to run behind the hearse—sobbing + loudly, but with the motion of his running ever and anon causing the sobs + to quaver and become broken off. Next he lost his hat, the poor old + fellow, yet would not stop to pick it up, even though the rain was beating + upon his head, and a wind was rising and the sleet kept stinging and + lashing his face. It seemed as though he were impervious to the cruel + elements as he ran from one side of the hearse to the other—the + skirts of his old greatcoat flapping about him like a pair of wings. From + every pocket of the garment protruded books, while in his hand he carried + a specially large volume, which he hugged closely to his breast. The + passers-by uncovered their heads and crossed themselves as the cortège + passed, and some of them, having done so, remained staring in amazement at + the poor old man. Every now and then a book would slip from one of his + pockets and fall into the mud; whereupon somebody, stopping him, would + direct his attention to his loss, and he would stop, pick up the book, and + again set off in pursuit of the hearse. At the corner of the street he was + joined by a ragged old woman; until at length the hearse turned a corner, + and became hidden from my eyes. Then I went home, and threw myself, in a + transport of grief, upon my mother’s breast—clasping her in my arms, + kissing her amid a storm of sobs and tears, and clinging to her form as + though in my embraces I were holding my last friend on earth, that I might + preserve her from death. Yet already death was standing over her.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 11th + </h2> + <p> + How I thank you for our walk to the Islands yesterday, Makar Alexievitch! + How fresh and pleasant, how full of verdure, was everything! And I had not + seen anything green for such a long time! During my illness I used to + think that I should never get better, that I was certainly going to die. + Judge, then, how I felt yesterday! True, I may have seemed to you a little + sad, and you must not be angry with me for that. Happy and light-hearted + though I was, there were moments, even at the height of my felicity, when, + for some unknown reason, depression came sweeping over my soul. I kept + weeping about trifles, yet could not say why I was grieved. The truth is + that I am unwell—so much so, that I look at everything from the + gloomy point of view. The pale, clear sky, the setting sun, the evening + stillness—ah, somehow I felt disposed to grieve and feel hurt at + these things; my heart seemed to be over-charged, and to be calling for + tears to relieve it. But why should I write this to you? It is difficult + for my heart to express itself; still more difficult for it to forego + self-expression. Yet possibly you may understand me. Tears and + laughter!... How good you are, Makar Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked + into my eyes as though you could read in them all that I was feeling—as + though you were rejoicing at my happiness. Whether it were a group of + shrubs or an alleyway or a vista of water that we were passing, you would + halt before me, and stand gazing at my face as though you were showing me + possessions of your own. It told me how kind is your nature, and I love + you for it. Today I am again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and + took a chill. Thedora also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do not forget + me. Come and see me as often as you can.—Your own, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 12th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—I had supposed that you meant to + describe our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there has + arrived only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must say that, + little though you have put into your letter, that little is not expressed + with rare beauty and grace. Nature, your descriptions of rural scenes, + your analysis of your own feelings—the whole is beautifully written. + Alas, I have no such talent! Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing + comes of it—I might as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I + know from experience. + </p> + <p> + You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not harm my + fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness of God (as + expressed in nature’s handiwork), and so on. It may all be so, my dearest + one—it may all be exactly as you say. Indeed, I think that you are + right. But if so, the reason is that when one reads such a letter as you + have just sent me, one’s heart involuntarily softens, and affords entrance + to thoughts of a graver and weightier order. Listen, my darling; I have + something to tell you, my beloved one. + </p> + <p> + I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and first + entered the service—though I shall soon have completed my thirtieth + year of official activity. I may say that at first I was much pleased with + my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I grew in mind, and fell to studying + my fellow-men. Likewise I may say that I lived an upright life—so + much so that at last I incurred persecution. This you may not believe, but + it is true. To think that men so cruel should exist! For though, dearest + one, I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like everyone else. + Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I tell you what these + cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell it you—and all + because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured disposition! + Things began with “this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your fault.” Then + it went on to “I need hardly say that the fault is wholly Makar + Alexievitch’s.” Finally it became “OF COURSE Makar Alexievitch is to + blame.” Do you see the sequence of things, my darling? Every mistake was + attributed to me, until “Makar Alexievitch” became a byword in our + department. Also, while making of me a proverb, these fellows could not + give me a smile or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with my + uniform, with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to their + taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from that day to + this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can grow accustomed to + anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable disposition, like all men + of small stature)—yet why should these things be? Whom have I + harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted? Whom have I ever traduced to his + superiors? No, the fault is that more than once I have asked for an + increase of salary. But have I ever CABALLED for it? No, you would be + wrong in thinking so, my dearest one. HOW could I ever have done so? You + yourself have had many opportunities of seeing how incapable I am of + deceit or chicanery. + Why then, should this have fallen to my lot?... However, since you think + me worthy of respect, my darling, I do not care, for you are far and away + the best person in the world.... What do you consider to be the greatest + social virtue? In private conversation Evstafi Ivanovitch once told me + that the greatest social virtue might be considered to be an ability to + get money to spend. Also, my comrades used jestingly (yes, I know only + jestingly) to propound the ethical maxim that a man ought never to let + himself become a burden upon anyone. Well, I am a burden upon no one. It + is my own crust of bread that I eat; and though that crust is but a poor + one, and sometimes actually a maggoty one, it has at least been EARNED, + and therefore, is being put to a right and lawful use. What therefore, + ought I to do? I know that I can earn but little by my labours as a + copyist; yet even of that little I am proud, for it has entailed WORK, and + has wrung sweat from my brow. What harm is there in being a copyist? “He + is only an amanuensis,” people say of me. But what is there so disgraceful + in that? My writing is at least legible, neat, and pleasant to look upon—and + his Excellency is satisfied with it. Indeed, I transcribe many important + documents. At the same time, I know that my writing lacks STYLE, which is + why I have never risen in the service. Even to you, my dear one, I write + simply and without tricks, but just as a thought may happen to enter my + head. Yes, I know all this; but if everyone were to become a fine writer, + who would there be left to act as copyists?... Whatsoever questions I may + put to you in my letters, dearest, I pray you to answer them. I am sure + that you need me, that I can be of use to you; and, since that is so, I + must not allow myself to be distracted by any trifle. Even if I be likened + to a rat, I do not care, provided that that particular rat be wanted by + you, and be of use in the world, and be retained in its position, and + receive its reward. But what a rat it is! + </p> + <p> + Enough of this, dearest one. I ought not to have spoken of it, but I lost + my temper. Still, it is pleasant to speak the truth sometimes. Goodbye, my + own, my darling, my sweet little comforter! I will come to you soon—yes, + I will certainly come to you. Until I do so, do not fret yourself. With me + I shall be bringing a book. Once more goodbye.—Your heartfelt + well-wisher, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 20th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—I am writing to you post-haste—I + am hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do you suppose + is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity has occurred for you + to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells me that a retired civil servant + of her acquaintance has a uniform to sell—one cut to regulation + pattern and in good repair, as well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO + not tell me that you have not got the money, for I know from your own lips + that you HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See what + terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful—they are + patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That this is so, + I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me about it. So listen to + me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it for MY sake. Do it to show that + you really love me. + </p> + <p> + You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar + Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that you should + spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money, upon me? How you + love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I do not need it, that such + expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I am CERTAIN, that you love me—therefore, + it is useless to remind me of the fact with gifts. Nor do I like receiving + them, since I know how much they must have cost you. No—put your + money to a better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to do so. Also, you ask me + to send you a continuation of my memoirs—to conclude them. But I + know not how I contrived even to write as much of them as I did; and now I + have not the strength to write further of my past, nor the desire to give + it a single thought. Such recollections are terrible to me. Most difficult + of all is it for me to speak of my poor mother, who left her destitute + daughter a prey to villains. My heart runs blood whenever I think of it; + it is so fresh in my memory that I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor + rest for its insistence, although a year has now elapsed since the events + took place. But all this you know. + </p> + <p> + Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She accuses + me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made against herself with + regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps sending for me, and telling me + that I have taken to evil courses, but that if I will return to her, she + will smooth over matters with Bwikov, and force him to confess his fault. + Also, she says that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them all! I + am quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to me + reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman though you + may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other people I do not wish + to know, and would gladly forget if I could.... What are they wanting with + me now? Thedora declares it all to be a trick, and says that in time they + will leave me alone. God grant it be so! + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 21st. + </h2> + <p> + MY OWN, MY DARLING,—I wish to write to you, yet know not where to + begin. Things are as strange as though we were actually living together. + Also I would add that never in my life have I passed such happy days as I + am spending at present. ‘Tis as though God had blessed me with a home and + a family of my own! Yes, you are my little daughter, beloved. But why + mention the four sorry roubles that I sent you? You needed them; I know + that from Thedora herself, and it will always be a particular pleasure to + me to gratify you in anything. It will always be my one happiness in life. + Pray, therefore, leave me that happiness, and do not seek to cross me in + it. Things are not as you suppose. I have now reached the sunshine since, + in the first place, I am living so close to you as almost to be with you + (which is a great consolation to my mind), while, in the second place, a + neighbour of mine named Rataziaev (the retired official who gives the + literary parties) has today invited me to tea. This evening, therefore, + there will be a gathering at which we shall discuss literature! Think of + that my darling! Well, goodbye now. I have written this without any + definite aim in my mind, but solely to assure you of my welfare. Through + Theresa I have received your message that you need an embroidered cloak to + wear, so I will go and purchase one. Yes, tomorrow I mean to purchase that + embroidered cloak, and so give myself the pleasure of having satisfied one + of your wants. I know where to go for such a garment. For the time being I + remain your sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 22nd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I have to tell you that a sad event + has happened in this house—an event to excite one’s utmost pity. + This morning, about five o’clock, one of Gorshkov’s children died of + scarlatina, or something of the kind. I have been to pay the parents a + visit of condolence, and found them living in the direst poverty and + disorder. Nor is that surprising, seeing that the family lives in a single + room, with only a screen to divide it for decency’s sake. Already the + coffin was standing in their midst—a plain but decent shell which + had been bought ready-made. The child, they told me, had been a boy of + nine, and full of promise. What a pitiful spectacle! Though not weeping, + the mother, poor woman, looked broken with grief. After all, to have one + burden the less on their shoulders may prove a relief, though there are + still two children left—a babe at the breast and a little girl of + six! How painful to see these suffering children, and to be unable to help + them! The father, clad in an old, dirty frockcoat, was seated on a + dilapidated chair. Down his cheeks there were coursing tears—though + less through grief than owing to a long-standing affliction of the eyes. + He was so thin, too! Always he reddens in the face when he is addressed, + and becomes too confused to answer. A little girl, his daughter, was + leaning against the coffin—her face looking so worn and thoughtful, + poor mite! Do you know, I cannot bear to see a child look thoughtful. On + the floor there lay a rag doll, but she was not playing with it as, + motionless, she stood there with her finger to her lips. Even a bon-bon + which the landlady had given her she was not eating. Is it not all sad, + sad, Barbara? + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 25th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—I return you your book. In my opinion + it is a worthless one, and I would rather not have it in my possession. + Why do you save up your money to buy such trash? Except in jest, do such + books really please you? However, you have now promised to send me + something else to read. I will share the cost of it. Now, farewell until + we meet again. I have nothing more to say. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 26th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAR LITTLE BARBARA—To tell you the truth, I myself have not read + the book of which you speak. That is to say, though I began to read it, I + soon saw that it was nonsense, and written only to make people laugh. + “However,” thought I, “it is at least a CHEERFUL work, and so may please + Barbara.” That is why I sent it you. + </p> + <p> + Rataziaev has now promised to give me something really literary to read; + so you shall soon have your book, my darling. He is a man who reflects; he + is a clever fellow, as well as himself a writer—such a writer! His + pen glides along with ease, and in such a style (even when he is writing + the most ordinary, the most insignificant of articles) that I have often + remarked upon the fact, both to Phaldoni and to Theresa. Often, too, I go + to spend an evening with him. He reads aloud to us until five o’clock in + the morning, and we listen to him. It is a revelation of things rather + than a reading. It is charming, it is like a bouquet of flowers—there + is a bouquet of flowers in every line of each page. Besides, he is such an + approachable, courteous, kind-hearted fellow! What am I compared with him? + Why, nothing, simply nothing! He is a man of reputation, whereas I—well, + I do not exist at all. Yet he condescends to my level. At this very moment + I am copying out a document for him. But you must not think that he finds + any DIFFICULTY in condescending to me, who am only a copyist. No, you must + not believe the base gossip that you may hear. I do copying work for him + simply in order to please myself, as well as that he may notice me—a + thing that always gives me pleasure. I appreciate the delicacy of his + position. He is a good—a very good—man, and an unapproachable + writer. + </p> + <p> + What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara—what a splendid thing! + This I learnt before I had known Rataziaev even for three days. It + strengthens and instructs the heart of man.... No matter what there be in + the world, you will find it all written down in Rataziaev’s works. And so + well written down, too! Literature is a sort of picture—a sort of + picture or mirror. It connotes at once passion, expression, fine + criticism, good learning, and a document. Yes, I have learned this from + Rataziaev himself. I can assure you, Barbara, that if only you could be + sitting among us, and listening to the talk (while, with the rest of us, + you smoked a pipe), and were to hear those present begin to argue and + dispute concerning different matters, you would feel of as little account + among them as I do; for I myself figure there only as a blockhead, and + feel ashamed, since it takes me a whole evening to think of a single word + to interpolate—and even then the word will not come! In a case like + that a man regrets that, as the proverb has it, he should have reached + man’s estate but not man’s understanding.... What do I do in my spare + time? I sleep like a fool, though I would far rather be occupied with + something else—say, with eating or writing, since the one is useful + to oneself, and the other is beneficial to one’s fellows. You should see + how much money these fellows contrive to save! How much, for instance, + does not Rataziaev lay by? A few days’ writing, I am told, can earn him as + much as three hundred roubles! Indeed, if a man be a writer of short + stories or anything else that is interesting, he can sometimes pocket five + hundred roubles, or a thousand, at a time! Think of it, Barbara! Rataziaev + has by him a small manuscript of verses, and for it he is asking—what + do you think? Seven thousand roubles! Why, one could buy a whole house for + that sum! He has even refused five thousand for a manuscript, and on that + occasion I reasoned with him, and advised him to accept the five thousand. + But it was of no use. “For,” said he, “they will soon offer me seven + thousand,” and kept to his point, for he is a man of some determination. + </p> + <p> + Suppose, now, that I were to give you an extract from “Passion in Italy” + (as another work of his is called). Read this, dearest Barbara, and judge + for yourself: + </p> + <p> + “Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had welled until + it had reached boiling point. + </p> + <p> + “‘Countess,’ he cried, ‘do you know how terrible is this adoration of + mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have not deceived me—I + love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a madman might! All the blood that + is in your husband’s body could never quench the furious, surging rapture + that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the all-destroying, + infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! Oh Zinaida, my + Zinaida!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Vladimir!’ she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “‘My Zinaida!’ cried the enraptured Smileski once more. + </p> + <p> + “His breath was coming in sharp, broken pants. The lamp of love was + burning brightly on the altar of passion, and searing the hearts of the + two unfortunate sufferers. + </p> + <p> + “‘Vladimir!’ again she whispered in her intoxication, while her bosom + heaved, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. + </p> + <p> + “Thus was a new and dread union consummated. + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour later the aged Count entered his wife’s boudoir. + </p> + <p> + “‘How now, my love?’ said he. ‘Surely it is for some welcome guest beyond + the common that you have had the samovar [Tea-urn.] thus prepared?’ And he + smote her lightly on the cheek.” + </p> + <p> + What think you of THAT, Barbara? True, it is a little too outspoken—there + can be no doubt of that; yet how grand it is, how splendid! With your + permission I will also quote you an extract from Rataziaev’s story, Ermak + and Zuleika: + </p> + <p> + “‘You love me, Zuleika? Say again that you love me, you love me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I DO love you, Ermak,’ whispered Zuleika. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then by heaven and earth I thank you! By heaven and earth you have made + me happy! You have given me all, all that my tortured soul has for + immemorial years been seeking! ‘Tis for this that you have led me hither, + my guiding star—‘tis for this that you have conducted me to the + Girdle of Stone! To all the world will I now show my Zuleika, and no man, + demon or monster of Hell, shall bid me nay! Oh, if men would but + understand the mysterious passions of her tender heart, and see the poem + which lurks in each of her little tears! Suffer me to dry those tears with + my kisses! Suffer me to drink of those heavenly drops, Oh being who art + not of this earth!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ermak,’ said Zuleika, ‘the world is cruel, and men are unjust. But LET + them drive us from their midst—let them judge us, my beloved Ermak! + What has a poor maiden who was reared amid the snows of Siberia to do with + their cold, icy, self-sufficient world? Men cannot understand me, my + darling, my sweetheart.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Is that so? Then shall the sword of the Cossacks sing and whistle over + their heads!’ cried Ermak with a furious look in his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + What must Ermak have felt when he learnt that his Zuleika had been + murdered, Barbara?—that, taking advantages of the cover of night, + the blind old Kouchoum had, in Ermak’s absence, broken into the latter’s + tent, and stabbed his own daughter in mistake for the man who had robbed + him of sceptre and crown? + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh that I had a stone whereon to whet my sword!’ cried Ermak in the + madness of his wrath as he strove to sharpen his steel blade upon the + enchanted rock. ‘I would have his blood, his blood! I would tear him limb + from limb, the villain!’” + </p> + <p> + Then Ermak, unable to survive the loss of his Zuleika, throws himself into + the Irtisch, and the tale comes to an end. + </p> + <p> + Here, again, is another short extract—this time written in a more + comical vein, to make people laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Ivan Prokofievitch Zheltopuzh? He is the man who took a piece + out of Prokofi Ivanovitch’s leg. Ivan’s character is one of the rugged + order, and therefore, one that is rather lacking in virtue. Yet he has a + passionate relish for radishes and honey. Once he also possessed a friend + named Pelagea Antonovna. Do you know Pelagea Antonovna? She is the woman + who always puts on her petticoat wrong side outwards.” + </p> + <p> + What humour, Barbara—what purest humour! We rocked with laughter + when he read it aloud to us. Yes, that is the kind of man he is. Possibly + the passage is a trifle over-frolicsome, but at least it is harmless, and + contains no freethought or liberal ideas. In passing, I may say that + Rataziaev is not only a supreme writer, but also a man of upright life—which + is more than can be said for most writers. + </p> + <p> + What, do you think, is an idea that sometimes enters my head? In fact, + what if I myself were to write something? How if suddenly a book were to + make its appearance in the world bearing the title of “The Poetical Works + of Makar Dievushkin”? What THEN, my angel? How should you view, should you + receive, such an event? I may say of myself that never, after my book had + appeared, should I have the hardihood to show my face on the Nevski + Prospect; for would it not be too dreadful to hear every one saying, “Here + comes the literateur and poet, Dievushkin—yes, it is Dievushkin + himself.” What, in such a case, should I do with my feet (for I may tell + you that almost always my shoes are patched, or have just been resoled, + and therefore look anything but becoming)? To think that the great writer + Dievushkin should walk about in patched footgear! If a duchess or a + countess should recognise me, what would she say, poor woman? Perhaps, + though, she would not notice my shoes at all, since it may reasonably be + supposed that countesses do not greatly occupy themselves with footgear, + especially with the footgear of civil service officials (footgear may + differ from footgear, it must be remembered). Besides, I should find that + the countess had heard all about me, for my friends would have betrayed me + to her—Rataziaev among the first of them, seeing that he often goes + to visit Countess V., and practically lives at her house. She is said to + be a woman of great intellect and wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev! + </p> + <p> + But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse myself and to + divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This is a long epistle that I + am sending you, but the reason is that today I feel in good spirits after + dining at Rataziaev’s. There I came across a novel which I hardly know how + to describe to you. Do not think the worse of me on that account, even + though I bring you another book instead (for I certainly mean to bring + one). The novel in question was one of Paul de Kock’s, and not a novel for + you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your eyes. In fact, it is + said to have greatly offended the critics of St. Petersburg. Also, I am + sending you a pound of bonbons—bought specially for yourself. Each + time that you eat one, beloved, remember the sender. Only, do not bite the + iced ones, but suck them gently, lest they make your teeth ache. Perhaps, + too, you like comfits? Well, write and tell me if it is so. Goodbye, + goodbye. Christ watch over you, my darling!—Always your faithful + friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—Thedora tells me that, should I wish, + there are some people who will be glad to help me by obtaining me an + excellent post as governess in a certain house. What think you, my friend? + Shall I go or not? Of course, I should then cease to be a burden to you, + and the post appears to be a comfortable one. On the other hand, the idea + of entering a strange house appals me. The people in it are landed gentry, + and they will begin to ask me questions, and to busy themselves about me. + What answers shall I then return? You see, I am now so unused to society—so + shy! I like to live in a corner to which I have long grown used. Yes, the + place with which one is familiar is always the best. Even if for companion + one has but sorrow, that place will still be the best.... God alone knows + what duties the post will entail. Perhaps I shall merely be required to + act as nursemaid; and in any case, I hear that the governess there has + been changed three times in two years. For God’s sake, Makar Alexievitch, + advise me whether to go or not. Why do you never come near me now? Do let + my eyes have an occasional sight of you. Mass on Sundays is almost the + only time when we see one another. How retiring you have become! So also + have I, even though, in a way, I am your kinswoman. You must have ceased + to love me, Makar Alexievitch. I spend many a weary hour because of it. + Sometimes, when dusk is falling, I find myself lonely—oh, so lonely! + Thedora has gone out somewhere, and I sit here and think, and think, and + think. I remember all the past, its joys and its sorrows. It passes before + my eyes in detail, it glimmers at me as out of a mist; and as it does so, + well-known faces appear, which seem actually to be present with me in this + room! Most frequently of all, I see my mother. Ah, the dreams that come to + me! I feel that my health is breaking, so weak am I. When this morning I + arose, sickness took me until I vomited and vomited. Yes, I feel, I know, + that death is approaching. Who will bury me when it has come? Who will + visit my tomb? Who will sorrow for me? And now it is in a strange place, + in the house of a stranger, that I may have to die! Yes, in a corner which + I do not know!... My God, how sad a thing is life!... Why do you send me + comfits to eat? Whence do you get the money to buy them? Ah, for God’s + sake keep the money, keep the money. Thedora has sold a carpet which I + have made. She got fifty roubles for it, which is very good—I had + expected less. Of the fifty roubles I shall give Thedora three, and with + the remainder make myself a plain, warm dress. Also, I am going to make + you a waistcoat—to make it myself, and out of good material. + </p> + <p> + Also, Thedora has brought me a book—“The Stories of Bielkin”—which + I will forward you, if you would care to read it. Only, do not soil it, + nor yet retain it, for it does not belong to me. It is by Pushkin. Two + years ago I read these stories with my mother, and it would hurt me to + read them again. If you yourself have any books, pray let me have them—so + long as they have not been obtained from Rataziaev. Probably he will be + giving you one of his own works when he has had one printed. How is it + that his compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I think them + SUCH rubbish! + —Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! When feeling sad, I + always like to talk of something, for it acts upon me like medicine—I + begin to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what is preying upon my + heart. Good bye, good-bye, my friend—Your own + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—Away with melancholy! Really, beloved, + you ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you allow such thoughts to + enter your head? Really and truly you are quite well; really and truly you + are, my darling. Why, you are blooming—simply blooming. True, I see + a certain touch of pallor in your face, but still you are blooming. A fig + for dreams and visions! Yes, for shame, dearest! Drive away those fancies; + try to despise them. Why do I sleep so well? Why am I never ailing? Look + at ME, beloved. I live well, I sleep peacefully, I retain my health, I can + ruffle it with my juniors. In fact, it is a pleasure to see me. Come, + come, then, sweetheart! Let us have no more of this. I know that that + little head of yours is capable of any fancy—that all too easily you + take to dreaming and repining; but for my sake, cease to do so. + </p> + <p> + Are you to go to these people, you ask me? Never! No, no, again no! How + could you think of doing such a thing as taking a journey? I will not + allow it—I intend to combat your intention with all my might. I will + sell my frockcoat, and walk the streets in my shirt sleeves, rather than + let you be in want. But no, Barbara. I know you, I know you. This is + merely a trick, merely a trick. And probably Thedora alone is to blame for + it. She appears to be a foolish old woman, and to be able to persuade you + to do anything. Do not believe her, my dearest. I am sure that you know + what is what, as well as SHE does. Eh, sweetheart? She is a stupid, + quarrelsome, rubbish-talking old woman who brought her late husband to the + grave. Probably she has been plaguing you as much as she did him. No, no, + dearest; you must not take this step. What should I do then? What would + there be left for ME to do? Pray put the idea out of your head. What is it + you lack here? I cannot feel sufficiently overjoyed to be near you, while, + for your part, you love me well, and can live your life here as quietly as + you wish. Read or sew, whichever you like—or read and do not sew. + Only, do not desert me. Try, yourself, to imagine how things would seem + after you had gone. Here am I sending you books, and later we will go for + a walk. Come, come, then, my Barbara! Summon to your aid your reason, and + cease to babble of trifles. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I can I will come and see you, and then you shall tell me the + whole story. This will not do, sweetheart; this certainly will not do. Of + course, I know that I am not an educated man, and have received but a + sorry schooling, and have had no inclination for it, and think too much of + Rataziaev, if you will; but he is my friend, and therefore, I must put in + a word or two for him. Yes, he is a splendid writer. Again and again I + assert that he writes magnificently. I do not agree with you about his + works, and never shall. He writes too ornately, too laconically, with too + great a wealth of imagery and imagination. Perhaps you have read him + without insight, Barbara? Or perhaps you were out of spirits at the time, + or angry with Thedora about something, or worried about some mischance? + Ah, but you should read him sympathetically, and, best of all, at a time + when you are feeling happy and contented and pleasantly disposed—for + instance, when you have a bonbon or two in your mouth. Yes, that is the + way to read Rataziaev. I do not dispute (indeed, who would do so?) that + better writers than he exist—even far better; but they are good, and + he is good too—they write well, and he writes well. It is chiefly + for his own sake that he writes, and he is to be approved for so doing. + </p> + <p> + Now goodbye, dearest. More I cannot write, for I must hurry away to + business. Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you!—Your + faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S—Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it through, + this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—No, no, my friend, I must not go on living + near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come to the conclusion + that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so good a post. I should at + least have an assured crust of bread; I might at least set to work to earn + my employers’ favour, and even try to change my character if required to + do so. Of course it is a sad and sorry thing to have to live among + strangers, and to be forced to seek their patronage, and to conceal and + constrain one’s own personality—but God will help me. I must not + remain forever a recluse, for similar chances have come my way before. I + remember how, when a little girl at school, I used to go home on Sundays + and spend the time in frisking and dancing about. Sometimes my mother + would chide me for so doing, but I did not care, for my heart was too + joyous, and my spirits too buoyant, for that. Yet as the evening of Sunday + came on, a sadness as of death would overtake me, for at nine o’clock I + had to return to school, where everything was cold and strange and severe—where + the governesses, on Mondays, lost their tempers, and nipped my ears, and + made me cry. On such occasions I would retire to a corner and weep alone; + concealing my tears lest I should be called lazy. Yet it was not because I + had to study that I used to weep, and in time I grew more used to things, + and, after my schooldays were over, shed tears only when I was parting + with friends... + It is not right for me to live in dependence upon you. The thought + tortures me. I tell you this frankly, for the reason that frankness with + you has become a habit. Cannot I see that daily, at earliest dawn, Thedora + rises to do washing and scrubbing, and remains working at it until late at + night, even though her poor old bones must be aching for want of rest? + Cannot I also see that YOU are ruining yourself for me, and hoarding your + last kopeck that you may spend it on my behalf? You ought not so to act, + my friend, even though you write that you would rather sell your all than + let me want for anything. I believe in you, my friend—I entirely + believe in your good heart; but, you say that to me now (when, perhaps, + you have received some unexpected sum or gratuity) and there is still the + future to be thought of. You yourself know that I am always ailing—that + I cannot work as you do, glad though I should be of any work if I could + get it; so what else is there for me to do? To sit and repine as I watch + you and Thedora? But how would that be of any use to you? AM I necessary + to you, comrade of mine? HAVE I ever done you any good? Though I am bound + to you with my whole soul, and love you dearly and strongly and + wholeheartedly, a bitter fate has ordained that that love should be all + that I have to give—that I should be unable, by creating for you + subsistence, to repay you for all your kindness. Do not, therefore, detain + me longer, but think the matter out, and give me your opinion on it. In + expectation of which I remain your sweetheart, + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 1st. + </h2> + <p> + Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!—What you say is sheer rubbish. Stay here, + rather, and put such thoughts out of your head. None of what you suppose + is true. I can see for myself that it is not. Whatsoever you lack here, + you have but to ask me for it. Here you love and are loved, and we might + easily be happy and contented together. What could you want more? What + have you to do with strangers? You cannot possibly know what strangers are + like. I know it, though, and could have told you if you had asked me. + There is a stranger whom I know, and whose bread I have eaten. He is a + cruel man, Barbara—a man so bad that he would be unworthy of your + little heart, and would soon tear it to pieces with his railings and + reproaches and black looks. On the other hand, you are safe and well here—you + are as safe as though you were sheltered in a nest. Besides, you would, as + it were, leave me with my head gone. For what should I have to do when you + were gone? What could I, an old man, find to do? Are you not necessary to + me? Are you not useful to me? Eh? Surely you do not think that you are not + useful? You are of great use to me, Barbara, for you exercise a beneficial + influence upon my life. Even at this moment, as I think of you, I feel + cheered, for always I can write letters to you, and put into them what I + am feeling, and receive from you detailed answers.... I have bought you a + wardrobe, and also procured you a bonnet; so you see that you have only to + give me a commission for it to be executed.... No—in what way are + you not useful? What should I do if I were deserted in my old age? What + would become of me? Perhaps you never thought of that, Barbara—perhaps + you never said to yourself, “How could HE get on without me?” You see, I + have grown so accustomed to you. What else would it end in, if you were to + go away? Why, in my hiking to the Neva’s bank and doing away with myself. + Ah, Barbara, darling, I can see that you want me to be taken away to the + Volkovo Cemetery in a broken-down old hearse, with some poor outcast of + the streets to accompany my coffin as chief mourner, and the gravediggers + to heap my body with clay, and depart and leave me there. How wrong of + you, how wrong of you, my beloved! Yes, by heavens, how wrong of you! I am + returning you your book, little friend; and, if you were to ask of me my + opinion of it, I should say that never before in my life had I read a book + so splendid. I keep wondering how I have hitherto contrived to remain such + an owl. For what have I ever done? From what wilds did I spring into + existence? I KNOW nothing—I know simply NOTHING. My ignorance is + complete. Frankly, I am not an educated man, for until now I have read + scarcely a single book—only “A Portrait of Man” (a clever enough + work in its way), “The Boy Who Could Play Many Tunes Upon Bells”, and + “Ivik’s Storks”. That is all. But now I have also read “The Station + Overseer” in your little volume; and it is wonderful to think that one may + live and yet be ignorant of the fact that under one’s very nose there may + be a book in which one’s whole life is described as in a picture. Never + should I have guessed that, as soon as ever one begins to read such a + book, it sets one on both to remember and to consider and to foretell + events. Another reason why I liked this book so much is that, though, in + the case of other works (however clever they be), one may read them, yet + remember not a word of them (for I am a man naturally dull of + comprehension, and unable to read works of any great importance),—although, + as I say, one may read such works, one reads such a book as YOURS as + easily as though it had been written by oneself, and had taken possession + of one’s heart, and turned it inside out for inspection, and were + describing it in detail as a matter of perfect simplicity. Why, I might + almost have written the book myself! Why not, indeed? I can feel just as + the people in the book do, and find myself in positions precisely similar + to those of, say, the character Samson Virin. In fact, how many + good-hearted wretches like Virin are there not walking about amongst us? + How easily, too, it is all described! I assure you, my darling, that I + almost shed tears when I read that Virin so took to drink as to lose his + memory, become morose, and spend whole days over his liquor; as also that + he choked with grief and wept bitterly when, rubbing his eyes with his + dirty hand, he bethought him of his wandering lamb, his daughter Dunasha! + How natural, how natural! You should read the book for yourself. The thing + is actually alive. Even I can see that; even I can realise that it is a + picture cut from the very life around me. In it I see our own Theresa (to + go no further) and the poor tchinovnik—who is just such a man as + this Samson Virin, except for his surname of Gorshkov. The book describes + just what might happen to ourselves—to myself in particular. Even a + count who lives in the Nevski Prospect or in Naberezhnaia Street might + have a similar experience, though he might APPEAR to be different, owing + to the fact that his life is cast on a higher plane. Yes, just the same + things might happen to him—just the same things.... Here you are + wishing to go away and leave us; yet, be careful lest it would not be I + who had to pay the penalty of your doing so. For you might ruin both + yourself and me. For the love of God, put away these thoughts from you, my + darling, and do not torture me in vain. How could you, my poor little + unfledged nestling, find yourself food, and defend yourself from + misfortune, and ward off the wiles of evil men? Think better of it, + Barbara, and pay no more heed to foolish advice and calumny, but read your + book again, and read it with attention. It may do you much good. + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of Rataziaev’s “The Station Overseer”. However, the author + has told me that the work is old-fashioned, since, nowadays, books are + issued with illustrations and embellishments of different sorts (though I + could not make out all that he said). Pushkin he adjudges a splendid poet, + and one who has done honour to Holy Russia. Read your book again, Barbara, + and follow my advice, and make an old man happy. The Lord God Himself will + reward you. Yes, He will surely reward you.—Your faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Today Thedora came to me with fifteen + roubles in silver. How glad was the poor woman when I gave her three of + them! I am writing to you in great haste, for I am busy cutting out a + waistcoat to send to you—buff, with a pattern of flowers. Also I am + sending you a book of stories; some of which I have read myself, + particularly one called “The Cloak.” ... You invite me to go to the + theatre with you. But will it not cost too much? Of course we might sit in + the gallery. It is a long time (indeed I cannot remember when I last did + so) since I visited a theatre! Yet I cannot help fearing that such an + amusement is beyond our means. Thedora keeps nodding her head, and saying + that you have taken to living above your income. I myself divine the same + thing by the amount which you have spent upon me. Take care, dear friend, + that misfortune does not come of it, for Thedora has also informed me of + certain rumours concerning your inability to meet your landlady’s bills. + In fact, I am very anxious about you. Now, goodbye, for I must hasten away + to see about another matter—about the changing of the ribands on my + bonnet. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Do you know, if we go to the theatre, I think that I shall wear + my new hat and black mantilla. Will that not look nice? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 7th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—SO much for yesterday! Yes, dearest, we + have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly + bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her with + all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my first sight + of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the theatre. In those + days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young men—a most + noisy crew—and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, to the + theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, and only + assisted them for company’s sake. How those fellows talked to me of this + actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire band of them + (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would betake + themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended to the + gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the actress in + question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after we had + returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on talking about + her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to + be in love with “the canary-bird of their hearts.” My defenseless self, + too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. What a + figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the gallery! Yet, I + never got a sight of more than just a corner of the curtain, but had to + content myself with listening. She had a fine, resounding, mellow voice + like a nightingale’s, and we all of us used to clap our hands loudly, and + to shout at the top of our lungs. In short, we came very near to being + ejected. On the first occasion I went home walking as in a mist, with a + single rouble left in my pocket, and an interval of ten clear days + confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, what think you, dearest? The very + next day, before going to work, I called at a French perfumer’s, and spent + my whole remaining capital on some eau-de-Cologne and scented soap! Why I + did so I do not know. Nor did I dine at home that day, but kept walking + and walking past her windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the + Nevski Prospect). At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to rest + a short hour before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect and resuming + my vigil before her windows. For a month and a half I kept this up—dangling + in her train. Sometimes I would hire cabs, and discharge them in view of + her abode; until at length I had entirely ruined myself, and got into + debt. Then I fell out of love with her—I grew weary of the + pursuit.... You see, therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a + decent man. In those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY + young. + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 8th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—The book which I received from you on + the 6th of this month I now hasten to return, while at the same time + hastening also to explain matters to you in this accompanying letter. What + a misfortune, my beloved, that you should have brought me to such a pass! + Our lots in life are apportioned by the Almighty according to our human + deserts. To such a one He assigns a life in a general’s epaulets or as a + privy councillor—to such a one, I say, He assigns a life of command; + whereas to another one, He allots only a life of unmurmuring toil and + suffering. These things are calculated according to a man’s CAPACITY. One + man may be capable of one thing, and another of another, and their several + capacities are ordered by the Lord God himself. I have now been thirty + years in the public service, and have fulfilled my duties irreproachably, + remained abstemious, and never been detected in any unbecoming behaviour. + As a citizen, I may confess—I confess it freely—I have been + guilty of certain shortcomings; yet those shortcomings have been combined + with certain virtues. I am respected by my superiors, and even his + Excellency has had no fault to find with me; and though I have never been + shown any special marks of favour, I know that every one finds me at least + satisfactory. Also, my writing is sufficiently legible and clear. Neither + too rounded nor too fine, it is a running hand, yet always suitable. Of + our staff only Ivan Prokofievitch writes a similar hand. Thus have I lived + till the grey hairs of my old age; yet I can think of no serious fault + committed. Of course, no one is free from MINOR faults. Everyone has some + of them, and you among the rest, my beloved. But in grave or in audacious + offences never have I been detected, nor in infringements of regulations, + nor in breaches of the public peace. No, never! This you surely know, even + as the author of your book must have known it. Yes, he also must have + known it when he sat down to write. I had not expected this of you, my + Barbara. I should never have expected it. + </p> + <p> + What? In future I am not to go on living peacefully in my little corner, + poor though that corner be I am not to go on living, as the proverb has + it, without muddying the water, or hurting any one, or forgetting the fear + of the Lord God and of oneself? I am not to see, forsooth, that no man + does me an injury, or breaks into my home—I am not to take care that + all shall go well with me, or that I have clothes to wear, or that my + shoes do not require mending, or that I be given work to do, or that I + possess sufficient meat and drink? Is it nothing that, where the pavement + is rotten, I have to walk on tiptoe to save my boots? If I write to you + overmuch concerning myself, is it concerning ANOTHER man, rather, that I + ought to write—concerning HIS wants, concerning HIS lack of tea to + drink (and all the world needs tea)? Has it ever been my custom to pry + into other men’s mouths, to see what is being put into them? Have I ever + been known to offend any one in that respect? No, no, beloved! Why should + I desire to insult other folks when they are not molesting ME? Let me give + you an example of what I mean. A man may go on slaving and slaving in the + public service, and earn the respect of his superiors (for what it is + worth), and then, for no visible reason at all, find himself made a fool + of. Of course he may break out now and then (I am not now referring only + to drunkenness), and (for example) buy himself a new pair of shoes, and + take pleasure in seeing his feet looking well and smartly shod. Yes, I + myself have known what it is to feel like that (I write this in good + faith). Yet I am nonetheless astonished that Thedor Thedorovitch should + neglect what is being said about him, and take no steps to defend himself. + True, he is only a subordinate official, and sometimes loves to rate and + scold; yet why should he not do so—why should he not indulge in a + little vituperation when he feels like it? Suppose it to be NECESSARY, for + FORM’S sake, to scold, and to set everyone right, and to shower around + abuse (for, between ourselves, Barbara, our friend cannot get on WITHOUT + abuse—so much so that every one humours him, and does things behind + his back)? Well, since officials differ in rank, and every official + demands that he shall be allowed to abuse his fellow officials in + proportion to his rank, it follows that the TONE also of official abuse + should become divided into ranks, and thus accord with the natural order + of things. All the world is built upon the system that each one of us + shall have to yield precedence to some other one, as well as to enjoy a + certain power of abusing his fellows. Without such a provision the world + could not get on at all, and simple chaos would ensue. Yet I am surprised + that our Thedor should continue to overlook insults of the kind that he + endures. + </p> + <p> + Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will my doing + of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, or to buy me a new + pair of shoes? No, Barbara. Men only read the documents, and then require + me to write more. Sometimes a man will hide himself away, and not show his + face abroad, for the mere reason that, though he has done nothing to be + ashamed of, he dreads the gossip and slandering which are everywhere to be + encountered. If his civic and family life have to do with literature, + everything will be printed and read and laughed over and discussed; until + at length, he hardly dare show his face in the street at all, seeing that + he will have been described by report as recognisable through his gait + alone! Then, when he has amended his ways, and grown gentler (even though + he still continues to be loaded with official work), he will come to be + accounted a virtuous, decent citizen who has deserved well of his + comrades, rendered obedience to his superiors, wished no one any evil, + preserved the fear of God in his heart, and died lamented. Yet would it + not be better, instead of letting the poor fellow die, to give him a cloak + while yet he is ALIVE—to give it to this same Thedor Thedorovitch + (that is to say, to myself)? Yes, ‘twere far better if, on hearing the + tale of his subordinate’s virtues, the chief of the department were to + call the deserving man into his office, and then and there to promote him, + and to grant him an increase of salary. Thus vice would be punished, + virtue would prevail, and the staff of that department would live in peace + together. Here we have an example from everyday, commonplace life. How, + therefore, could you bring yourself to send me that book, my beloved? It + is a badly conceived work, Barbara, and also unreal, for the reason that + in creation such a tchinovnik does not exist. No, again I protest against + it, little Barbara; again I protest.—Your most humble, devoted + servant, + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Your latest conduct and letters had + frightened me, and left me thunderstruck and plunged in doubt, until what + you have said about Thedor explained the situation. Why despair and go + into such frenzies, Makar Alexievitch? Your explanations only partially + satisfy me. Perhaps I did wrong to insist upon accepting a good situation + when it was offered me, seeing that from my last experience in that way I + derived a shock which was anything but a matter for jesting. You say also + that your love for me has compelled you to hide yourself in retirement. + Now, how much I am indebted to you I realised when you told me that you + were spending for my benefit the sum which you are always reported to have + laid by at your bankers; but, now that I have learned that you never + possessed such a fund, but that, on hearing of my destitute plight, and + being moved by it, you decided to spend upon me the whole of your salary—even + to forestall it—and when I had fallen ill, actually to sell your + clothes—when I learned all this I found myself placed in the + harassing position of not knowing how to accept it all, nor what to think + of it. Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought to have stopped at your first acts + of charity—acts inspired by sympathy and the love of kinsfolk, + rather than have continued to squander your means upon what was + unnecessary. Yes, you have betrayed our friendship, Makar Alexievitch, in + that you have not been open with me; and, now that I see that your last + coin has been spent upon dresses and bon-bons and excursions and books and + visits to the theatre for me, I weep bitter tears for my unpardonable + improvidence in having accepted these things without giving so much as a + thought to your welfare. Yes, all that you have done to give me pleasure + has become converted into a source of grief, and left behind it only + useless regret. Of late I have remarked that you were looking depressed; + and though I felt fearful that something unfortunate was impending, what + has happened would otherwise never have entered my head. To think that + your better sense should so play you false, Makar Alexievitch! What will + people think of you, and say of you? Who will want to know you? You whom, + like everyone else, I have valued for your goodness of heart and modesty + and good sense—YOU, I say, have now given way to an unpleasant vice + of which you seem never before to have been guilty. What were my feelings + when Thedora informed me that you had been discovered drunk in the street, + and taken home by the police? Why, I felt petrified with astonishment—although, + in view of the fact that you had failed me for four days, I had been + expecting some such extraordinary occurrence. Also, have you thought what + your superiors will say of you when they come to learn the true reason of + your absence? You say that everyone is laughing at you, that every one has + learnt of the bond which exists between us, and that your neighbours + habitually refer to me with a sneer. Pay no attention to this, Makar + Alexievitch; for the love of God, be comforted. Also, the incident between + you and the officers has much alarmed me, although I had heard certain + rumours concerning it. Pray explain to me what it means. You write, too, + that you have been afraid to be open with me, for the reason that your + confessions might lose you my friendship. Also, you say that you are in + despair at the thought of being unable to help me in my illness, owing to + the fact that you have sold everything which might have maintained me, and + preserved me in sickness, as well as that you have borrowed as much as it + is possible for you to borrow, and are daily experiencing unpleasantness + with your landlady. Well, in failing to reveal all this to me you chose + the worse course. Now, however, I know all. You have forced me to + recognise that I have been the cause of your unhappy plight, as well as + that my own conduct has brought upon myself a twofold measure of sorrow. + The fact leaves me thunderstruck, Makar Alexievitch. Ah, friend, an + infectious disease is indeed a misfortune, for now we poor and miserable + folk must perforce keep apart from one another, lest the infection be + increased. Yes, I have brought upon you calamities which never before in + your humble, solitary life you had experienced. This tortures and exhausts + me more than I can tell to think of. + </p> + <p> + Write to me quite frankly. Tell me how you came to embark upon such a + course of conduct. Comfort, oh, comfort me if you can. It is not self-love + that prompts me to speak of my own comforting, but my friendship and love + for you, which will never fade from my heart. Goodbye. I await your answer + with impatience. You have thought but poorly of me, Makar Alexievitch.—Your + friend and lover, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY PRICELESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—What am I to say to you, now that + all is over, and we are gradually returning to our old position? You say + that you are anxious as to what will be thought of me. Let me tell you + that the dearest thing in life to me is my self-respect; wherefore, in + informing you of my misfortunes and misconduct, I would add that none of + my superiors know of my doings, nor ever will know of them, and that + therefore, I still enjoy a measure of respect in that quarter. Only one + thing do I fear—I fear gossip. Garrulous though my landlady be, she + said but little when, with the aid of your ten roubles, I today paid her + part of her account; and as for the rest of my companions, they do not + matter at all. So long as I have not borrowed money from them, I need pay + them no attention. To conclude my explanations, let me tell you that I + value your respect for me above everything in the world, and have found it + my greatest comfort during this temporary distress of mine. Thank God, the + first shock of things has abated, now that you have agreed not to look + upon me as faithless and an egotist simply because I have deceived you. I + wish to hold you to myself, for the reason that I cannot bear to part with + you, and love you as my guardian angel.... I have now returned to work, + and am applying myself diligently to my duties. Also, yesterday Evstafi + Ivanovitch exchanged a word or two with me. Yet I will not conceal from + you the fact that my debts are crushing me down, and that my wardrobe is + in a sorry state. At the same time, these things do not REALLY matter and + I would bid you not despair about them. Send me, however, another + half-rouble if you can (though that half-rouble will stab me to the heart—stab + me with the thought that it is not I who am helping you, but YOU who are + helping ME). Thedora has done well to get those fifteen roubles for you. + At the moment, fool of an old man that I am, I have no hope of acquiring + any more money; but as soon as ever I do so, I will write to you and let + you know all about it. What chiefly worries me is the fear of gossip. + Goodbye, little angel. I kiss your hands, and beseech you to regain your + health. If this is not a detailed letter, the reason is that I must soon + be starting for the office, in order that, by strict application to duty, + I may make amends for the past. Further information concerning my doings + (as well as concerning that affair with the officers) must be deferred + until tonight.—Your affectionate and respectful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 28th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,—It is YOU who have committed a fault—and + one which must weigh heavily upon your conscience. Indeed, your last + letter has amazed and confounded me,—so much so that, on once more + looking into the recesses of my heart, I perceive that I was perfectly + right in what I did. Of course I am not now referring to my debauch (no, + indeed!), but to the fact that I love you, and to the fact that it is + unwise of me to love you—very unwise. You know not how matters + stand, my darling. You know not why I am BOUND to love you. Otherwise you + would not say all that you do. Yet I am persuaded that it is your head + rather than your heart that is speaking. I am certain that your heart + thinks very differently. + </p> + <p> + What occurred that night between myself and those officers I scarcely + know, I scarcely remember. You must bear in mind that for some time past I + have been in terrible distress—that for a whole month I have been, + so to speak, hanging by a single thread. Indeed, my position has been most + pitiable. Though I hid myself from you, my landlady was forever shouting + and railing at me. This would not have mattered a jot—the horrible + old woman might have shouted as much as she pleased—had it not been + that, in the first place, there was the disgrace of it, and, in the second + place, she had somehow learned of our connection, and kept proclaiming it + to the household until I felt perfectly deafened, and had to stop my ears. + The point, however, is that other people did not stop their ears, but, on + the contrary, pricked them. Indeed, I am at a loss what to do. + </p> + <p> + Really this wretched rabble has driven me to extremities. It all began + with my hearing a strange rumour from Thedora—namely, that an + unworthy suitor had been to visit you, and had insulted you with an + improper proposal. That he had insulted you deeply I knew from my own + feelings, for I felt insulted in an equal degree. Upon that, my angel, I + went to pieces, and, losing all self-control, plunged headlong. Bursting + into an unspeakable frenzy, I was at once going to call upon this villain + of a seducer—though what to do next I knew not, seeing that I was + fearful of giving you offence. Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what + a time of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found + myself unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened to come + by. He also is a tchinovnik—or rather, was a tchinovnik, since he + was turned out of the service some time ago. What he was doing there at + that moment I do not know; I only know that I went with him.... Surely it + cannot give you pleasure to read of the misfortunes of your friend—of + his sorrows, and of the temptations which he experienced?... On the + evening of the third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of whom + I have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik. More + strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous occasion, he had + come to play cards here, and I had followed him home. Of course I now see + that I did wrong, but I felt beside myself when I heard them telling him + stories about me. Exactly what happened next I cannot remember. I only + remember that several other officers were present as well as he. Or it may + be that I saw everything double—God alone knows. Also, I cannot + exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my fury I said a + great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw me down the + staircase—pushed me down it, that is to say. How I got home you + know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself, and my pride + underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except yourself knows of the + affair, and in any case it does not matter. Perhaps the affair is as you + imagine it to have been, Barbara? One thing I know for certain, and that + is that last year one of our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar + liberty with Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute + secret. He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a + crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in the way + that a gentleman should—no one except myself being a witness of the + scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no explanation at all. After the + scene was over, nothing further transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch and + Peter Petrovitch, for the reason that the latter was so desirous of + getting on in life that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and + shake hands whenever they meet.... I will not dispute the fact that I have + erred most grievously—that I should never dare to dispute, or that I + have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I was fated from + birth so to do—and one cannot escape fate, my beloved. Here, + therefore, is a detailed explanation of my misfortunes and sorrows, + written for you to read whenever you may find it convenient. I am far from + well, beloved, and have lost all my gaiety of disposition, but I send you + this letter as a token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh dear lady of + my affections.—Your humble servant, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 29th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I have read your two letters, and they + make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass over certain + things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of your misfortunes. Can + it be that the letters are the outcome of a mental disorder?... Come and + see me, for God’s sake. Come today, direct from the office, and dine with + us as you have done before. As to how you are living now, or as to what + settlement you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you write + nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have left them + unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today without fail. You + would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is an excellent cook. Goodbye—Your + own, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 1st. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Thank God that He has sent you a + chance of repaying my good with good. I believe in so doing, as well as in + the sweetness of your angelic heart. Therefore, I will not reproach you. + Only I pray you, do not again blame me because in the decline of my life I + have played the spendthrift. It was such a sin, was it not?—such a + thing to do? And even if you would still have it that the sin was there, + remember, little friend, what it costs me to hear such words fall from + your lips. Do not be vexed with me for saying this, for my heart is + fainting. Poor people are subject to fancies—this is a provision of + nature. I myself have had reason to know this. The poor man is exacting. + He cannot see God’s world as it is, but eyes each passer-by askance, and + looks around him uneasily in order that he may listen to every word that + is being uttered. May not people be talking of him? How is it that he is + so unsightly? What is he feeling at all? What sort of figure is he cutting + on the one side or on the other? It is matter of common knowledge, my + Barbara, that the poor man ranks lower than a rag, and will never earn the + respect of any one. Yes, write about him as you like—let scribblers + say what they choose about him—he will ever remain as he was. And + why is this? It is because, from his very nature, the poor man has to wear + his feelings on his sleeve, so that nothing about him is sacred, and as + for his self-respect—! Well, Emelia told me the other day that once, + when he had to collect subscriptions, official sanction was demanded for + every single coin, since people thought that it would be no use paying + their money to a poor man. Nowadays charity is strangely administered. + Perhaps it has always been so. Either folk do not know how to administer + it, or they are adept in the art—one of the two. Perhaps you did not + know this, so I beg to tell it you. And how comes it that the poor man + knows, is so conscious of it all? The answer is—by experience. He + knows because any day he may see a gentleman enter a restaurant and ask + himself, “What shall I have to eat today? I will have such and such a + dish,” while all the time the poor man will have nothing to eat that day + but gruel. There are men, too—wretched busybodies—who walk + about merely to see if they can find some wretched tchinovnik or + broken-down official who has got toes projecting from his boots or his + hair uncut! And when they have found such a one they make a report of the + circumstance, and their rubbish gets entered on the file.... But what does + it matter to you if my hair lacks the shears? If you will forgive me what + may seem to you a piece of rudeness, I declare that the poor man is + ashamed of such things with the sensitiveness of a young girl. YOU, for + instance, would not care (pray pardon my bluntness) to unrobe yourself + before the public eye; and in the same way, the poor man does not like to + be pried at or questioned concerning his family relations, and so forth. A + man of honour and self-respect such as I am finds it painful and grievous + to have to consort with men who would deprive him of both. + </p> + <p> + Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear’s cub or a plucked sparrow, + so that I fairly burned with shame. Yes, it hurt me terribly, Barbara. + Naturally one blushes when one can see one’s naked toes projecting through + one’s boots, and one’s buttons hanging by a single thread! As though on + purpose, I seemed, on this occasion, to be peculiarly dishevelled. No + wonder that my spirits fell. When I was talking on business matters to + Stepan Karlovitch, he suddenly exclaimed, for no apparent reason, “Ah, + poor old Makar Alexievitch!” and then left the rest unfinished. But I knew + what he had in his mind, and blushed so hotly that even the bald patch on + my head grew red. Of course the whole thing is nothing, but it worries me, + and leads to anxious thoughts. What can these fellows know about me? God + send that they know nothing! But I confess that I suspect, I strongly + suspect, one of my colleagues. Let them only betray me! They would betray + one’s private life for a groat, for they hold nothing sacred. + </p> + <p> + I have an idea who is at the bottom of it all. It is Rataziaev. Probably + he knows someone in our department to whom he has recounted the story with + additions. Or perhaps he has spread it abroad in his own department, and + thence, it has crept and crawled into ours. Everyone here knows it, down + to the last detail, for I have seen them point at you with their fingers + through the window. Oh yes, I have seen them do it. Yesterday, when I + stepped across to dine with you, the whole crew were hanging out of the + window to watch me, and the landlady exclaimed that the devil was in young + people, and called you certain unbecoming names. But this is as nothing + compared with Rataziaev’s foul intention to place us in his books, and to + describe us in a satire. He himself has declared that he is going to do + so, and other people say the same. In fact, I know not what to think, nor + what to decide. It is no use concealing the fact that you and I have + sinned against the Lord God.... You were going to send me a book of some + sort, to divert my mind—were you not, dearest? What book, though, + could now divert me? Only such books as have never existed on earth. + Novels are rubbish, and written for fools and for the idle. Believe me, + dearest, I know it through long experience. Even should they vaunt + Shakespeare to you, I tell you that Shakespeare is rubbish, and proper + only for lampoons—Your own, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 2nd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Do not disquiet yourself. God will + grant that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a quantity of + work, both for me and herself, and we are setting about it with a will. + Perhaps it will put us straight again. Thedora suspects my late + misfortunes to be connected with Anna Thedorovna; but I do not care—I + feel extraordinarily cheerful today. So you are thinking of borrowing more + money? If so, may God preserve you, for you will assuredly be ruined when + the time comes for repayment! You had far better come and live with us + here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode here, and pay no + attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for the rest of your + enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is with vain imaginings that + you are vexing yourself.... In passing, let me tell you that your style + differs greatly from letter to letter. Goodbye until we meet again. I + await your coming with impatience—Your own, + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 3rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY ANGEL, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to inform you, Oh light of my + life, that my hopes are rising again. But, little daughter of mine—do + you really mean it when you say that I am to indulge in no more + borrowings? Why, I could not do without them. Things would go badly with + us both if I did so. You are ailing. Consequently, I tell you roundly that + I MUST borrow, and that I must continue to do so. + </p> + <p> + Also, I may tell you that my seat in the office is now next to that of a + certain Emelia Ivanovitch. He is not the Emelia whom you know, but a man + who, like myself, is a privy councillor, as well as represents, with + myself, the senior and oldest official in our department. Likewise he is a + good, disinterested soul, and one that is not over-talkative, though a + true bear in appearance and demeanour. Industrious, and possessed of a + handwriting purely English, his caligraphy is, it must be confessed, even + worse than my own. Yes, he is a good soul. At the same time, we have never + been intimate with one another. We have done no more than exchange + greetings on meeting or parting, borrow one another’s penknife if we + needed one, and, in short, observe such bare civilities as convention + demands. Well, today he said to me, “Makar Alexievitch, what makes you + look so thoughtful?” and inasmuch as I could see that he wished me well, I + told him all—or, rather, I did not tell him EVERYTHING, for that I + do to no man (I have not the heart to do it); I told him just a few + scattered details concerning my financial straits. “Then you ought to + borrow,” said he. “You ought to obtain a loan of Peter Petrovitch, who + does a little in that way. I myself once borrowed some money of him, and + he charged me fair and light interest.” Well, Barbara, my heart leapt + within me at these words. I kept thinking and thinking,—if only God + would put it into the mind of Peter Petrovitch to be my benefactor by + advancing me a loan! I calculated that with its aid I might both repay my + landlady and assist yourself and get rid of my surroundings (where I can + hardly sit down to table without the rascals making jokes about me). + Sometimes his Excellency passes our desk in the office. He glances at me, + and cannot but perceive how poorly I am dressed. Now, neatness and + cleanliness are two of his strongest points. Even though he says nothing, + I feel ready to die with shame when he approaches. Well, hardening my + heart, and putting my diffidence into my ragged pocket, I approached Peter + Petrovitch, and halted before him more dead than alive. Yet I was hopeful, + and though, as it turned out, he was busily engaged in talking to Thedosei + Ivanovitch, I walked up to him from behind, and plucked at his sleeve. He + looked away from me, but I recited my speech about thirty roubles, et + cetera, et cetera, of which, at first, he failed to catch the meaning. + Even when I had explained matters to him more fully, he only burst out + laughing, and said nothing. Again I addressed to him my request; + whereupon, asking me what security I could give, he again buried himself + in his papers, and went on writing without deigning me even a second + glance. Dismay seized me. “Peter Petrovitch,” I said, “I can offer you no + security,” but to this I added an explanation that some salary would, in + time, be due to me, which I would make over to him, and account the loan + my first debt. At that moment someone called him away, and I had to wait a + little. On returning, he began to mend his pen as though he had not even + noticed that I was there. But I was for myself this time. “Peter + Petrovitch,” I continued, “can you not do ANYTHING?” Still he maintained + silence, and seemed not to have heard me. I waited and waited. At length I + determined to make a final attempt, and plucked him by the sleeve. He + muttered something, and, his pen mended, set about his writing. There was + nothing for me to do but to depart. He and the rest of them are worthy + fellows, dearest—that I do not doubt—but they are also proud, + very proud. What have I to do with them? Yet I thought I would write and + tell you all about it. Meanwhile Emelia Ivanovitch had been encouraging me + with nods and smiles. He is a good soul, and has promised to recommend me + to a friend of his who lives in Viborskaia Street and lends money. Emelia + declares that this friend will certainly lend me a little; so tomorrow, + beloved, I am going to call upon the gentleman in question.... What do you + think about it? It would be a pity not to obtain a loan. My landlady is on + the point of turning me out of doors, and has refused to allow me any more + board. Also, my boots are wearing through, and have lost every button—and + I do not possess another pair! Could anyone in a government office display + greater shabbiness? It is dreadful, my Barbara—it is simply + dreadful! + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 4th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—For God’s sake borrow some money as + soon as you can. I would not ask this help of you were it not for the + situation in which I am placed. Thedora and myself cannot remain any + longer in our present lodgings, for we have been subjected to great + unpleasantness, and you cannot imagine my state of agitation and dismay. + The reason is that this morning we received a visit from an elderly—almost + an old—man whose breast was studded with orders. Greatly surprised, + I asked him what he wanted (for at the moment Thedora had gone out + shopping); whereupon he began to question me as to my mode of life and + occupation, and then, without waiting for an answer, informed me that he + was uncle to the officer of whom you have spoken; that he was very angry + with his nephew for the way in which the latter had behaved, especially + with regard to his slandering of me right and left; and that he, the + uncle, was ready to protect me from the young spendthrift’s insolence. + Also, he advised me to have nothing to say to young fellows of that stamp, + and added that he sympathised with me as though he were my own father, and + would gladly help me in any way he could. At this I blushed in some + confusion, but did not greatly hasten to thank him. Next, he took me + forcibly by the hand, and, tapping my cheek, said that I was very + good-looking, and that he greatly liked the dimples in my face (God only + knows what he meant!). Finally he tried to kiss me, on the plea that he + was an old man, the brute! At this moment Thedora returned; whereupon, in + some confusion, he repeated that he felt a great respect for my modesty + and virtue, and that he much wished to become acquainted with me; after + which he took Thedora aside, and tried, on some pretext or another, to + give her money (though of course she declined it). At last he took himself + off—again reiterating his assurances, and saying that he intended to + return with some earrings as a present; that he advised me to change my + lodgings; and, that he could recommend me a splendid flat which he had in + his mind’s eye as likely to cost me nothing. Yes, he also declared that he + greatly liked me for my purity and good sense; that I must beware of + dissolute young men; and that he knew Anna Thedorovna, who had charged him + to inform me that she would shortly be visiting me in person. Upon that, I + understood all. What I did next I scarcely know, for I had never before + found myself in such a position; but I believe that I broke all + restraints, and made the old man feel thoroughly ashamed of himself—Thedora + helping me in the task, and well-nigh turning him neck and crop out of the + tenement. Neither of us doubt that this is Anna Thedorovna’s work—for + how otherwise could the old man have got to know about us? + </p> + <p> + Now, therefore, Makar Alexievitch, I turn to you for help. Do not, for + God’s sake, leave me in this plight. Borrow all the money that you can + get, for I have not the wherewithal to leave these lodgings, yet cannot + possibly remain in them any longer. At all events, this is Thedora’s + advice. She and I need at least twenty-five roubles, which I will repay + you out of what I earn by my work, while Thedora shall get me additional + work from day to day, so that, if there be heavy interest to pay on the + loan, you shall not be troubled with the extra burden. Nay, I will make + over to you all that I possess if only you will continue to help me. + Truly, I grieve to have to trouble you when you yourself are so hardly + situated, but my hopes rest upon you, and upon you alone. Goodbye, Makar + Alexievitch. Think of me, and may God speed you on your errand! + </p> + <p> + B.D. <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 4th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—These unlooked-for blows have shaken + me terribly, and these strange calamities have quite broken my spirit. Not + content with trying to bring you to a bed of sickness, these lickspittles + and pestilent old men are trying to bring me to the same. And I assure you + that they are succeeding—I assure you that they are. Yet I would + rather die than not help you. If I cannot help you I SHALL die; but, to + enable me to help you, you must flee like a bird out of the nest where + these owls, these birds of prey, are seeking to peck you to death. How + distressed I feel, my dearest! Yet how cruel you yourself are! Although + you are enduring pain and insult, although you, little nestling, are in + agony of spirit, you actually tell me that it grieves you to disturb me, + and that you will work off your debt to me with the labour of your own + hands! In other words, you, with your weak health, are proposing to kill + yourself in order to relieve me to term of my financial embarrassments! + Stop a moment, and think what you are saying. WHY should you sew, and + work, and torture your poor head with anxiety, and spoil your beautiful + eyes, and ruin your health? Why, indeed? Ah, little Barbara, little + Barbara! Do you not see that I shall never be any good to you, never any + good to you? At all events, I myself see it. Yet I WILL help you in your + distress. I WILL overcome every difficulty, I WILL get extra work to do, I + WILL copy out manuscripts for authors, I WILL go to the latter and force + them to employ me, I WILL so apply myself to the work that they shall see + that I am a good copyist (and good copyists, I know, are always in + demand). Thus there will be no need for you to exhaust your strength, nor + will I allow you to do so—I will not have you carry out your + disastrous intention... Yes, little angel, I will certainly borrow some + money. I would rather die than not do so. Merely tell me, my own darling, + that I am not to shrink from heavy interest, and I will not shrink from + it, I will not shrink from it—nay, I will shrink from nothing. I + will ask for forty roubles, to begin with. That will not be much, will it, + little Barbara? Yet will any one trust me even with that sum at the first + asking? Do you think that I am capable of inspiring confidence at the + first glance? Would the mere sight of my face lead any one to form of me a + favourable opinion? Have I ever been able, remember you, to appear to + anyone in a favourable light? What think you? Personally, I see + difficulties in the way, and feel sick at heart at the mere prospect. + However, of those forty roubles I mean to set aside twenty-five for + yourself, two for my landlady, and the remainder for my own spending. Of + course, I ought to give more than two to my landlady, but you must + remember my necessities, and see for yourself that that is the most that + can be assigned to her. We need say no more about it. For one rouble I + shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for I scarcely know whether my old ones + will take me to the office tomorrow morning. Also, a new neck-scarf is + indispensable, seeing that the old one has now passed its first year; but, + since you have promised to make of your old apron not only a scarf, but + also a shirt-front, I need think no more of the article in question. So + much for shoes and scarves. Next, for buttons. You yourself will agree + that I cannot do without buttons; nor is there on my garments a single hem + unfrayed. I tremble when I think that some day his Excellency may perceive + my untidiness, and say—well, what will he NOT say? Yet I shall never + hear what he says, for I shall have expired where I sit—expired of + mere shame at the thought of having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest!... + Well, my various necessities will have left me three roubles to go on + with. Part of this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco—for + I cannot live without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put a pipe + into my mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco without + acquainting you with the fact, although I ought not so to do. The pity of + it all is that, while you are depriving yourself of everything, I keep + solacing myself with various amenities—which is why I am telling you + this, that the pangs of conscience may not torment me. Frankly, I confess + that I am in desperate straits—in such straits as I have never yet + known. My landlady flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of no one; my arrears + and debts are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the + place exactly a paradise, no one has a single word to say to me. Yet I + hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide my person in the + same way, were it not that daily I have to attend the office where I have + to be constantly on my guard against my fellows. Nevertheless, merely to + be able to CONFESS this to you renews my spiritual strength. We must not + think of these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them break our + courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of them, nor to + torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my God, what is to become of + us? Stay where you are until I can come to you; after which I shall not + return hither, but simply disappear. Now I have finished my letter, and + must go and shave myself, inasmuch as, when that is done, one always feels + more decent, as well as consorts more easily with decency. God speed me! + One prayer to Him, and I must be off. + </p> + <p> + M. DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 5th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—You must not despair. Away with + melancholy! I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret that I + cannot send you more. Buy yourself what you most need until tomorrow. I + myself have almost nothing left, and what I am going to do I know not. Is + it not dreadful, Makar Alexievitch? Yet do not be downcast—it is no + good being that. Thedora declares that it would not be a bad thing if we + were to remain in this tenement, since if we left it suspicions would + arise, and our enemies might take it into their heads to look for us. On + the other hand, I do not think it would be well for us to remain here. If + I were feeling less sad I would tell you my reason. + </p> + <p> + What a strange man you are, Makar Alexievitch! You take things so much to + heart that you never know what it is to be happy. I read your letters + attentively, and can see from them that, though you worry and disturb + yourself about me, you never give a thought to yourself. Yes, every letter + tells me that you have a kind heart; but I tell YOU that that heart is + overly kind. So I will give you a little friendly advice, Makar + Alexievitch. I am full of gratitude towards you—I am indeed full for + all that you have done for me, I am most sensible of your goodness; but, + to think that I should be forced to see that, in spite of your own + troubles (of which I have been the involuntary cause), you live for me + alone—you live but for MY joys and MY sorrows and MY affection! If + you take the affairs of another person so to heart, and suffer with her to + such an extent, I do not wonder that you yourself are unhappy. Today, when + you came to see me after office-work was done, I felt afraid even to raise + my eyes to yours, for you looked so pale and desperate, and your face had + so fallen in. Yes, you were dreading to have to tell me of your failure to + borrow money—you were dreading to have to grieve and alarm me; but, + when you saw that I came very near to smiling, the load was, I know, + lifted from your heart. So do not be despondent, do not give way, but + allow more rein to your better sense. I beg and implore this of you, for + it will not be long before you see things take a turn for the better. You + will but spoil your life if you constantly lament another person’s sorrow. + Goodbye, dear friend. I beseech you not to be over-anxious about me. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 5th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,—This is well, this is well, my angel! So + you are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain any money + does not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am happy on your account. + Also, I am delighted to think that you are not going to desert your old + friend, but intend to remain in your present lodgings. Indeed, my heart + was overcharged with joy when I read in your letter those kindly words + about myself, as well as a not wholly unmerited recognition of my + sentiments. I say this not out of pride, but because now I know how much + you love me to be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to think that + I may speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be faint-hearted. + Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for instance, of the pair + of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office tomorrow! The fact is that + over-brooding proves the undoing of a man—his complete undoing. What + has saved me is the fact that it is not for myself that I am grieving, + that I am suffering, but for YOU. Nor would it matter to me in the least + that I should have to walk through the bitter cold without an overcoat or + boots—I could bear it, I could well endure it, for I am a simple man + in my requirements; but the point is—what would people say, what + would every envious and hostile tongue exclaim, when I was seen without an + overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that one wears an overcoat and boots. In + any case, therefore, I should have needed boots to maintain my name and + reputation; to both of which my ragged footgear would otherwise have + spelled ruin. Yes, it is so, my beloved, and you may believe an old man + who has had many years of experience, and knows both the world and + mankind, rather than a set of scribblers and daubers. + </p> + <p> + But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with me today. + During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit as might have been + experienced in a year. ‘Twas like this: First of all, I went out to call + upon the gentleman of whom I have spoken. I started very early, before + going to the office. Rain and sleet were falling, and I hugged myself in + my greatcoat as I walked along. “Lord,” thought I, “pardon my offences, + and send me fulfilment of all my desires;” and as I passed a church I + crossed myself, repented of my sins, and reminded myself that I was + unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then I retired into + myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking without noticing the + streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything had an empty air, and everyone + whom I met looked careworn and preoccupied, and no wonder, for who would + choose to walk abroad at such an early hour, and in such weather? Next a + band of ragged workmen met me, and jostled me boorishly as they passed; + upon which nervousness overtook me, and I felt uneasy, and tried hard not + to think of the money that was my errand. Near the Voskresenski Bridge my + feet began to ache with weariness, until I could hardly pull myself along; + until presently I met with Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping + aside, halted, and followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a + glass of vodka. “Ah, friend,” thought I, “go YOU to your vodka, but what + have I to do with such stuff?” Then, sadly weary, I halted for a moment’s + rest, and thereafter dragged myself further on my way. Purposely I kept + looking about me for something upon which to fasten my thoughts, with + which to distract, to encourage myself; but there was nothing. Not a + single idea could I connect with any given object, while, in addition, my + appearance was so draggled that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I + perceived from afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I + thought, must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia + Ivanovitch had mentioned to me as ready to lend money on interest. Half + unconscious of what I was doing, I asked a watchman if he could tell me to + whom the house belonged; whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed + at something, the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL + watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any case I + felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to like, and, no + matter what position one is in, things invariably appear to correspond to + it. Three times did I pass the house and walk the length of the street; + until the further I walked, the worse became my state of mind. “No, never, + never will he lend me anything!” I thought to myself, “He does not know + me, and my affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I shall cut a sorry + figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let Heaven send that I do + not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart with remorse!” Softly I + opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great ragged brute of a watch-dog came + flying out at me, and foaming at the mouth, and nearly jumping out his + skin! Curious is it to note what little, trivial incidents will nearly + make a man crazy, and strike terror to his heart, and annihilate the firm + purpose with which he has armed himself. At all events, I approached the + house more dead than alive, and walked straight into another catastrophe. + That is to say, not noticing the slipperiness of the threshold, I stumbled + against an old woman who was filling milk-jugs from a pail, and sent the + milk flying in every direction! The foolish old dame gave a start and a + cry, and then demanded of me whither I had been coming, and what it was I + wanted; after which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I + found something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of this + nature. It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into something. Upon + that, the noise and the commotion brought out the mistress of the house—an + old beldame of mean appearance. I addressed myself directly to her: “Does + Monsieur Markov live here?” was my inquiry. “No,” she replied, and then + stood looking at me civilly enough. “But what want you with him?” she + continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and the rest of + the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her daughter—a + barefooted girl in her teens—and told her to summon her father from + upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room which contained several + portraits of generals on the walls and was furnished with a sofa, a large + table, and a few pots of mignonette and balsam. “Shall I, or shall I not + (come weal, come woe) take myself off?” was my thought as I waited there. + Ah, how I longed to run away! “Yes,” I continued, “I had better come again + tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I shall not have upset + the milk, and these generals will not be looking at me so fiercely.” In + fact, I had actually begun to move towards the door when Monsieur Markov + entered—a grey-headed man with thievish eyes, and clad in a dirty + dressing-gown fastened with a belt. Greetings over, I stumbled out + something about Emelia Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and then came to a + dead halt, for his eyes told me that my errand had been futile. “No.” said + he, “I have no money. Moreover, what security could you offer?” I admitted + that I could offer none, but again added something about Emelia, as well + as about my pressing needs. Markov heard me out, and then repeated that he + had no money. “Ah,” thought I, “I might have known this—I might have + foreseen it!” And, to tell the truth, Barbara, I could have wished that + the earth had opened under my feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what + he did, so numbed did my legs grow as shivers began to run down my back. + Thus I remained gazing at him while he returned my gaze with a look which + said, “Well now, my friend? Why do you not go since you have no further + business to do here?” Somehow I felt conscience-stricken. “How is it that + you are in such need of money?” was what he appeared to be asking; + whereupon, I opened my mouth (anything rather than stand there to no + purpose at all!) but found that he was not even listening. “I have no + money,” again he said, “or I would lend you some with pleasure.” Several + times I repeated that I myself possessed a little, and that I would repay + any loan from him punctually, most punctually, and that he might charge me + what interest he liked, since I would meet it without fail. Yes, at that + moment I remembered our misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered + your half-rouble. “No,” said he, “I can lend you nothing without + security,” and clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber! + </p> + <p> + How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through Viborskaia Street, + to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not know. I only remember that I + felt terribly weary, cold, and starved, and that it was ten o’clock before + I reached the office. Arriving, I tried to clean myself up a little, but + Sniegirev, the porter, said that it was impossible for me to do so, and + that I should only spoil the brush, which belonged to the Government. + Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than the mat on which they + wipe their boots! What is it that will most surely break me? It is not the + want of money, but the LITTLE worries of life—these whisperings and + nods and jeers. Any day his Excellency himself may round upon me. Ah, + dearest, my golden days are gone. Today I have spent in reading your + letters through; and the reading of them has made me sad. Goodbye, my own, + and may the Lord watch over you! + </p> + <p> + M. DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half + jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My one + desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come and see you, + dearest. Without fail I will come and see you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 11th. + </h2> + <p> + O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone—we are both of us undone! Both of + us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined—my reputation, my + self-respect, all that I have in the world! And you as much as I. Never + shall we retrieve what we have lost. I—I have brought you to this + pass, for I have become an outcast, my darling. Everywhere I am laughed at + and despised. Even my landlady has taken to abusing me. Today she + overwhelmed me with shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a + hearth-brush. And last night, when I was in Rataziaev’s rooms, one of his + friends began to read a scribbled note which I had written to you, and + then inadvertently pulled out of my pocket. Oh beloved, what laughter + there arose at the recital! How those scoundrels mocked and derided you + and myself! I walked up to them and accused Rataziaev of breaking faith. I + said that he had played the traitor. But he only replied that I had been + the betrayer in the case, by indulging in various amours. “You have kept + them very dark though, Mr. Lovelace!” said he—and now I am known + everywhere by this name of “Lovelace.” They know EVERYTHING about us, my + darling, EVERYTHING—both about you and your affairs and about + myself; and when today I was for sending Phaldoni to the bakeshop for + something or other, he refused to go, saying that it was not his business. + “But you MUST go,” said I. “I will not,” he replied. “You have not paid my + mistress what you owe her, so I am not bound to run your errands.” At such + an insult from a raw peasant I lost my temper, and called him a fool; to + which he retorted in a similar vein. Upon this I thought that he must be + drunk, and told him so; whereupon he replied: “WHAT say you that I am? + Suppose you yourself go and sober up, for I know that the other day you + went to visit a woman, and that you got drunk with her on two grivenniks.” + To such a pass have things come! I feel ashamed to be seen alive. I am, as + it were, a man proclaimed; I am in a worse plight even than a tramp who + has lost his passport. How misfortunes are heaping themselves upon me! I + am lost—I am lost for ever! + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 13th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—It is true that misfortune is + following upon misfortune. I myself scarcely know what to do. Yet, no + matter how you may be fairing, you must not look for help from me, for + only today I burned my left hand with the iron! At one and the same moment + I dropped the iron, made a mistake in my work, and burned myself! So now I + can no longer work. Also, these three days past, Thedora has been ailing. + My anxiety is becoming positively torturous. Nevertheless, I send you + thirty kopecks—almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as + I should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. + I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of mine. You + will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 14th. + </h2> + <p> + What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch? Surely you cannot fear the + Lord God as you ought to do? You are not only driving me to distraction + but also ruining yourself with this eternal solicitude for your + reputation. You are a man of honour, nobility of character, and + self-respect, as everyone knows; yet, at any moment, you are ready to die + with shame! Surely you should have more consideration for your grey hairs. + No, the fear of God has departed from you. Thedora has told you that it is + out of my power to render you anymore help. See, therefore, to what a pass + you have brought me! Probably you think it is nothing to me that you + should behave so badly; probably you do not realise what you have made me + suffer. I dare not set foot on the staircase here, for if I do so I am + stared at, and pointed at, and spoken about in the most horrible manner. + Yes, it is even said of me that I am “united to a drunkard.” What a thing + to hear! And whenever you are brought home drunk folk say, “They are + carrying in that tchinovnik.” THAT is not the proper way to make me help + you. I swear that I MUST leave this place, and go and get work as a cook + or a laundress. It is impossible for me to stay here. Long ago I wrote and + asked you to come and see me, yet you have not come. Truly my tears and + prayers must mean NOTHING to you, Makar Alexievitch! Whence, too, did you + get the money for your debauchery? For the love of God be more careful of + yourself, or you will be ruined. How shameful, how abominable of you! So + the landlady would not admit you last night, and you spent the night on + the doorstep? Oh, I know all about it. Yet if only you could have seen my + agony when I heard the news!... Come and see me, Makar Alexievitch, and we + will once more be happy together. Yes, we will read together, and talk of + old times, and Thedora shall tell you of her pilgrimages in former days. + For God’s sake beloved, do not ruin both yourself and me. I live for you + alone; it is for your sake alone that I am still here. Be your better self + once more—the self which still can remain firm in the face of + misfortune. Poverty is no crime; always remember that. After all, why + should we despair? Our present difficulties will pass away, and God will + right us. Only be brave. I send you two grivenniks for the purchase of + some tobacco or anything else that you need; but, for the love of heaven, + do not spend the money foolishly. Come you and see me soon; come without + fail. Perhaps you may be ashamed to meet me, as you were before, but you + NEED not feel like that—such shame would be misplaced. Only do bring + with you sincere repentance and trust in God, who orders all things for + the best. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 19th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,-Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my darling—I + AM ashamed. At the same time, what is there in all this? Why should we not + be cheerful again? Why should I mind the soles of my feet coming through + my boots? The sole of one’s foot is a mere bagatelle—it will never + be anything but just a base, dirty sole. And shoes do not matter, either. + The Greek sages used to walk about without them, so why should we coddle + ourselves with such things? Yet why, also, should I be insulted and + despised because of them? Tell Thedora that she is a rubbishy, tiresome, + gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly foolish one. As for my + grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, inasmuch as I am not such an + old man as you think. Emelia sends you his greeting. You write that you + are in great distress, and have been weeping. Well, I too am in great + distress, and have been weeping. Nay, nay. I wish you the best of health + and happiness, even as I am well and happy myself, so long as I may + remain, my darling,—Your friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 21st. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAR AND KIND BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I feel that I am guilty, I feel + that I have sinned against you. Yet also I feel, from what you say, that + it is no use for me so to feel. Even before I had sinned I felt as I do + now; but I gave way to despair, and the more so as recognised my fault. + Darling, I am not cruel or hardhearted. To rend your little soul would be + the act of a blood-thirsty tiger, whereas I have the heart of a sheep. You + yourself know that I am not addicted to bloodthirstiness, and therefore + that I cannot really be guilty of the fault in question, seeing that + neither my mind nor my heart have participated in it. + Nor can I understand wherein the guilt lies. To me it is all a mystery. + When you sent me those thirty kopecks, and thereafter those two + grivenniks, my heart sank within me as I looked at the poor little money. + To think that though you had burned your hand, and would soon be hungry, + you could write to me that I was to buy tobacco! What was I to do? + Remorselessly to rob you, an orphan, as any brigand might do? I felt + greatly depressed, dearest. That is to say, persuaded that I should never + do any good with my life, and that I was inferior even to the sole of my + own boot, I took it into my head that it was absurd for me to aspire at + all—rather, that I ought to account myself a disgrace and an + abomination. Once a man has lost his self-respect, and has decided to + abjure his better qualities and human dignity, he falls headlong, and + cannot choose but do so. It is decreed of fate, and therefore I am not + guilty in this respect. + That evening I went out merely to get a breath of fresh air, but one thing + followed another—the weather was cold, all nature was looking + mournful, and I had fallen in with Emelia. This man had spent everything + that he possessed, and, at the time I met him, had not for two days tasted + a crust of bread. He had tried to raise money by pawning, but what + articles he had for the purpose had been refused by the pawnbrokers. It + was more from sympathy for a fellow-man than from any liking for the + individual that I yielded. That is how the fault arose, dearest. + He spoke of you, and I mingled my tears with his. Yes, he is a man of + kind, kind heart—a man of deep feeling. I often feel as he did, + dearest, and, in addition, I know how beholden to you I am. As soon as + ever I got to know you I began both to realise myself and to love you; for + until you came into my life I had been a lonely man—I had been, as + it were, asleep rather than alive. In former days my rascally colleagues + used to tell me that I was unfit even to be seen; in fact, they so + disliked me that at length I began to dislike myself, for, being + frequently told that I was stupid, I began to believe that I really was + so. But the instant that YOU came into my life, you lightened the dark + places in it, you lightened both my heart and my soul. Gradually, I gained + rest of spirit, until I had come to see that I was no worse than other + men, and that, though I had neither style nor brilliancy nor polish, I was + still a MAN as regards my thoughts and feelings. But now, alas! pursued + and scorned of fate, I have again allowed myself to abjure my own dignity. + Oppressed of misfortune, I have lost my courage. Here is my confession to + you, dearest. With tears I beseech you not to inquire further into the + matter, for my heart is breaking, and life has grown indeed hard and + bitter for me—Beloved, I offer you my respect, and remain ever your + faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 3rd. + </h2> + <p> + The reason why I did not finish my last letter, Makar Alexievitch, was + that I found it so difficult to write. There are moments when I am glad to + be alone—to grieve and repine without any one to share my sorrow: + and those moments are beginning to come upon me with ever-increasing + frequency. Always in my reminiscences I find something which is + inexplicable, yet strongly attractive—so much so that for hours + together I remain insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. + Indeed, in my present life there is not a single impression that I + encounter—pleasant or the reverse—which does not recall to my + mind something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly is this + the case with regard to my childhood, my golden childhood. Yet such + moments always leave me depressed. They render me weak, and exhaust my + powers of fancy; with the result that my health, already not good, grows + steadily worse. + </p> + <p> + However, this morning it is a fine, fresh, cloudless day, such as we + seldom get in autumn. The air has revived me and I greet it with joy. Yet + to think that already the fall of the year has come! How I used to love + the country in autumn! Then but a child, I was yet a sensitive being who + loved autumn evenings better than autumn mornings. I remember how beside + our house, at the foot of a hill, there lay a large pond, and how the pond—I + can see it even now!—shone with a broad, level surface that was as + clear as crystal. On still evenings this pond would be at rest, and not a + rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks and overhung the + motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to seem, yet how cold! The + dew would be falling upon the turf, lights would be beginning to shine + forth from the huts on the pond’s margin, and the cattle would be wending + their way home. Then quietly I would slip out of the house to look at my + beloved pond, and forget myself in contemplation. Here and there a + fisherman’s bundle of brushwood would be burning at the water’s edge, and + sending its light far and wide over the surface. Above, the sky would be + of a cold blue colour, save for a fringe of flame-coloured streaks on the + horizon that kept turning ever paler and paler; and when the moon had come + out there would be wafted through the limpid air the sounds of a + frightened bird fluttering, of a bulrush rubbing against its fellows in + the gentle breeze, and of a fish rising with a splash. Over the dark water + there would gather a thin, transparent mist; and though, in the distance, + night would be looming, and seemingly enveloping the entire horizon, + everything closer at hand would be standing out as though shaped with a + chisel—banks, boats, little islands, and all. Beside the margin a + derelict barrel would be turning over and over in the water; a switch of + laburnum, with yellowing leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; + and a belated gull would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise + once more, and disappear into the mist. How I would watch and listen to + these things! How strangely good they all would seem! But I was a mere + infant in those days—a mere child. + </p> + <p> + Yes, truly I loved autumn-tide—the late autumn when the crops are + garnered, and field work is ended, and the evening gatherings in the huts + have begun, and everyone is awaiting winter. Then does everything become + more mysterious, the sky frowns with clouds, yellow leaves strew the paths + at the edge of the naked forest, and the forest itself turns black and + blue—more especially at eventide when damp fog is spreading and the + trees glimmer in the depths like giants, like formless, weird phantoms. + Perhaps one may be out late, and had got separated from one’s companions. + Oh horrors! Suddenly one starts and trembles as one seems to see a + strange-looking being peering from out of the darkness of a hollow tree, + while all the while the wind is moaning and rattling and howling through + the forest—moaning with a hungry sound as it strips the leaves from + the bare boughs, and whirls them into the air. High over the tree-tops, in + a widespread, trailing, noisy crew, there fly, with resounding cries, + flocks of birds which seem to darken and overlay the very heavens. Then a + strange feeling comes over one, until one seems to hear the voice of some + one whispering: “Run, run, little child! Do not be out late, for this + place will soon have become dreadful! Run, little child! Run!” And at the + words terror will possess one’s soul, and one will rush and rush until + one’s breath is spent—until, panting, one has reached home. + At home, however, all will look bright and bustling as we children are set + to shell peas or poppies, and the damp twigs crackle in the stove, and our + mother comes to look fondly at our work, and our old nurse, Iliana, tells + us stories of bygone days, or terrible legends concerning wizards and dead + men. At the recital we little ones will press closer to one another, yet + smile as we do so; when suddenly, everyone becomes silent. Surely somebody + has knocked at the door?... But nay, nay; it is only the sound of + Frolovna’s spinning-wheel. What shouts of laughter arise! Later one will + be unable to sleep for fear of the strange dreams which come to visit one; + or, if one falls asleep, one will soon wake again, and, afraid to stir, + lie quaking under the coverlet until dawn. And in the morning, one will + arise as fresh as a lark and look at the window, and see the fields + overlaid with hoarfrost, and fine icicles hanging from the naked branches, + and the pond covered over with ice as thin as paper, and a white steam + rising from the surface, and birds flying overhead with cheerful cries. + Next, as the sun rises, he throws his glittering beams everywhere, and + melts the thin, glassy ice until the whole scene has come to look bright + and clear and exhilarating; and as the fire begins to crackle again in the + stove, we sit down to the tea-urn, while, chilled with the night cold, our + black dog, Polkan, will look in at us through the window, and wag his tail + with a cheerful air. Presently, a peasant will pass the window in his cart + bound for the forest to cut firewood, and the whole party will feel merry + and contented together. Abundant grain lies stored in the byres, and great + stacks of wheat are glowing comfortably in the morning sunlight. Everyone + is quiet and happy, for God has blessed us with a bounteous harvest, and + we know that there will be abundance of food for the wintertide. Yes, the + peasant may rest assured that his family will not want for aught. Song and + dance will arise at night from the village girls, and on festival days + everyone will repair to God’s house to thank Him with grateful tears for + what He has done.... Ah, a golden time was my time of childhood!... + </p> + <p> + Carried away by these memories, I could weep like a child. Everything, + everything comes back so clearly to my recollection! The past stands out + so vividly before me! Yet in the present everything looks dim and dark! + How will it all end?—how? Do you know, I have a feeling, a sort of + sure premonition, that I am going to die this coming autumn; for I feel + terribly, oh so terribly ill! Often do I think of death, yet feel that I + should not like to die here and be laid to rest in the soil of St. + Petersburg. Once more I have had to take to my bed, as I did last spring, + for I have never really recovered. Indeed I feel so depressed! Thedora has + gone out for the day, and I am alone. For a long while past I have been + afraid to be left by myself, for I keep fancying that there is someone + else in the room, and that that someone is speaking to me. Especially do I + fancy this when I have gone off into a reverie, and then suddenly awoken + from it, and am feeling bewildered. That is why I have made this letter + such a long one; for, when I am writing, the mood passes away. Goodbye. I + have neither time nor paper left for more, and must close. Of the money + which I saved to buy a new dress and hat, there remains but a single + rouble; but, I am glad that you have been able to pay your landlady two + roubles, for they will keep her tongue quiet for a time. And you must + repair your wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + Goodbye once more. I am so tired! Nor can I think why I am growing so weak—why + it is that even the smallest task now wearies me? Even if work should come + my way, how am I to do it? That is what worries me above all things. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 5th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA,—Today I have undergone a variety of experiences. + In the first place, my head has been aching, and towards evening I went + out to get a breath of fresh air along the Fontanka Canal. The weather was + dull and damp, and even by six o’clock, darkness had begun to set in. + True, rain was not actually falling, but only a mist like rain, while the + sky was streaked with masses of trailing cloud. Crowds of people were + hurrying along Naberezhnaia Street, with faces that looked strange and + dejected. There were drunken peasants; snub-nosed old harridans in + slippers; bareheaded artisans; cab drivers; every species of beggar; boys; + a locksmith’s apprentice in a striped smock, with lean, emaciated features + which seemed to have been washed in rancid oil; an ex-soldier who was + offering penknives and copper rings for sale; and so on, and so on. It was + the hour when one would expect to meet no other folk than these. And what + a quantity of boats there were on the canal. It made one wonder how they + could all find room there. On every bridge were old women selling damp + gingerbread or withered apples, and every woman looked as damp and dirty + as her wares. In short, the Fontanka is a saddening spot for a walk, for + there is wet granite under one’s feet, and tall, dingy buildings on either + side of one, and wet mist below and wet mist above. Yes, all was dark and + gloomy there this evening. + </p> + <p> + By the time I had returned to Gorokhovaia Street darkness had fallen and + the lamps had been lit. However, I did not linger long in that particular + spot, for Gorokhovaia Street is too noisy a place. But what sumptuous + shops and stores it contains! Everything sparkles and glitters, and the + windows are full of nothing but bright colours and materials and hats of + different shapes. One might think that they were decked merely for + display; but no,—people buy these things, and give them to their + wives! Yes, it IS a sumptuous place. Hordes of German hucksters are there, + as well as quite respectable traders. And the quantities of carriages + which pass along the street! One marvels that the pavement can support so + many splendid vehicles, with windows like crystal, linings made of silk + and velvet, and lacqueys dressed in epaulets and wearing swords! Into some + of them I glanced, and saw that they contained ladies of various ages. + Perhaps they were princesses and countesses! Probably at that hour such + folk would be hastening to balls and other gatherings. In fact, it was + interesting to be able to look so closely at a princess or a great lady. + They were all very fine. At all events, I had never before seen such + persons as I beheld in those carriages.... + </p> + <p> + Then I thought of you. Ah, my own, my darling, it is often that I think of + you and feel my heart sink. How is it that YOU are so unfortunate, + Barbara? How is it that YOU are so much worse off than other people? In my + eyes you are kind-hearted, beautiful, and clever—why, then, has such + an evil fate fallen to your lot? How comes it that you are left desolate—you, + so good a human being! While to others happiness comes without an + invitation at all? Yes, I know—I know it well—that I ought not + to say it, for to do so savours of free-thought; but why should that + raven, Fate, croak out upon the fortunes of one person while she is yet in + her mother’s womb, while another person it permits to go forth in + happiness from the home which has reared her? To even an idiot of an + Ivanushka such happiness is sometimes granted. “You, you fool Ivanushka,” + says Fate, “shall succeed to your grandfather’s money-bags, and eat, + drink, and be merry; whereas YOU (such and such another one) shall do no + more than lick the dish, since that is all that you are good for.” Yes, I + know that it is wrong to hold such opinions, but involuntarily the sin of + so doing grows upon one’s soul. Nevertheless, it is you, my darling, who + ought to be riding in one of those carriages. Generals would have come + seeking your favour, and, instead of being clad in a humble cotton dress, + you would have been walking in silken and golden attire. Then you would + not have been thin and wan as now, but fresh and plump and rosy-cheeked as + a figure on a sugar-cake. Then should I too have been happy—happy if + only I could look at your lighted windows from the street, and watch your + shadow—happy if only I could think that you were well and happy, my + sweet little bird! Yet how are things in reality? Not only have evil folk + brought you to ruin, but there comes also an old rascal of a libertine to + insult you! Just because he struts about in a frockcoat, and can ogle you + through a gold-mounted lorgnette, the brute thinks that everything will + fall into his hands—that you are bound to listen to his insulting + condescension! Out upon him! But why is this? It is because you are an + orphan, it is because you are unprotected, it is because you have no + powerful friend to afford you the decent support which is your due. WHAT + do such facts matter to a man or to men to whom the insulting of an orphan + is an offence allowed? Such fellows are not men at all, but mere vermin, + no matter what they think themselves to be. Of that I am certain. Why, an + organ-grinder whom I met in Gorokhovaia Street would inspire more respect + than they do, for at least he walks about all day, and suffers hunger—at + least he looks for a stray, superfluous groat to earn him subsistence, and + is, therefore, a true gentleman, in that he supports himself. To beg alms + he would be ashamed; and, moreover, he works for the benefit of mankind + just as does a factory machine. “So far as in me lies,” says he, “I will + give you pleasure.” True, he is a pauper, and nothing but a pauper; but, + at least he is an HONOURABLE pauper. Though tired and hungry, he still + goes on working—working in his own peculiar fashion, yet still doing + honest labour. Yes, many a decent fellow whose labour may be + disproportionate to its utility pulls the forelock to no one, and begs his + bread of no one. I myself resemble that organ-grinder. That is to say, + though not exactly he, I resemble him in this respect, that I work + according to my capabilities, and so far as in me lies. More could be + asked of no one; nor ought I to be adjudged to do more. + </p> + <p> + Apropos of the organ-grinder, I may tell you, dearest, that today I + experienced a double misfortune. As I was looking at the grinder, certain + thoughts entered my head and I stood wrapped in a reverie. Some cabmen + also had halted at the spot, as well as a young girl, with a yet smaller + girl who was dressed in rags and tatters. These people had halted there to + listen to the organ-grinder, who was playing in front of some one’s + windows. Next, I caught sight of a little urchin of about ten—a boy + who would have been good-looking but for the fact that his face was + pinched and sickly. Almost barefooted, and clad only in a shirt, he was + standing agape to listen to the music—a pitiful childish figure. + Nearer to the grinder a few more urchins were dancing, but in the case of + this lad his hands and feet looked numbed, and he kept biting the end of + his sleeve and shivering. Also, I noticed that in his hands he had a paper + of some sort. Presently a gentleman came by, and tossed the grinder a + small coin, which fell straight into a box adorned with a representation + of a Frenchman and some ladies. The instant he heard the rattle of the + coin, the boy started, looked timidly round, and evidently made up his + mind that I had thrown the money; whereupon, he ran to me with his little + hands all shaking, and said in a tremulous voice as he proffered me his + paper: “Pl-please sign this.” I turned over the paper, and saw that there + was written on it what is usual under such circumstances. “Kind friends I + am a sick mother with three hungry children. Pray help me. Though soon I + shall be dead, yet, if you will not forget my little ones in this world, + neither will I forget you in the world that is to come.” The thing seemed + clear enough; it was a matter of life and death. Yet what was I to give + the lad? Well, I gave him nothing. But my heart ached for him. I am + certain that, shivering with cold though he was, and perhaps hungry, the + poor lad was not lying. No, no, he was not lying. + The shameful point is that so many mothers take no care of their children, + but send them out, half-clad, into the cold. Perhaps this lad’s mother + also was a feckless old woman, and devoid of character? Or perhaps she had + no one to work for her, but was forced to sit with her legs crossed—a + veritable invalid? Or perhaps she was just an old rogue who was in the + habit of sending out pinched and hungry boys to deceive the public? What + would such a boy learn from begging letters? His heart would soon be + rendered callous, for, as he ran about begging, people would pass him by + and give him nothing. Yes, their hearts would be as stone, and their + replies rough and harsh. “Away with you!” they would say. “You are seeking + but to trick us.” He would hear that from every one, and his heart would + grow hard, and he would shiver in vain with the cold, like some poor + little fledgling that has fallen out of the nest. His hands and feet would + be freezing, and his breath coming with difficulty; until, look you, he + would begin to cough, and disease, like an unclean parasite, would worm + its way into his breast until death itself had overtaken him—overtaken + him in some foetid corner whence there was no chance of escape. Yes, that + is what his life would become. + There are many such cases. Ah, Barbara, it is hard to hear “For Christ’s + sake!” and yet pass the suppliant by and give nothing, or say merely: “May + the Lord give unto you!” Of course, SOME supplications mean nothing (for + supplications differ greatly in character). Occasionally supplications are + long, drawn-out and drawling, stereotyped and mechanical—they are + purely begging supplications. Requests of this kind it is less hard to + refuse, for they are purely professional and of long standing. “The beggar + is overdoing it,” one thinks to oneself. “He knows the trick too well.” + But there are other supplications which voice a strange, hoarse, + unaccustomed note, like that today when I took the poor boy’s paper. He + had been standing by the kerbstone without speaking to anybody—save + that at last to myself he said, “For the love of Christ give me a groat!” + in a voice so hoarse and broken that I started, and felt a queer sensation + in my heart, although I did not give him a groat. Indeed, I had not a + groat on me. Rich folk dislike hearing poor people complain of their + poverty. “They disturb us,” they say, “and are impertinent as well. Why + should poverty be so impertinent? Why should its hungry moans prevent us + from sleeping?” + </p> + <p> + To tell you the truth, my darling, I have written the foregoing not merely + to relieve my feelings, but, also, still more, to give you an example of + the excellent style in which I can write. You yourself will recognise that + my style was formed long ago, but of late such fits of despondency have + seized upon me that my style has begun to correspond to my feelings; and + though I know that such correspondence gains one little, it at least + renders one a certain justice. For not unfrequently it happens that, for + some reason or another, one feels abased, and inclined to value oneself at + nothing, and to account oneself lower than a dishclout; but this merely + arises from the fact that at the time one is feeling harassed and + depressed, like the poor boy who today asked of me alms. Let me tell you + an allegory, dearest, and do you hearken to it. Often, as I hasten to the + office in the morning, I look around me at the city—I watch it + awaking, getting out of bed, lighting its fires, cooking its breakfast, + and becoming vocal; and at the sight, I begin to feel smaller, as though + some one had dealt me a rap on my inquisitive nose. Yes, at such times I + slink along with a sense of utter humiliation in my heart. For one would + have but to see what is passing within those great, black, grimy houses of + the capital, and to penetrate within their walls, for one at once to + realise what good reason there is for self-depredation and + heart-searching. Of course, you will note that I am speaking figuratively + rather than literally. + </p> + <p> + Let us look at what is passing within those houses. In some dingy corner, + perhaps, in some damp kennel which is supposed to be a room, an artisan + has just awakened from sleep. All night he has dreamt—IF such an + insignificant fellow is capable of dreaming?—about the shoes which + last night he mechanically cut out. He is a master-shoemaker, you see, and + therefore able to think of nothing but his one subject of interest. Nearby + are some squalling children and a hungry wife. Nor is he the only man that + has to greet the day in this fashion. Indeed, the incident would be + nothing—it would not be worth writing about, save for another + circumstance. In that same house ANOTHER person—a person of great + wealth—may also have been dreaming of shoes; but, of shoes of a very + different pattern and fashion (in a manner of speaking, if you understand + my metaphor, we are all of us shoemakers). This, again, would be nothing, + were it not that the rich person has no one to whisper in his ear: “Why + dost thou think of such things? Why dost thou think of thyself alone, and + live only for thyself—thou who art not a shoemaker? THY children are + not ailing. THY wife is not hungry. Look around thee. Can’st thou not find + a subject more fitting for thy thoughts than thy shoes?” That is what I + want to say to you in allegorical language, Barbara. Maybe it savours a + little of free-thought, dearest; but, such ideas WILL keep arising in my + mind and finding utterance in impetuous speech. Why, therefore, should one + not value oneself at a groat as one listens in fear and trembling to the + roar and turmoil of the city? Maybe you think that I am exaggerating + things—that this is a mere whim of mine, or that I am quoting from a + book? No, no, Barbara. You may rest assured that it is not so. + Exaggeration I abhor, with whims I have nothing to do, and of quotation I + am guiltless. + </p> + <p> + I arrived home today in a melancholy mood. Sitting down to the table, I + had warmed myself some tea, and was about to drink a second glass of it, + when there entered Gorshkov, the poor lodger. Already, this morning, I had + noticed that he was hovering around the other lodgers, and also seeming to + want to speak to myself. In passing I may say that his circumstances are + infinitely worse than my own; for, only think of it, he has a wife and + children! Indeed, if I were he, I do not know what I should do. Well, he + entered my room, and bowed to me with the pus standing, as usual, in drops + on his eyelashes, his feet shuffling about, and his tongue unable, at + first, to articulate a word. I motioned him to a chair (it was a + dilapidated enough one, but I had no other), and asked him to have a glass + of tea. To this he demurred—for quite a long time he demurred, but + at length he accepted the offer. Next, he was for drinking the tea without + sugar, and renewed his excuses, but upon the sugar I insisted. After long + resistance and many refusals, he DID consent to take some, but only the + smallest possible lump; after which, he assured me that his tea was + perfectly sweet. To what depths of humility can poverty reduce a man! + “Well, what is it, my good sir?” I inquired of him; whereupon he replied: + “It is this, Makar Alexievitch. You have once before been my benefactor. + Pray again show me the charity of God, and assist my unfortunate family. + My wife and children have nothing to eat. To think that a father should + have to say this!” I was about to speak again when he interrupted me. “You + see,” he continued, “I am afraid of the other lodgers here. That is to + say, I am not so much afraid of, as ashamed to address them, for they are + a proud, conceited lot of men. Nor would I have troubled even you, my + friend and former benefactor, were it not that I know that you yourself + have experienced misfortune and are in debt; wherefore, I have ventured to + come and make this request of you, in that I know you not only to be + kind-hearted, but also to be in need, and for that reason the more likely + to sympathise with me in my distress.” To this he added an apology for his + awkwardness and presumption. I replied that, glad though I should have + been to serve him, I had nothing, absolutely nothing, at my disposal. “Ah, + Makar Alexievitch,” he went on, “surely it is not much that I am asking of + you? My-my wife and children are starving. C-could you not afford me just + a grivennik?” At that my heart contracted, “How these people put me to + shame!” thought I. But I had only twenty kopecks left, and upon them I had + been counting for meeting my most pressing requirements. “No, good sir, I + cannot,” said I. “Well, what you will,” he persisted. “Perhaps ten + kopecks?” Well I got out my cash-box, and gave him the twenty. It was a + good deed. To think that such poverty should exist! Then I had some + further talk with him. “How is it,” I asked him, “that, though you are in + such straits, you have hired a room at five roubles?” He replied that + though, when he engaged the room six months ago, he paid three months’ + rent in advance, his affairs had subsequently turned out badly, and never + righted themselves since. You see, Barbara, he was sued at law by a + merchant who had defrauded the Treasury in the matter of a contract. When + the fraud was discovered the merchant was prosecuted, but the transactions + in which he had engaged involved Gorshkov, although the latter had been + guilty only of negligence, want of prudence, and culpable indifference to + the Treasury’s interests. True, the affair had taken place some years ago, + but various obstacles had since combined to thwart Gorshkov. “Of the + disgrace put upon me,” said he to me, “I am innocent. True, I to a certain + extent disobeyed orders, but never did I commit theft or embezzlement.” + Nevertheless the affair lost him his character. He was dismissed the + service, and though not adjudged capitally guilty, has been unable since + to recover from the merchant a large sum of money which is his by right, + as spared to him (Gorshkov) by the legal tribunal. True, the tribunal in + question did not altogether believe in Gorshkov, but I do so. The matter + is of a nature so complex and crooked that probably a hundred years would + be insufficient to unravel it; and, though it has now to a certain extent + been cleared up, the merchant still holds the key to the situation. + Personally I side with Gorshkov, and am very sorry for him. Though lacking + a post of any kind, he still refuses to despair, though his resources are + completely exhausted. Yes, it is a tangled affair, and meanwhile he must + live, for, unfortunately, another child which has been born to him has + entailed upon the family fresh expenses. Also, another of his children + recently fell ill and died—which meant yet further expense. Lastly, + not only is his wife in bad health, but he himself is suffering from a + complaint of long standing. In short, he has had a very great deal to + undergo. Yet he declares that daily he expects a favourable issue to his + affair—that he has no doubt of it whatever. I am terribly sorry for + him, and said what I could to give him comfort, for he is a man who has + been much bullied and misled. He had come to me for protection from his + troubles, so I did my best to soothe him. Now, goodbye, my darling. May + Christ watch over you and preserve your health. Dearest one, even to think + of you is like medicine to my ailing soul. Though I suffer for you, I at + least suffer gladly.—Your true friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 9th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I am beside myself as I take up my + pen, for a most terrible thing has happened. My head is whirling round. + Ah, beloved, how am I to tell you about it all? I had never foreseen what + has happened. But no—I cannot say that I had NEVER foreseen it, for + my mind DID get an inkling of what was coming, through my seeing something + very similar to it in a dream. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you the whole story—simply, and as God may put it into + my heart. Today I went to the office as usual, and, upon arrival, sat down + to write. You must know that I had been engaged on the same sort of work + yesterday, and that, while executing it, I had been approached by Timothei + Ivanovitch with an urgent request for a particular document. “Makar + Alexievitch,” he had said, “pray copy this out for me. Copy it as quickly + and as carefully as you can, for it will require to be signed today.” Also + let me tell you, dearest, that yesterday I had not been feeling myself, + nor able to look at anything. I had been troubled with grave depression—my + breast had felt chilled, and my head clouded. All the while I had been + thinking of you, my darling. Well, I set to work upon the copying, and + executed it cleanly and well, except for the fact that, whether the devil + confused my mind, or a mysterious fate so ordained, or the occurrence was + simply bound to happen, I left out a whole line of the document, and thus + made nonsense of it! The work had been given me too late for signature + last night, so it went before his Excellency this morning. I reached the + office at my usual hour, and sat down beside Emelia Ivanovitch. Here I may + remark that for a long time past I have been feeling twice as shy and + diffident as I used to do; I have been finding it impossible to look + people in the face. Let only a chair creak, and I become more dead than + alive. Today, therefore, I crept humbly to my seat and sat down in such a + crouching posture that Efim Akimovitch (the most touchy man in the world) + said to me sotto voce: “What on earth makes you sit like that, Makar + Alexievitch?” Then he pulled such a grimace that everyone near us rocked + with laughter at my expense. I stopped my ears, frowned, and sat without + moving, for I found this the best method of putting a stop to such + merriment. All at once I heard a bustle and a commotion and the sound of + someone running towards us. Did my ears deceive me? It was I who was being + summoned in peremptory tones! My heart started to tremble within me, + though I could not say why. I only know that never in my life before had + it trembled as it did then. Still I clung to my chair—and at that + moment was hardly myself at all. The voices were coming nearer and nearer, + until they were shouting in my ear: “Dievushkin! Dievushkin! Where is + Dievushkin?” Then at length I raised my eyes, and saw before me Evstafi + Ivanovitch. He said to me: “Makar Alexievitch, go at once to his + Excellency. You have made a mistake in a document.” That was all, but it + was enough, was it not? I felt dead and cold as ice—I felt + absolutely deprived of the power of sensation; but, I rose from my seat + and went whither I had been bidden. Through one room, through two rooms, + through three rooms I passed, until I was conducted into his Excellency’s + cabinet itself. Of my thoughts at that moment I can give no exact account. + I merely saw his Excellency standing before me, with a knot of people + around him. I have an idea that I did not salute him—that I forgot + to do so. Indeed, so panic-stricken was I, that my teeth were chattering + and my knees knocking together. In the first place, I was greatly ashamed + of my appearance (a glance into a mirror on the right had frightened me + with the reflection of myself that it presented), and, in the second + place, I had always been accustomed to comport myself as though no such + person as I existed. Probably his Excellency had never before known that I + was even alive. Of course, he might have heard, in passing, that there was + a man named Dievushkin in his department; but never for a moment had he + had any intercourse with me. + </p> + <p> + He began angrily: “What is this you have done, sir? Why are you not more + careful? The document was wanted in a hurry, and you have gone and spoiled + it. What do you think of it?”—the last being addressed to Evstafi + Ivanovitch. More I did not hear, except for some flying exclamations of + “What negligence and carelessness! How awkward this is!” and so on. I + opened my mouth to say something or other; I tried to beg pardon, but + could not. To attempt to leave the room, I had not the hardihood. Then + there happened something the recollection of which causes the pen to + tremble in my hand with shame. A button of mine—the devil take it!—a + button of mine that was hanging by a single thread suddenly broke off, and + hopped and skipped and rattled and rolled until it had reached the feet of + his Excellency himself—this amid a profound general silence! THAT + was what came of my intended self-justification and plea for mercy! THAT + was the only answer that I had to return to my chief! + The sequel I shudder to relate. At once his Excellency’s attention became + drawn to my figure and costume. I remembered what I had seen in the + mirror, and hastened to pursue the button. Obstinacy of a sort seized upon + me, and I did my best to arrest the thing, but it slipped away, and kept + turning over and over, so that I could not grasp it, and made a sad + spectacle of myself with my awkwardness. Then there came over me a feeling + that my last remaining strength was about to leave me, and that all, all + was lost—reputation, manhood, everything! In both ears I seemed to + hear the voices of Theresa and Phaldoni. At length, however, I grasped the + button, and, raising and straightening myself, stood humbly with clasped + hands—looking a veritable fool! But no. First of all I tried to + attach the button to the ragged threads, and smiled each time that it + broke away from them, and smiled again. In the beginning his Excellency + had turned away, but now he threw me another glance, and I heard him say + to Evstafi Ivanovitch: “What on earth is the matter with the fellow? Look + at the figure he cuts! Who to God is he?” Ah, beloved, only to hear that, + “Who to God is he?” Truly I had made myself a marked man! In reply to his + Excellency Evstafi murmured: “He is no one of any note, though his + character is good. Besides, his salary is sufficient as the scale goes.” + “Very well, then; but help him out of his difficulties somehow,” said his + Excellency. “Give him a trifle of salary in advance.” “It is all + forestalled,” was the reply. “He drew it some time ago. But his record is + good. There is nothing against him.” At this I felt as though I were in + Hell fire. I could actually have died! “Well, well,” said his Excellency, + “let him copy out the document a second time. Dievushkin, come here. You + are to make another copy of this paper, and to make it as quickly as + possible.” With that he turned to some other officials present, issued to + them a few orders, and the company dispersed. No sooner had they done so + than his Excellency hurriedly pulled out a pocket-book, took thence a note + for a hundred roubles, and, with the words, “Take this. It is as much as I + can afford. Treat it as you like,” placed the money in my hand! At this, + dearest, I started and trembled, for I was moved to my very soul. What + next I did I hardly know, except that I know that I seized his Excellency + by the hand. But he only grew very red, and then—no, I am not + departing by a hair’s-breadth from the truth—it is true—that + he took this unworthy hand in his, and shook it! Yes, he took this hand of + mine in his, and shook it, as though I had been his equal, as though I had + been a general like himself! “Go now,” he said. “This is all that I can do + for you. Make no further mistakes, and I will overlook your fault.” + </p> + <p> + What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and had I any + children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God for his + Excellency. I should say to my children: “For your father you need not + pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until your lives shall end.” + Yes, dear one—I tell you this in all solemnity, so hearken well unto + my words—that though, during these cruel days of our adversity, I + have nearly died of distress of soul at the sight of you and your poverty, + as well as at the sight of myself and my abasement and helplessness, I yet + care less for the hundred roubles which his Excellency has given me than + for the fact that he was good enough to take the hand of a wretched + drunkard in his own and press it. By that act he restored me to myself. By + that act he revived my courage, he made life forever sweet to me.... Yes, + sure am I that, sinner though I be before the Almighty, my prayers for the + happiness and prosperity of his Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly + Throne!... + </p> + <p> + But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and distraught. My + heart is beating as though it would burst my breast, and all my body seems + weak.... I send you forty-five roubles in notes. Another twenty I shall + give to my landlady, and the remaining thirty-five I shall keep—twenty + for new clothes and fifteen for actual living expenses. But these + experiences of the morning have shaken me to the core, and I must rest + awhile. It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in jerks—deep + down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling.... I will come and + see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching with these various + sensations. God sees all things, my darling, my priceless treasure!—Your + steadfast friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 10th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I am unspeakably rejoiced at your good + fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. Now, take a + rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money to no advantage. Live + as quietly and as frugally as possible, and from today begin always to set + aside something, lest misfortune again overtake you. Do not, for God’s + sake, worry yourself—Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have you + sent me so much money? I really do not need it—what I had already + would have been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further + funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping before long + to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at least TWENTY roubles + will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but the + remainder shall be returned to you. Pray take care of it, Makar + Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life continue peacefully, and may you + preserve your health and spirits. I would have written to you at greater + length had I not felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left my bed. I + am glad that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you MUST pay me a + visit. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 11th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I implore you not to leave me now that + I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora says, and I + will do anything in the world for you. I will behave myself better, even + if only out of respect for his Excellency, and guard my every action. Once + more we will exchange cheerful letters with one another, and make mutual + confidence of our thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that we shall + know any more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily and + comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books.... Angel of my heart, + a great change has taken place in my fortunes—a change very much for + the better. My landlady has become more accommodating; Theresa has + recovered her senses; even Phaldoni springs to do my bidding. Likewise, I + have made my peace with Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own accord, + the moment that he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt that he + is a good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that one hears of + him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had any intention of + putting me and yourself into a book. This he told me himself, and then + read to me his latest work. As for his calling me “Lovelace,” he had + intended no rudeness or indecency thereby. The term is merely one of + foreign derivation, meaning a clever fellow, or, in more literary and + elegant language, a gentleman with whom one must reckon. That is all; it + was a mere harmless jest, my beloved. Only ignorance made me lose my + temper, and I have expressed to him my regret.... How beautiful is the + weather today, my little Barbara! True, there was a slight frost in the + early morning, as though scattered through a sieve, but it was nothing, + and the breeze soon freshened the air. I went out to buy some shoes, and + obtained a splendid pair. Then, after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, + I read “The Daily Bee”. This reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you + the most important thing of all. It happened like this: + </p> + <p> + This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti Michaelovitch + concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the only person to whom he + has acted kindly and been charitable, for he is known to the whole world + for his goodness of heart. In many quarters his praises are to be heard; + in many quarters he has called forth tears of gratitude. Among other + things, he undertook the care of an orphaned girl, and married her to an + official, the son of a poor widow, and found this man place in a certain + chancellory, and in other ways benefited him. Well, dearest, I considered + it to be my duty to add my mite by publishing abroad the story of his + Excellency’s gracious treatment of myself. Accordingly, I related the + whole occurrence to my interlocutors, and concealed not a single detail. + In fact, I put my pride into my pocket—though why should I feel + ashamed of having been elated by such an occurrence? “Let it only be + noised afield,” said I to myself, and it will resound greatly to his + Excellency’s credit.—So I expressed myself enthusiastically on the + subject and never faltered. On the contrary, I felt proud to have such a + story to tell. I referred to every one concerned (except to yourself, of + course, dearest)—to my landlady, to Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to + Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my shoes! Some of those standing by + laughed—in fact every one present did so, but probably it was my own + figure or the incident of my shoes—more particularly the latter—that + excited merriment, for I am sure it was not meant ill-naturedly. My + hearers may have been young men, or well off; certainly they cannot have + been laughing with evil intent at what I had said. Anything against his + Excellency CANNOT have been in their thoughts. Eh, Barbara? + </p> + <p> + Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by recent + events.... Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? You must not expose + yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my spirits with your fears for + the future. Daily I pray to God on your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray to Him!... + Likewise, have you any woollen stockings to wear, and warm clothes + generally? Mind you, if there is anything you need, you must not hurt an + old man’s feelings by failing to apply to him for what you require. The + bad times are gone now, and the future is looking bright and fair. + </p> + <p> + But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, and can + no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually recover + ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days I never had a + kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, I was always + light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the Nevski Prospect, and meet + nice-looking people, and be happy all day. Yes, it was a glorious, a + glorious time! It was good to be alive, especially in St. Petersburg. Yet + it is but yesterday that I was beseeching God with tears to pardon me my + sins during the late sorrowful period—to pardon me my murmurings and + evil thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in my + prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you alone have + given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget that, dearest. Today + I gave each one of your letters a kiss.... Goodbye, beloved. I have been + told that there is going to be a sale of clothing somewhere in this + neighbourhood. Once more goodbye, goodbye, my angel—Yours in heart + and soul, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 15th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I am in terrible distress. I feel sure + that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved friend, is that + Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for Thedora has met him. He + was driving along in a drozhki, but, on meeting Thedora, he ordered the + coachman to stop, sprang out, and inquired of her where she was living; + but this she would not tell him. Next, he said with a smile that he knew + quite well who was living with her (evidently Anna Thedorovna had told + him); whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer, but then and there, in + the street, railed at and abused him—telling him that he was an + immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To this he replied that + a person who did not possess a groat must surely be rather badly off; to + which Thedora retorted that I could always either live by the labour of my + hands or marry—that it was not so much a question of my losing posts + as of my losing my happiness, the ruin of which had led almost to my + death. In reply he observed that, though I was still quite young, I seemed + to have lost my wits, and that my “virtue appeared to be under a cloud” (I + quote his exact words). Both I and Thedora had thought that he does not + know where I live; but, last night, just as I had left the house to make a + few purchases in the Gostinni Dvor, he appeared at our rooms (evidently he + had not wanted to find me at home), and put many questions to Thedora + concerning our way of living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up + with: “Who is this tchinovnik friend of yours?” At the moment you happened + to be passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and the + man peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to depart—telling + him that I was still ill from grief, and that it would give me great pain + to see him there; to which, after a pause, he replied that he had come + because he had had nothing better to do. Also, he was for giving Thedora + twenty-five roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What does it all + mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his getting to know + about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however, says that Aksinia, + her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her), is acquainted with a + laundress named Nastasia, and that this woman has a cousin in the position + of watchman to a department of which a certain friend of Anna Thedorovna’s + nephew forms one of the staff. Can it be, therefore, that an intrigue has + been hatched through THIS channel? But Thedora may be entirely mistaken. + We hardly know what to think. What if he should come again? The very + thought terrifies me. When Thedora told me of this last night such terror + seized upon me that I almost swooned away. What can the man be wanting? At + all events, I refuse to know such people. What have they to do with my + wretched self? Ah, how I am haunted with anxiety, for every moment I keep + thinking that Bwikov is at hand! WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has + fate in store for me? For Christ’s sake come and see me, Makar + Alexievitch! For Christ’s sake come and see me soon! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 18th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Today there took place in this house a + most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence. First + of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has been entirely absolved of + guilt. The decision has been long in coming, but this morning he went to + hear the final resolution read. It was entirely in his favour. Any + culpability which had been imputed to him for negligence and irregularity + was removed by the resolution. Likewise, he was authorised to recover of + the merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he stands entirely justified, and + has had his character cleansed from all stain. In short, he could not have + wished for a more complete vindication. When he arrived home at three + o’clock he was looking as white as a sheet, and his lips were quivering. + Yet there was a smile on his face as he embraced his wife and children. In + a body the rest of us ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by + the act. Bowing to us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I + thought, somehow, that he seemed to have grown taller and straighter, and + that the pus-drops seemed to have disappeared from his eyelashes. Yet how + agitated he was, poor fellow! He could not rest quietly for two minutes + together, but kept picking up and then dropping whatsoever came to his + hand, and bowing and smiling without intermission, and sitting down and + getting up, and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what + about his honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did talk—yes, + and weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain from tears; although + Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage Gorshkov) that honour mattered + nothing when one had nothing to eat, and that money was the chief thing in + the world, and that for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he slapped + Gorshkov on the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow seemed hurt + at this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw Rataziaev a + curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. ONCE upon a time he + would not have acted thus; but characters differ. For example, I myself + should have hesitated, at such a season of rejoicing, to seem proud, even + though excessive deference and civility at such a moment might have been + construed as a lapse both of moral courage and of mental vigour. However, + this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov said was: “Yes, money IS a + good thing, glory be to God!” In fact, the whole time that we remained in + his room he kept repeating to himself: “Glory be to God, glory be to God!” + His wife ordered a richer and more delicate meal than usual, and the + landlady herself cooked it, for at heart she is not a bad woman. But until + the meal was served Gorshkov could not remain still. He kept entering + everyone’s room in turn (whether invited thither or not), and, seating + himself smilingly upon a chair, would sometimes say something, and + sometimes not utter a word, but get up and go out again. In the naval + officer’s room he even took a pack of playing-cards into his hand, and was + thereupon invited to make a fourth in a game; but after losing a few + times, as well as making several blunders in his play, he abandoned the + pursuit. “No,” said he, “that is the sort of man that I am—that is + all that I am good for,” and departed. Next, encountering myself in the + corridor, he took my hands in his, and gazed into my face with a rather + curious air. Then he pressed my hands again, and moved away still smiling, + smiling, but in an odd, weary sort of manner, much as a corpse might + smile. Meanwhile his wife was weeping for joy, and everything in their + room was decked in holiday guise. Presently dinner was served, and after + they had dined Gorshkov said to his wife: “See now, dearest, I am going to + rest a little while;” and with that went to bed. Presently he called his + little daughter to his side, and, laying his hand upon the child’s head, + lay a long while looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and + asked her: “What of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?” whereupon his wife + crossed herself, and replied: “Why, our Petinka is dead!” “Yes, yes, I + know—of course,” said her husband. “Petinka is now in the Kingdom of + Heaven.” This showed his wife that her husband was not quite in his right + senses—that the recent occurrence had upset him; so she said: “My + dearest, you must sleep awhile.” “I will do so,” he replied, “—at + once—I am rather—” And he turned over, and lay silent for a + time. Then again he turned round and tried to say something, but his wife + could not hear what it was. “What do you say?” she inquired, but he made + no reply. Then again she waited a few moments until she thought to + herself, “He has gone to sleep,” and departed to spend an hour with the + landlady. At the end of that hour she returned—only to find that her + husband had not yet awoken, but was still lying motionless. “He is + sleeping very soundly,” she reflected as she sat down and began to work at + something or other. Since then she has told us that when half an hour or + so had elapsed she fell into a reverie. What she was thinking of she + cannot remember, save that she had forgotten altogether about her husband. + Then she awoke with a curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first + thing that struck her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at + the bed, she perceived her husband to be lying in the same position as + before. Thereupon she approached him, turned the coverlet back, and saw + that he was stiff and cold—that he had died suddenly, as though + smitten with a stroke. But of what precisely he died God only knows. The + affair has so terribly impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect + my thoughts. It would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so + simply—and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a fate, + what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and panic-stricken, + while his little daughter has run away somewhere to hide herself. In their + room, however, all is bustle and confusion, for the doctors are about to + make an autopsy on the corpse. But I cannot tell you things for certain; I + only know that I am most grieved, most grieved. How sad to think that one + never knows what even a day, what even an hour, may bring forth! One seems + to die to so little purpose!...—Your own + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 19th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to let you know that + Rataziaev has found me some work to do for a certain writer—the + latter having submitted to him a large manuscript. Glory be to God, for + this means a large amount of work to do. Yet, though the copy is wanted in + haste, the original is so carelessly written that I hardly know how to set + about my task. Indeed, certain parts of the manuscript are almost + undecipherable. I have agreed to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. + You see therefore (and this is my true reason for writing to you), that we + shall soon be receiving money from an extraneous source. Goodbye now, as I + must begin upon my labours.—Your sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 23rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I have not written to you these three + days past for the reason that I have been so worried and alarmed. + </p> + <p> + Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me. At the time I was alone, for + Thedora had gone out somewhere. As soon as I opened the door the sight of + him so terrified me that I stood rooted to the spot, and could feel myself + turning pale. Entering with his usual loud laugh, he took a chair, and sat + down. For a long while I could not collect my thoughts; I just sat where I + was, and went on with my work. Soon his smile faded, for my appearance + seemed somehow to have struck him. You see, of late I have grown thin, and + my eyes and cheeks have fallen in, and my face has become as white as a + sheet; so that anyone who knew me a year ago would scarcely recognise me + now. After a prolonged inspection, Bwikov seemed to recover his spirits, + for he said something to which I duly replied. Then again he laughed. Thus + he sat for a whole hour—talking to me the while, and asking me + questions about one thing and another. At length, just before he rose to + depart, he took me by the hand, and said (to quote his exact words): + “Between ourselves, Barbara Alexievna, that kinswoman of yours and my good + friend and acquaintance—I refer to Anna Thedorovna—is a very + bad woman,” (he also added a grosser term of opprobrium). “First of all + she led your cousin astray, and then she ruined yourself. I also have + behaved like a villain, but such is the way of the world.” Again he + laughed. Next, having remarked that, though not a master of eloquence, he + had always considered that obligations of gentility obliged him to have + with me a clear and outspoken explanation, he went on to say that he + sought my hand in marriage; that he looked upon it as a duty to restore to + me my honour; that he could offer me riches; that, after marriage, he + would take me to his country seat in the Steppes, where we would hunt + hares; that he intended never to visit St. Petersburg again, since + everything there was horrible, and he had to entertain a worthless nephew + whom he had sworn to disinherit in favour of a legal heir; and, finally, + that it was to obtain such a legal heir that he was seeking my hand in + marriage. Lastly, he remarked that I seemed to be living in very poor + circumstances (which was not surprising, said he, in view of the kennel + that I inhabited); that I should die if I remained a month longer in that + den; that all lodgings in St. Petersburg were detestable; and that he + would be glad to know if I was in want of anything. + </p> + <p> + So thunderstruck was I with the proposal that I could only burst into + tears. These tears he interpreted as a sign of gratitude, for he told me + that he had always felt assured of my good sense, cleverness, and + sensibility, but that hitherto he had hesitated to take this step until he + should have learned precisely how I was getting on. Next he asked me some + questions about YOU; saying that he had heard of you as a man of good + principle, and that since he was unwilling to remain your debtor, would a + sum of five hundred roubles repay you for all you had done for me? To this + I replied that your services to myself had been such as could never be + requited with money; whereupon, he exclaimed that I was talking rubbish + and nonsense; that evidently I was still young enough to read poetry; that + romances of this kind were the undoing of young girls, that books only + corrupted morality, and that, for his part, he could not abide them. “You + ought to live as long as I have done,” he added, “and THEN you will see + what men can be.” + With that he requested me to give his proposal my favourable consideration—saying + that he would not like me to take such an important step unguardedly, + since want of thought and impetuosity often spelt ruin to youthful + inexperience, but that he hoped to receive an answer in the affirmative. + “Otherwise,” said he, “I shall have no choice but to marry a certain + merchant’s daughter in Moscow, in order that I may keep my vow to deprive + my nephew of the inheritance.”—Then he pressed five hundred roubles + into my hand—to buy myself some bonbons, as he phrased it—and + wound up by saying that in the country I should grow as fat as a doughnut + or a cheese rolled in butter; that at the present moment he was extremely + busy; and that, deeply engaged in business though he had been all day, he + had snatched the present opportunity of paying me a visit. At length he + departed. + For a long time I sat plunged in reflection. Great though my distress of + mind was, I soon arrived at a decision.... My friend, I am going to marry + this man; I have no choice but to accept his proposal. If anyone could + save me from this squalor, and restore to me my good name, and avert from + me future poverty and want and misfortune, he is the man to do it. What + else have I to look for from the future? What more am I to ask of fate? + Thedora declares that one need NEVER lose one’s happiness; but what, I ask + HER, can be called happiness under such circumstances as mine? At all + events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing else to be + done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot go on working + forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am worn to a shadow with + grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly by nature, I should merely be a + burden upon other folks. Of course this marriage will not bring me + paradise, but what else does there remain, my friend—what else does + there remain? What other choice is left? + </p> + <p> + I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted to think + the matter over alone. However, the decision which you have just read is + unalterable, and I am about to announce it to Bwikov himself, who in any + case has pressed me for a speedy reply, owing to the fact (so he says) + that his business will not wait nor allow him to remain here longer, and + that therefore, no trifle must be allowed to stand in its way. God alone + knows whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His holy, His + inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be + kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be able to + return that respect. What more could be looked for from such a marriage? + </p> + <p> + I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that you will + understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to divert me from my + intention, for all your efforts will be in vain. Think for a moment; weigh + in your heart for a moment all that has led me to take this step. At first + my anguish was extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I know not. + What must be must be, and as God may send.... + </p> + <p> + Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished. Otherwise + I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at the door!... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 23rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to reply to you—I + hasten to express to you my extreme astonishment.... In passing, I may + mention that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov.... + Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly, and you have no choice but to accept him. All + things are in God’s hands. This is so, and must always be so; and the + purposes of the Divine Creator are at once good and inscrutable, as also + is Fate, which is one with Him... + Thedora will share your happiness—for, of course, you will be happy, + and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! But why should + the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course—Monsieur Bwikov’s business + affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see to can afford to disregard + such things. I got a glimpse of Monsieur Bwikov as he was leaving your + door. He is a fine-looking man—a very fine-looking man; though that + is not the point that I should most have noticed had I been quite myself + at the time.... + In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I keep + wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you have said. To + think that just when twenty pages of my copying are completed THIS has + happened!... I suppose you will be able to make many purchases now—to + buy shoes and dresses and all sorts of things? Do you remember the shops + in Gorokhovaia Street of which I used to speak?... + But no. You ought not to go out at present—you simply ought not to, + and shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many things, and + to, keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is bad. Rain is + descending in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking kind of rain that—that + you might catch cold from it, my darling, and the chill might go to your + heart. Why should your fear of this man lead you to take such risks when + all the time I am here to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great + happiness to be awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman, and + evidently desires to ruin you. + Shall you be at the all-night Mass this evening, dearest? I should like to + come and see you there. Yes, Bwikov spoke but the truth when he said that + you are a woman of virtue, wit, and good feeling. Yet I think he would do + far better to marry the merchant’s daughter. What think YOU about it? Yes, + ‘twould be far better for him. As soon as it grows dark tonight I mean to + come and sit with you for an hour. Tonight twilight will close in early, + so I shall soon be with you. Yes, come what may, I mean to see you for an + hour. At present, I suppose, you are expecting Bwikov, but I will come as + soon as he has gone. So stay at home until I have arrived, dearest. + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 27th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Bwikov has just informed me that I must have + at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and look for + sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since time presses. + Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the fuss which these + fripperies are entailing, seeing that there remain but five days before + the wedding, and we are to depart on the following day. He keeps rushing + about and declaring that no time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am + terribly worried, and scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is so much + to do, and, perhaps, so much that were better left undone! Moreover, I + have no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be purchased, + since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look like a cook, but, + on the contrary, she must “put the noses of the great ladies out of + joint.” That is his expression. I wish, therefore, that you would go to + Madame Chiffon’s, in Gorokhovaia Street, and ask her, in the first place, + to send me some sempstresses, and, in the second place, to give herself + the trouble of coming in person, as I am too ill to go out. Our new flat + is very cold, and still in great disorder. Also, Bwikov has an aunt who is + at her last gasp through old age, and may die before our departure. He + himself, however, declares this to be nothing, and says that she will soon + recover. He is not yet living with me, and I have to go running hither and + thither to find him. Only Thedora is acting as my servant, together with + Bwikov’s valet, who oversees everything, but has been absent for the past three days. + Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. Yesterday he + even had some trouble with the police because of his thrashing the steward + of these buildings... I have no one to send with this letter so I am going + to post it... Ah! I had almost forgotten the most important point—which + is that I should like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon that I wish the + blond lace to be changed in conformity with yesterday’s patterns, if she + will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment. Also say that I + have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to be tamboured with + crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used with monograms on the + various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not smooth work. Do not forget + that it is to be tambour. Another thing I had almost forgotten, which is + that the lappets of the fur cloak must be raised, and the collar bound + with lace. Please tell her these things, Makar Alexievitch.—Your + friend, + </p> + <p> + B. D. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is the + third morning that you will have spent in running about for my sake. But + what else am I to do? The whole place is in disorder, and I myself am ill. + Do not be vexed with me, Makar Alexievitch. I am feeling so depressed! + What is going to become of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old Makar + Alexievitch? I dread to look forward into the future. Somehow I feel + apprehensive; I am living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God’s sake, + forget none of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make a + mistake! Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I have carefully fulfilled your + commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had thought of + using tambour work as being more suitable (though I did not quite take in + all she said). Also, she has informed me that, since you have given + certain directions in writing, she has followed them (though again I do + not clearly remember all that she said—I only remember that she said + a very great deal, for she is a most tiresome old woman). These + observations she will soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I + feel absolutely exhausted, and have not been to the office today... + Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I would + visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare not look + forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven o’clock, you will have + learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have arrived in person to see you. + Hope on, and everything will order itself for the best. Of course, I am + referring only to these accursed gewgaws, to these frills and fripperies! + Ah me, ah me, how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes, how glad I + shall be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your abode. + Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that—Well, things + are as they are. + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—For God’s sake go to the jeweller’s, + and tell him that, after all, he need not make the pearl and emerald + earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will cost him too much, that they + will burn a veritable hole in his pocket. In fact, he has lost his temper + again, and declares that he is being robbed. Yesterday he added that, had + he but known, but foreseen, these expenses, he would never have married. + Also, he says that, as things are, he intends only to have a plain + wedding, and then to depart. “You must not look for any dancing or + festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are still in the + air.” Such were his words. God knows I do not want such things, but none + the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made him no answer on the subject, + for he is a man all too easily irritated. What, what is going to become of + me? + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—All is well as regards the jeweller. + Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have fallen ill, and + cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things need to be done, I have + gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! Also I have to tell you that, + to complete my misfortunes, his Excellency has been pleased to become + stricter. Today he railed at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until the poor + fellow was quite put about. That is the sum of my news. + No—there is something else concerning which I should like to write + to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a simple, dull + fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head—Your + friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 29th. + </h2> + <p> + MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who + informed me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the following day + to go away—for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a post-chaise.... + </p> + <p> + Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. Also I + have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia Street. It is correct, + but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so out of humour with you? Nay, but + you must be of good cheer, my darling. I am so, and shall always be so, so + long as you are happy. I should have come to the church tomorrow, but, + alas, shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my loins. Also, I + would have written an account of the ceremony, but that there will be no + one to report to me the details.... + </p> + <p> + Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You have acted + kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed God will bless you. + Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does virtue ever fail to win the crown + of divine justice, be it early or be it late. Much else should I have + liked to write to you. Every hour, every minute I could occupy in writing. + Indeed I could write to you forever! Only your book, “The Stories of + Bielkin”, is left to me. Do not deprive me of it, I pray you, but suffer + me to keep it. It is not so much because I wish to read the book for its + own sake, as because winter is coming on, when the evenings will be long + and dreary, and one will want to read at least SOMETHING. + </p> + <p> + Do you know, I am going to move from my present quarters into your old + ones, which I intend to rent from Thedora; for I could never part with + that good old woman. Moreover, she is such a splendid worker. Yesterday I + inspected your empty room in detail, and inspected your embroidery-frame, + with the work still hanging on it. It had been left untouched in its + corner. Next, I inspected the work itself, of which there still remained a + few remnants, and saw that you had used one of my letters for a spool upon + which to wind your thread. Also, on the table I found a scrap of paper + which had written on it, “My dearest Makar Alexievitch I hasten to—” + that was all. Evidently, someone had interrupted you at an interesting + point. Lastly, behind a screen there was your little bed.... Oh darling of + darlings!!!... Well, goodbye now, goodbye now, but for God’s sake send me + something in answer to this letter! + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 30th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—All is over! The die is cast! What my + lot may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the will of God. + Tomorrow, then, we depart. For the last time, I take my leave of you, my + friend beyond price, my benefactor, my dear one! Do not grieve for me, but + try to live happily. Think of me sometimes, and may the blessing of + Almighty God light upon you! For myself, I shall often have you in + remembrance, and recall you in my prayers. Thus our time together has come + to an end. Little comfort in my new life shall I derive from memories of + the past. The more, therefore, shall I cherish the recollection of you, + and the dearer will you ever be to my heart. Here, you have been my only + friend; here, you alone have loved me. Yes, I have seen all, I have known + all—I have throughout known how well you love me. A single smile of + mine, a single stroke from my pen, has been able to make you happy.... But + now you must forget me.... How lonely you will be! Why should you stay + here at all, kind, inestimable, but solitary, friend of mine? + To your care I entrust the book, the embroidery frame, and the letter upon + which I had begun. When you look upon the few words which the letter + contains you will be able mentally to read in thought all that you would + have liked further to hear or receive from me—all that I would so + gladly have written, but can never now write. Think sometimes of your poor + little Barbara who loved you so well. All your letters I have left behind + me in the top drawer of Thedora’s chest of drawers... You write that you + are ill, but Monsieur Bwikov will not let me leave the house today; so + that I can only write to you. Also, I will write again before long. That + is a promise. Yet God only knows when I shall be able to do so.... + Now we must bid one another forever farewell, my friend, my beloved, my + own! Yes, it must be forever! Ah, how at this moment I could embrace you! + Goodbye, dear friend—goodbye, goodbye! May you ever rest well and + happy! To the end I shall keep you in my prayers. How my heart is aching + under its load of sorrow!... Monsieur Bwikov is just calling for me....—Your + ever loving + </p> + <p> + B. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—My heart is full! It is full to bursting of tears! Sorrow has + me in its grip, and is tearing me to pieces. Goodbye. My God, what grief! + Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara! + </p> + <p> + BELOVED BARBARA—MY JEWEL, MY PRICELESS ONE,—You are now almost + en route, you are now just about to depart! Would that they had torn my + heart out of my breast rather than have taken you away from me! How could + you allow it? You weep, yet you go! And only this moment I have received + from you a letter stained with your tears! It must be that you are + departing unwillingly; it must be that you are being abducted against your + will; it must be that you are sorry for me; it must be that—that you + LOVE me!... + Yet how will it fare with you now? Your heart will soon have become + chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon have sucked away its life; + grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, you will die where you be, and + be laid to rest in the cold, moist earth where there is no one to bewail + you. Monsieur Bwikov will only be hunting hares!... + Ah, my darling, my darling! WHY did you come to this decision? How could + you bring yourself to take such a step? What have you done, have you done, + have you done? Soon they will be carrying you away to the tomb; soon your + beauty will have become defiled, my angel. Ah, dearest one, you are as + weak as a feather. And where have I been all this time? What have I been + thinking of? I have treated you merely as a forward child whose head was + aching. Fool that I was, I neither saw nor understood. I have behaved as + though, right or wrong, the matter was in no way my concern. Yes, I have + been running about after fripperies!... Ah, but I WILL leave my bed. + Tomorrow I WILL rise sound and well, and be once more myself.... + Dearest, I could throw myself under the wheels of a passing vehicle rather + than that you should go like this. By what right is it being done?... I + will go with you; I will run behind your carriage if you will not take me—yes, + I will run, and run so long as the power is in me, and until my breath + shall have failed. Do you know whither you are going? Perhaps you will not + know, and will have to ask me? Before you there lie the Steppes, my + darling—only the Steppes, the naked Steppes, the Steppes that are as + bare as the palm of my hand. THERE there live only heartless old women and + rude peasants and drunkards. THERE the trees have already shed their + leaves. THERE there abide but rain and cold. Why should you go thither? + True, Monsieur Bwikov will have his diversions in that country—he + will be able to hunt the hare; but what of yourself? Do you wish to become + a mere estate lady? Nay; look at yourself, my seraph of heaven. Are you in + any way fitted for such a role? How could you play it? To whom should I + write letters? To whom should I send these missives? Whom should I call + “my darling”? To whom should I apply that name of endearment? Where, too, + could I find you? + When you are gone, Barbara, I shall die—for certain I shall die, for + my heart cannot bear this misery. I love you as I love the light of God; I + love you as my own daughter; to you I have devoted my love in its + entirety; only for you have I lived at all; only because you were near me + have I worked and copied manuscripts and committed my views to paper under + the guise of friendly letters. + Perhaps you did not know all this, but it has been so. How, then, my + beloved, could you bring yourself to leave me? Nay, you MUST not go—it + is impossible, it is sheerly, it is utterly, impossible. The rain will + fall upon you, and you are weak, and will catch cold. The floods will stop + your carriage. No sooner will it have passed the city barriers than it + will break down, purposely break down. Here, in St. Petersburg, they are + bad builders of carriages. Yes, I know well these carriage-builders. They + are jerry-builders who can fashion a toy, but nothing that is durable. + Yes, I swear they can make nothing that is durable.... All that I can do + is to go upon my knees before Monsieur Bwikov, and to tell him all, to + tell him all. Do you also tell him all, dearest, and reason with him. Tell + him that you MUST remain here, and must not go. Ah, why did he not marry + that merchant’s daughter in Moscow? Let him go and marry her now. She + would suit him far better and for reasons which I well know. Then I could + keep you. For what is he to you, this Monsieur Bwikov? Why has he suddenly + become so dear to your heart? Is it because he can buy you gewgaws? What + are THEY? What use are THEY? They are so much rubbish. One should consider + human life rather than mere finery. + Nevertheless, as soon as I have received my next instalment of salary I + mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to buy it at a shop with which I am + acquainted. Only, you must wait until my next installment is due, my angel + of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To think that you are going away into the + Steppes with Monsieur Bwikov—that you are going away never to + return!... Nay, nay, but you SHALL write to me. You SHALL write me a + letter as soon as you have started, even if it be your last letter of all, + my dearest. Yet will it be your last letter? How has it come about so + suddenly, so irrevocably, that this letter should be your last? Nay, nay; + I will write, and you shall write—yes, NOW, when at length I am + beginning to improve my style. Style? I do not know what I am writing. I + never do know what I am writing. I could not possibly know, for I never + read over what I have written, nor correct its orthography. At the present + moment, I am writing merely for the sake of writing, and to put as much as + possible into this last letter of mine.... + </p> + <p> + Ah, dearest, my pet, my own darling!... + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + +***** This file should be named 2302-h.htm or 2302-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2302/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd71a98 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #2302 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2302) diff --git a/old/2000-08-prflk10.txt b/old/2000-08-prflk10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3772a5c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2000-08-prflk10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5570 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky +#3 in our series by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Poor Folk + +by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +August, 2000 [Etext #2302] + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky +*****This file should be named prflk10.txt or prflk10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, prflk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, prflk10a.txt + + + +E-Text prepared by Martin Adamson +martin@grassmarket.freeserve.co.uk + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp sunsite.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +E-Text prepared by Martin Adamson +martin@grassmarket.freeserve.co.uk + + + + + +Poor Folk + +Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translated by + +CJ Hogarth + + + + +April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--How happy I was last night--how +immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in +your life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about +eight o'clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that +I always like to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)--I +awoke, I say, and, lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, +and trimmed my pen. Then suddenly, for some reason or another, I +raised my eyes--and felt my very heart leap within me! For you +had understood what I wanted, you had understood what my heart +was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner of the curtain in +your window had been looped up and fastened to the cornice as I +had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your dear +face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at +me from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were +thinking of me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish +your sweet face clearly! For there was a time when you and I +could see one another without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but +old age is not always a blessing, my beloved one! At this very +moment everything is standing awry to my eyes, for a man needs +only to work late overnight in his writing of something or other +for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, and the tears to be +gushing from them in a way that makes him ashamed to be seen +before strangers. However, I was able to picture to myself your +beaming smile, my angel--your kind, bright smile; and in my heart +there lurked just such a feeling as on the occasion when I first +kissed you, my little Barbara. Do you remember that, my darling? +Yet somehow you seemed to be threatening me with your tiny +finger. Was it so, little wanton? You must write and tell me +about it in your next letter. + +But what think you of the plan of the curtain, Barbara? It is a +charming one, is it not? No matter whether I be at work, or about +to retire to rest, or just awaking from sleep, it enables me to +know that you are thinking of me, and remembering me--that you +are both well and happy. Then when you lower the curtain, it +means that it is time that I, Makar Alexievitch, should go to +bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it means that you are +saying to me, "Good morning," and asking me how I am, and whether +I have slept well. "As for myself," adds the curtain, "I am +altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!" Yes, my +heart's delight, you see how easy a plan it was to devise, and +how much writing it will save us! It is a clever plan, is it not? +And it was my own invention, too! Am I not cunning in such +matters, Barbara Alexievna? + +Well, next let me tell you, dearest, that last night I slept +better and more soundly than I had ever hoped to do, and that I +am the more delighted at the fact in that, as you know, I had +just settled into a new lodging--a circumstance only too apt to +keep one from sleeping! This morning, too, I arose (joyous and +full of love) at cockcrow. How good seemed everything at that +hour, my darling! When I opened my window I could see the sun +shining, and hear the birds singing, and smell the air laden with +scents of spring. In short, all nature was awaking to life again. +Everything was in consonance with my mood; everything seemed fair +and spring-like. Moreover, I had a fancy that I should fare well +today. But my whole thoughts were bent upon you. "Surely," +thought I, "we mortals who dwell in pain and sorrow might with +reason envy the birds of heaven which know not either!" And my +other thoughts were similar to these. In short, I gave myself up +to fantastic comparisons. A little book which I have says the +same kind of thing in a variety of ways. For instance, it says +that one may have many, many fancies, my Barbara--that as soon as +the spring comes on, one's thoughts become uniformly pleasant and +sportive and witty, for the reason that, at that season, the mind +inclines readily to tenderness, and the world takes on a more +roseate hue. From that little book of mine I have culled the +following passage, and written it down for you to see. In +particular does the author express a longing similar to my own, +where he writes: + +"Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?" + +And he has written much else, God bless him! + +But tell me, my love--where did you go for your walk this +morning? Even before I had started for the office you had taken +flight from your room, and passed through the courtyard--yes, +looking as vernal-like as a bird in spring. What rapture it gave +me to see you! Ah, little Barbara, little Barbara, you must never +give way to grief, for tears are of no avail, nor sorrow. I know +this well--I know it of my own experience. So do you rest quietly +until you have regained your health a little. But how is our good +Thedora? What a kind heart she has! You write that she is now +living with you, and that you are satisfied with what she does. +True, you say that she is inclined to grumble, but do not mind +that, Barbara. God bless her, for she is an excellent soul! + +But what sort of an abode have I lighted upon, Barbara Alexievna? +What sort of a tenement, do you think, is this? Formerly, as you +know, I used to live in absolute stillness--so much so that if a +fly took wing it could plainly be heard buzzing. Here, however, +all is turmoil and shouting and clatter. The PLAN of the tenement +you know already. Imagine a long corridor, quite dark, and by no +means clean. To the right a dead wall, and to the left a row of +doors stretching as far as the line of rooms extends. These rooms +are tenanted by different people--by one, by two, or by three +lodgers as the case may be, but in this arrangement there is no +sort of system, and the place is a perfect Noah's Ark. Most of +the lodgers are respectable, educated, and even bookish people. +In particular they include a tchinovnik (one of the literary +staff in some government department), who is so well-read that he +can expound Homer or any other author--in fact, ANYTHING, such a +man of talent is he! Also, there are a couple of officers (for +ever playing cards), a midshipman, and an English tutor. But, to +amuse you, dearest, let me describe these people more +categorically in my next letter, and tell you in detail about +their lives. As for our landlady, she is a dirty little old woman +who always walks about in a dressing-gown and slippers, and never +ceases to shout at Theresa. I myself live in the kitchen--or, +rather, in a small room which forms part of the kitchen. The +latter is a very large, bright, clean, cheerful apartment with +three windows in it, and a partition-wall which, running outwards +from the front wall, makes a sort of little den, a sort of extra +room, for myself. Everything in this den is comfortable and +convenient, and I have, as I say, a window to myself. So much for +a description of my dwelling-place. Do not think, dearest, that +in all this there is any hidden intention. The fact that I live +in the kitchen merely means that I live behind the partition wall +in that apartment--that I live quite alone, and spend my time in +a quiet fashion compounded of trifles. For furniture I have +provided myself with a bed, a table, a chest of drawers, and two +small chairs. Also, I have suspended an ikon. True, better rooms +MAY exist in the world than this--much better rooms; yet COMFORT +is the chief thing. In fact, I have made all my arrangements for +comfort's sake alone; so do not for a moment imagine that I had +any other end in view. And since your window happens to be just +opposite to mine, and since the courtyard between us is narrow +and I can see you as you pass,--why, the result is that this +miserable wretch will be able to live at once more happily and +with less outlay. The dearest room in this house costs, with +board, thirty-five roubles--more than my purse could well afford; +whereas MY room costs only twenty-four, though formerly I used to +pay thirty, and so had to deny myself many things (I could drink +tea but seldom, and never could indulge in tea and sugar as I do +now). But, somehow, I do not like having to go without tea, for +everyone else here is respectable, and the fact makes me ashamed. +After all, one drinks tea largely to please one's fellow men, +Barbara, and to give oneself tone and an air of gentility +(though, of myself, I care little about such things, for I am not +a man of the finicking sort). Yet think you that, when all things +needful--boots and the rest--have been paid for, much will +remain? Yet I ought not to grumble at my salary,--I am quite +satisfied with it; it is sufficient. It has sufficed me now for +some years, and, in addition, I receive certain gratuities. + +Well good-bye, my darling. I have bought you two little pots of +geraniums--quite cheap little pots, too--as a present. Perhaps +you would also like some mignonette? Mignonette it shall be if +only you will write to inform me of everything in detail. Also, +do not misunderstand the fact that I have taken this room, my +dearest. Convenience and nothing else, has made me do so. The +snugness of the place has caught my fancy. Also. I shall be able +to save money here, and to hoard it against the future. Already I +have saved a little money as a beginning. Nor must you despise me +because I am such an insignificant old fellow that a fly could +break me with its wing. True, I am not a swashbuckler; but +perhaps there may also abide in me the spirit which should +pertain to every man who is at once resigned and sure of himself. +Good-bye, then, again, my angel. I have now covered close upon a +whole two sheets of notepaper, though I ought long ago to have +been starting for the office. I kiss your hands, and remain ever +your devoted slave, your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--One thing I beg of you above all things--and that is, that +you will answer this letter as FULLY as possible. With the letter +I send you a packet of bonbons. Eat them for your health's sake, +nor, for the love of God, feel any uneasiness about me. Once +more, dearest one, good-bye. + + + + April 8th + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do you know, must quarrel with +you. Yes, good Makar Alexievitch, I really cannot accept your +presents, for I know what they must have cost you--I know to what +privations and self-denial they must have led. How many times +have I not told you that I stand in need of NOTHING, of +absolutely NOTHING, as well as that I shall never be in a +position to recompense you for all the kindly acts with which you +have loaded me? Why, for instance, have you sent me geraniums? A +little sprig of balsam would not have mattered so much-- but +geraniums! Only have I to let fall an unguarded word--for +example, about geraniums--and at once you buy me some! How much +they must have cost you! Yet what a charm there is in them, with +their flaming petals! Wherever did you get these beautiful +plants? I have set them in my window as the most conspicuous +place possible, while on the floor I have placed a bench for my +other flowers to stand on (since you are good enough to enrich me +with such presents). Unfortunately, Thedora, who, with her +sweeping and polishing, makes a perfect sanctuary of my room, is +not over-pleased at the arrangement. But why have you sent me +also bonbons? Your letter tells me that something special is +afoot with you, for I find in it so much about paradise and +spring and sweet odours and the songs of birds. Surely, thought I +to myself when I received it, this is as good as poetry! Indeed, +verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, Makar +Alexievitch. And what tender feelings I can read in it--what +roseate-coloured fancies! To the curtain, however, I had never +given a thought. The fact is that when I moved the flower-pots, +it LOOPED ITSELF up. There now! + +Ah, Makar Alexievitch, you neither speak of nor give any account +of what you have spent upon me. You hope thereby to deceive me, +to make it seem as though the cost always falls upon you alone, +and that there is nothing to conceal. Yet I KNOW that for my sake +you deny yourself necessaries. For instance, what has made you go +and take the room which you have done, where you will be worried +and disturbed, and where you have neither elbow-space nor +comfort--you who love solitude, and never like to have any one +near you? To judge from your salary, I should think that you +might well live in greater ease than that. Also, Thedora tells me +that your circumstances used to be much more affluent than they +are at present. Do you wish, then, to persuade me that your whole +existence has been passed in loneliness and want and gloom, with +never a cheering word to help you, nor a seat in a friend's +chimney-corner? Ah, kind comrade, how my heart aches for you! But +do not overtask your health, Makar Alexievitch. For instance, you +say that your eyes are over-weak for you to go on writing in your +office by candle-light. Then why do so? I am sure that your +official superiors do not need to be convinced of your diligence! + +Once more I implore you not to waste so much money upon me. I +know how much you love me, but I also know that you are not rich. +. . . This morning I too rose in good spirits. Thedora had long +been at work; and it was time that I too should bestir myself. +Indeed I was yearning to do so, so I went out for some silk, and +then sat down to my labours. All the morning I felt light-hearted +and cheerful. Yet now my thoughts are once more dark and sad-- +once more my heart is ready to sink. + +Ah, what is going to become of me? What will be my fate? To have +to be so uncertain as to the future, to have to be unable to +foretell what is going to happen, distresses me deeply. Even to +look back at the past is horrible, for it contains sorrow that +breaks my very heart at the thought of it. Yes, a whole century +in tears could I spend because of the wicked people who have +wrecked my life! + +But dusk is coming on, and I must set to work again. Much else +should I have liked to write to you, but time is lacking, and I +must hasten. Of course, to write this letter is a pleasure +enough, and could never be wearisome; but why do you not come to +see me in person? Why do you not, Makar Alexievitch? You live so +close to me, and at least SOME of your time is your own. I pray +you, come. I have just seen Theresa. She was looking so ill, and +I felt so sorry for her, that I gave her twenty kopecks. I am +almost falling asleep. Write to me in fullest detail, both +concerning your mode of life, and concerning the people who live +with you, and concerning how you fare with them. I should so like +to know! Yes, you must write again. Tonight I have purposely +looped the curtain up. Go to bed early, for, last night, I saw +your candle burning until nearly midnight. Goodbye! I am now +feeling sad and weary. Ah that I should have to spend such days +as this one has been. Again good-bye.--Your friend, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--To think that a day like this +should have fallen to my miserable lot! Surely you are making fun +of an old man? ... However, it was my own fault--my own fault +entirely. One ought not to grow old holding a lock of Cupid's +hair in one's hand. Naturally one is misunderstood.... Yet man is +sometimes a very strange being. By all the Saints, he will talk +of doing things, yet leave them undone, and remain looking the +kind of fool from whom may the Lord preserve us! . . . Nay, I am +not angry, my beloved; I am only vexed to think that I should +have written to you in such stupid, flowery phraseology. Today I +went hopping and skipping to the office, for my heart was under +your influence, and my soul was keeping holiday, as it were. Yes, +everything seemed to be going well with me. Then I betook myself +to my work. But with what result? I gazed around at the old +familiar objects, at the old familiar grey and gloomy objects. +They looked just the same as before. Yet WERE those the same +inkstains, the same tables and chairs, that I had hitherto known? +Yes, they WERE the same, exactly the same; so why should I have +gone off riding on Pegasus' back? Whence had that mood arisen? It +had arisen from the fact that a certain sun had beamed upon me, +and turned the sky to blue. But why so? Why is it, sometimes, +that sweet odours seem to be blowing through a courtyard where +nothing of the sort can be? They must be born of my foolish +fancy, for a man may stray so far into sentiment as to forget his +immediate surroundings, and to give way to the superfluity of +fond ardour with which his heart is charged. On the other hand, +as I walked home from the office at nightfall my feet seemed to +lag, and my head to be aching. Also, a cold wind seemed to be +blowing down my back (enraptured with the spring, I had gone out +clad only in a thin overcoat). Yet you have misunderstood my +sentiments, dearest. They are altogether different to what you +suppose. It is a purely paternal feeling that I have for you. I +stand towards you in the position of a relative who is bound to +watch over your lonely orphanhood. This I say in all sincerity, +and with a single purpose, as any kinsman might do. For, after +all, I AM a distant kinsman of yours--the seventh drop of water +in the pudding, as the proverb has it--yet still a kinsman, and +at the present time your nearest relative and protector, seeing +that where you had the right to look for help and protection, you +found only treachery and insult. As for poetry, I may say that I +consider it unbecoming for a man of my years to devote his +faculties to the making of verses. Poetry is rubbish. Even boys +at school ought to be whipped for writing it. + +Why do you write thus about "comfort" and "peace" and the rest? I +am not a fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my +life have I been so comfortable as now. Why, then, should I +complain in my old age? I have enough to eat, I am well dressed +and booted. Also, I have my diversions. You see, I am not of +noble blood. My father himself was not a gentleman; he and his +family had to live even more plainly than I do. Nor am I a +milksop. Nevertheless, to speak frankly, I do not like my present +abode so much as I used to like my old one. Somehow the latter +seemed more cosy, dearest. Of course, this room is a good one +enough; in fact, in SOME respects it is the more cheerful and +interesting of the two. I have nothing to say against it--no. Yet +I miss the room that used to be so familiar to me. Old lodgers +like myself soon grow as attached to our chattels as to a +kinsman. My old room was such a snug little place! True, its +walls resembled those of any other room--I am not speaking of +that; the point is that the recollection of them seems to haunt +my mind with sadness. Curious that recollections should be so +mournful! Even what in that room used to vex me and inconvenience +me now looms in a purified light, and figures in my imagination +as a thing to be desired. We used to live there so quietly--I and +an old landlady who is now dead. How my heart aches to remember +her, for she was a good woman, and never overcharged for her +rooms. Her whole time was spent in making patchwork quilts with +knitting-needles that were an arshin [An ell.] long. Oftentimes +we shared the same candle and board. Also she had a +granddaughter, Masha--a girl who was then a mere baby, but must +now be a girl of thirteen. This little piece of mischief, how she +used to make us laugh the day long! We lived together, a happy +family of three. Often of a long winter's evening we would first +have tea at the big round table, and then betake ourselves to our +work; the while that, to amuse the child and to keep her out of +mischief, the old lady would set herself to tell stories. What +stories they were!--though stories less suitable for a child than +for a grown-up, educated person. My word! Why, I myself have sat +listening to them, as I smoked my pipe, until I have forgotten +about work altogether. And then, as the story grew grimmer, the +little child, our little bag of mischief, would grow thoughtful +in proportion, and clasp her rosy cheeks in her tiny hands, and, +hiding her face, press closer to the old landlady. Ah, how I +loved to see her at those moments! As one gazed at her one would +fail to notice how the candle was flickering, or how the storm +was swishing the snow about the courtyard. Yes, that was a goodly +life, my Barbara, and we lived it for nearly twenty years. . . . +How my tongue does carry me away! Maybe the subject does not +interest you, and I myself find it a not over-easy subject to +recall--especially at the present time. + +Darkness is falling, and Theresa is busying herself with +something or another. My head and my back are aching, and even my +thoughts seem to be in pain, so strangely do they occur. Yes, my +heart is sad today, Barbara.... What is it you have written to +me? ---"Why do you not come in PERSON to see me?" Dear one, what +would people say? I should have but to cross the courtyard for +people to begin noticing us, and asking themselves questions. +Gossip and scandal would arise, and there would be read into the +affair quite another meaning than the real one. No, little angel, +it were better that I should see you tomorrow at Vespers. That +will be the better plan, and less hurtful to us both. Nor must +you chide me, beloved, because I have written you a letter like +this (reading it through, I see it to be all odds and ends); for +I am an old man now, dear Barbara, and an uneducated one. Little +learning had I in my youth, and things refuse to fix themselves +in my brain when I try to learn them anew. No, I am not skilled +in letter-writing, Barbara, and, without being told so, or any +one laughing at me for it, I know that, whenever I try to +describe anything with more than ordinary distinctness, I fall +into the mistake of talking sheer rubbish. . . . I saw you at +your window today--yes, I saw you as you were drawing down the +blind! Good-bye, goodbye, little Barbara, and may God keep you! +Good-bye, my own Barbara Alexievna!--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--Do not think that I could write to you in a satirical vein, +for I am too old to show my teeth to no purpose, and people would +laugh at me, and quote our Russian proverb: "Who diggeth a pit +for another one, the same shall fall into it himself." + + + + April 9th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Are not you, my friend and +benefactor, just a little ashamed to repine and give way to such +despondency? And surely you are not offended with me? Ah! Though +often thoughtless in my speech, I never should have imagined that +you would take my words as a jest at your expense. Rest assured +that NEVER should I make sport of your years or of your +character. Only my own levity is at fault; still more, the fact +that I am so weary of life. + +What will such a feeling not engender? To tell you the truth, I +had supposed that YOU were jesting in your letter; wherefore, my +heart was feeling heavy at the thought that you could feel so +displeased with me. Kind comrade and helper, you will be doing me +an injustice if for a single moment you ever suspect that I am +lacking in feeling or in gratitude towards you. My heart, believe +me, is able to appraise at its true worth all that you have done +for me by protecting me from my enemies, and from hatred and +persecution. Never shall I cease to pray to God for you; and, +should my prayers ever reach Him and be received of Heaven, then +assuredly fortune will smile upon you! + +Today I am not well. By turns I shiver and flush with heat, and +Thedora is greatly disturbed about me. . . . Do not scruple to +come and see me, Makar Alexievitch. How can it concern other +people what you do? You and I are well enough acquainted with +each other, and one's own affairs are one's own affairs. Goodbye, +Makar Alexievitch, for I have come to the end of all I had to +say, and am feeling too unwell to write more. Again I beg of you +not to be angry with me, but to rest assured of my constant +respect and attachment.--Your humble, devoted servant, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + +April 12th + +DEAREST MISTRESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I pray you, my beloved, to +tell me what ails you. Every one of your letters fills me with +alarm. On the other hand, in every letter I urge you to be more +careful of yourself, and to wrap up yourself warmly, and to avoid +going out in bad weather, and to be in all things prudent. Yet +you go and disobey me! Ah, little angel, you are a perfect child! +I know well that you are as weak as a blade of grass, and that, +no matter what wind blows upon you, you are ready to fade. But +you must be careful of yourself, dearest; you MUST look after +yourself better; you MUST avoid all risks, lest you plunge your +friends into desolation and despair. + +Dearest, you also express a wish to learn the details of my daily +life and surroundings. That wish I hasten to satisfy. Let me +begin at the beginning, since, by doing so, I shall explain +things more systematically. In the first place, on entering this +house, one passes into a very bare hall, and thence along a +passage to a mean staircase. The reception room, however, is +bright, clean, and spacious, and is lined with redwood and metal- +work. But the scullery you would not care to see; it is greasy, +dirty, and odoriferous, while the stairs are in rags, and the +walls so covered with filth that the hand sticks fast wherever it +touches them. Also, on each landing there is a medley of boxes, +chairs, and dilapidated wardrobes; while the windows have had +most of their panes shattered, and everywhere stand washtubs +filled with dirt, litter, eggshells, and fish-bladders. The smell +is abominable. In short, the house is not a nice one. + +As to the disposition of the rooms, I have described it to you +already. True, they are convenient enough, yet every one of them +has an ATMOSPHERE. I do not mean that they smell badly so much as +that each of them seems to contain something which gives forth a +rank, sickly-sweet odour. At first the impression is an +unpleasant one, but a couple of minutes will suffice to dissipate +it, for the reason that EVERYTHING here smells--people's clothes, +hands, and everything else--and one grows accustomed to the +rankness. Canaries, however, soon die in this house. A naval +officer here has just bought his fifth. Birds cannot live long in +such an air. Every morning, when fish or beef is being cooked, +and washing and scrubbing are in progress, the house is filled +with steam. Always, too, the kitchen is full of linen hanging out +to dry; and since my room adjoins that apartment, the smell from +the clothes causes me not a little annoyance. However, one can +grow used to anything. + +From earliest dawn the house is astir as its inmates rise, walk +about, and stamp their feet. That is to say, everyone who has to +go to work then gets out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken +of. Most of the tea-urns belong to the landlady; and since there +are not very many of them, we have to wait our turn. Anyone who +fails to do so will find his teapot emptied and put away. On the +first occasion, that was what happened to myself. Well, is there +anything else to tell you? Already I have made the acquaintance +of the company here. The naval officer took the initiative in +calling upon me, and his frankness was such that he told me all +about his father, his mother, his sister (who is married to a +lawyer of Tula), and the town of Kronstadt. Also, he promised me +his patronage, and asked me to come and take tea with him. I kept +the appointment in a room where card-playing is continually in +progress; and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made to +induce me to gamble. Whether or not my refusal seemed to the +company ridiculous I cannot say, but at all events my companions +played the whole evening, and were playing when I left. The dust +and smoke in the room made my eyes ache. I declined, as I say, to +play cards, and was, therefore, requested to discourse on +philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at all--a result which +I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of going there +again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but +gambling. Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his +room--though, in his case, everything is done delicately and with +a certain refinement, so that the thing has something of a +retiring and innocent air. + +In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman. +In fact, she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so +what do you think of her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in +consumption, and, with Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the +entire staff of the establishment. Whether or not Phaldoni has +any other name I do not know, but at least he answers to this +one, and every one calls him by it. A red-haired, swine-jowled, +snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever wrangling with Theresa, +until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, life is not overly +pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the household wholly +at rest, for always there are people sitting up to play cards. +Sometimes, too, certain things are done of which it would be +shameful for me to speak. In particular, hardened though I am, it +astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES should care to live in this +Sodom. For example, there is a family of poor folk who have +rented from the landlady a room which does not adjoin the other +rooms, but is set apart in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet +people they are! Not a sound is to be heard from them. The +father--he is called Gorshkov--is a little grey-headed tchinovnik +who, seven years ago, was dismissed from public service, and now +walks about in a coat so dirty and ragged that it hurts one to +see it. Indeed it is a worse coat even than mine! Also, he is so +thin and frail (at times I meet him in the corridor) that his +knees quake under him, his hands and head are tremulous with some +disease (God only knows what!), and he so fears and distrusts +everybody that he always walks alone. Reserved though I myself +am, he is even worse. As for his family, it consists of a wife +and three children. The eldest of the latter--a boy--is as frail +as his father, while the mother--a woman who, formerly, must have +been good looking, and still has a striking aspect in spite of +her pallor--goes about in the sorriest of rags. Also I have heard +that they are in debt to our landlady, as well as that she is not +overly kind to them. Moreover, I have heard that Gorshkov lost +his post through some unpleasantness or other--through a legal +suit or process of which I could not exactly tell you the nature. +Yes, they certainly are poor--Oh, my God, how poor! At the same +time, never a sound comes from their room. It is as though not a +soul were living in it. Never does one hear even the children-- +which is an unusual thing, seeing that children are ever ready to +sport and play, and if they fail to do so it is a bad sign. One +evening when I chanced to be passing the door of their room, and +all was quiet in the house, I heard through the door a sob, and +then a whisper, and then another sob, as though somebody within +were weeping, and with such subdued bitterness that it tore my +heart to hear the sound. In fact, the thought of these poor +people never left me all night, and quite prevented me from +sleeping. + +Well, good-bye, my little Barbara, my little friend beyond price. +I have described to you everything to the best of my ability. All +today you have been in my thoughts; all today my heart has been +yearning for you. I happen to know, dearest one, that you lack a +warm cloak. To me too, these St. Petersburg springs, with their +winds and their snow showers, spell death. Good heavens, how the +breezes bite one! Do not be angry, beloved, that I should write +like this. Style I have not. Would that I had! I write just what +wanders into my brain, in the hope that I may cheer you up a +little. Of course, had I had a good education, things might have +been different; but, as things were, I could not have one. Never +did I learn even to do simple sums!--Your faithful and +unchangeable friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + April 25th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today I met my cousin Sasha. To +see her going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly. Moreover, it +has reached me, through a side wind, that she has been making +inquiry for me, and dogging my footsteps, under the pretext that +she wishes to pardon me, to forget the past, and to renew our +acquaintance. Well, among other things she told me that, whereas +you are not a kinsman of mine, that she is my nearest relative; +that you have no right whatever to enter into family relations +with us; and that it is wrong and shameful for me to be living +upon your earnings and charity. Also, she said that I must have +forgotten all that she did for me, though thereby she saved both +myself and my mother from starvation, and gave us food and drink; +that for two and a half years we caused her great loss; and, +above all things, that she excused us what we owed her. Even my +poor mother she did not spare. Would that she, my dead parent, +could know how I am being treated! But God knows all about it. . +. . Also, Anna declared that it was solely through my own fault +that my fortunes declined after she had bettered them; that she +is in no way responsible for what then happened; and that I have +but myself to blame for having been either unable or unwilling to +defend my honour. Great God! WHO, then, has been at fault? +According to Anna, Hospodin [Mr.] Bwikov was only right when he +declined to marry a woman who-- But need I say it? It is cruel to +hear such lies as hers. What is to become of me I do not know. I +tremble and sob and weep. Indeed, even to write this letter has +cost me two hours. At least it might have been thought that Anna +would have confessed HER share in the past. Yet see what she +says! ... For the love of God do not be anxious about me, my +friend, my only benefactor. Thedora is over apt to exaggerate +matters. I am not REALLY ill. I have merely caught a little cold. +I caught it last night while I was walking to Bolkovo, to hear +Mass sung for my mother. Ah, mother, my poor mother! Could you +but rise from the grave and learn what is being done to your +daughter! + +B. D. + + + + May 20th + +MY DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--I am sending you a few grapes, which +are good for a convalescent person, and strongly recommended by +doctors for the allayment of fever. Also, you were saying the +other day that you would like some roses; wherefore, I now send +you a bunch. Are you at all able to eat, my darling?--for that is +the chief point which ought to be seen to. Let us thank God that +the past and all its unhappiness are gone! Yes, let us give +thanks to Heaven for that much! As for books, I cannot get hold +of any, except for a book which, written in excellent style, is, +I believe, to be had here. At all events, people keep praising it +very much, and I have begged the loan of it for myself. Should +you too like to read it? In this respect, indeed, I feel nervous, +for the reason that it is so difficult to divine what your taste +in books may be, despite my knowledge of your character. Probably +you would like poetry--the poetry of sentiment and of love +making? Well, I will send you a book of MY OWN poems. Already I +have copied out part of the manuscript. + +Everything with me is going well; so pray do not be anxious on my +account, beloved. What Thedora told you about me was sheer +rubbish. Tell her from me that she has not been speaking the +truth. Yes, do not fail to give this mischief-maker my message. +It is not the case that I have gone and sold a new uniform. Why +should I do so, seeing that I have forty roubles of salary still +to come to me? Do not be uneasy, my darling. Thedora is a +vindictive woman--merely a vindictive woman. We shall yet see +better days. Only do you get well, my angel--only do you get +well, for the love of God, lest you grieve an old man. Also, who +told you that I was looking thin? Slanders again--nothing but +slanders! I am as healthy as could be, and have grown so fat that +I am ashamed to be so sleek of paunch. Would that you were +equally healthy! . . . Now goodbye, my angel. I kiss every one of +your tiny fingers, and remain ever your constant friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--But what is this, dearest one, that you have written to me? +Why do you place me upon such a pedestal? Moreover, how could I +come and visit you frequently? How, I repeat? Of course, I might +avail myself of the cover of night; but, alas! the season of the +year is what it is, and includes no night time to speak of. In +fact, although, throughout your illness and delirium, I scarcely +left your side for a moment, I cannot think how I contrived to do +the many things that I did. Later, I ceased to visit you at all, +for the reason that people were beginning to notice things, and +to ask me questions. Yet, even so, a scandal has arisen. Theresa +I trust thoroughly, for she is not a talkative woman; but +consider how it will be when the truth comes out in its entirety! +What THEN will folk not say and think? Nevertheless, be of good +cheer, my beloved, and regain your health. When you have done so +we will contrive to arrange a rendezvous out of doors. + + + + June 1st + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--So eager am I to do something that +will please and divert you in return for your care, for your +ceaseless efforts on my behalf--in short, for your love for me-- +that I have decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving +into my locker, and extracting thence the manuscript which I send +you herewith. I began it during the happier period of my life, +and have continued it at intervals since. So often have you asked +me about my former existence--about my mother, about Pokrovski, +about my sojourn with Anna Thedorovna, about my more recent +misfortunes; so often have you expressed an earnest desire to +read the manuscript in which (God knows why) I have recorded +certain incidents of my life, that I feel no doubt but that the +sending of it will give you sincere pleasure. Yet somehow I feel +depressed when I read it, for I seem now to have grown twice as +old as I was when I penned its concluding lines. Ah, Makar +Alexievitch, how weary I am--how this insomnia tortures me! +Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! + +B. D. + +ONE + +UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was +the happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here- +in the depths of the province of Tula, where my father filled the +position of steward on the vast estates of the Prince P--. Our +house was situated in one of the Prince's villages, and we lived +a quiet, obscure, but happy, life. A gay little child was I--my +one idea being ceaselessly to run about the fields and the woods +and the garden. No one ever gave me a thought, for my father was +always occupied with business affairs, and my mother with her +housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any lessons--a +circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I would +hie me to a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, +where the sun could warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, +and scratch my hands with bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. +For this I used to get blamed afterwards, but I did not care. + +Had it befallen me never to quit that village--had it befallen me +to remain for ever in that spot--I should always have been happy; +but fate ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before +my girlhood had come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years +old when we removed to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to +recall the mournful gatherings before our departure, and to +recall how bitterly I wept when the time came for us to say +farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember throwing +myself upon my father's neck, and beseeching him with tears to +stay in the country a little longer; but he bid me be silent, and +my mother, adding her tears to mine, explained that business +matters compelled us to go. As a matter of fact, old Prince P-- +had just died, and his heirs had dismissed my father from his +post; whereupon, since he had a little money privately invested +in St. Petersburg, he bethought him that his personal presence in +the capital was necessary for the due management of his affairs. +It was my mother who told me this. Consequently we settled here +in St. Petersburg, and did not again move until my father died. + +How difficult I found it to grow accustomed to my new life! At +the time of our removal to St. Petersburg it was autumn--a season +when, in the country, the weather is clear and keen and bright, +all agricultural labour has come to an end, the great sheaves of +corn are safely garnered in the byre, and the birds are flying +hither and thither in clamorous flocks. Yes, at that season the +country is joyous and fair, but here in St. Petersburg, at the +time when we reached the city, we encountered nothing but rain, +bitter autumn frosts, dull skies, ugliness, and crowds of +strangers who looked hostile, discontented, and disposed to take +offence. However, we managed to settle down--though I remember +that in our new home there was much noise and confusion as we set +the establishment in order. After this my father was seldom at +home, and my mother had few spare moments; wherefore, I found +myself forgotten. + +The first morning after our arrival, when I awoke from sleep, how +sad I felt! I could see that our windows looked out upon a drab +space of wall, and that the street below was littered with filth. +Passers-by were few, and as they walked they kept muffling +themselves up against the cold. + +Then there ensued days when dullness and depression reigned +supreme. Scarcely a relative or an acquaintance did we possess in +St. Petersburg, and even Anna Thedorovna and my father had come +to loggerheads with one another, owing to the fact that he owed +her money. In fact, our only visitors were business callers, and +as a rule these came but to wrangle, to argue, and to raise a +disturbance. Such visits would make my father look very +discontented, and seem out of temper. For hours and hours he +would pace the room with a frown on his face and a brooding +silence on his lips. Even my mother did not dare address him at +these times, while, for my own part, I used to sit reading +quietly and humbly in a corner--not venturing to make a movement +of any sort. + +Three months after our arrival in St. Petersburg I was sent to a +boarding-school. Here I found myself thrown among strange people; +here everything was grim and uninviting, with teachers +continually shouting at me, and my fellow-pupils for ever holding +me up to derision, and myself constantly feeling awkward and +uncouth. How strict, how exacting was the system! Appointed hours +for everything, a common table, ever-insistent teachers! These +things simply worried and tortured me. Never from the first could +I sleep, but used to weep many a chill, weary night away. In the +evenings everyone would have to repeat or to learn her lessons. +As I crouched over a dialogue or a vocabulary, without daring +even to stir, how my thoughts would turn to the chimney-corner at +home, to my father, to my mother, to my old nurse, to the tales +which the latter had been used to tell! How sad it all was! The +memory of the merest trifle at home would please me, and I would +think and think how nice things used to be at home. Once more I +would be sitting in our little parlour at tea with my parents--in +the familiar little parlour where everything was snug and warm! +How ardently, how convulsively I would seem to be embracing my +mother! Thus I would ponder, until at length tears of sorrow +would softly gush forth and choke my bosom, and drive the lessons +out of my head. For I never could master the tasks of the morrow; +no matter how much my mistress and fellow-pupils might gird at +me, no matter how much I might repeat my lessons over and over to +myself, knowledge never came with the morning. Consequently, I +used to be ordered the kneeling punishment, and given only one +meal in the day. How dull and dispirited I used to feel! From the +first my fellow-pupils used to tease and deride and mock me +whenever I was saying my lessons. Also, they used to pinch me as +we were on our way to dinner or tea, and to make groundless +complaints of me to the head mistress. On the other hand, how +heavenly it seemed when, on Saturday evening, my old nurse +arrived to fetch me! How I would embrace the old woman in +transports of joy! After dressing me, and wrapping me up, she +would find that she could scarcely keep pace with me on the way +home, so full was I of chatter and tales about one thing and +another. Then, when I had arrived home merry and lighthearted, +how fervently I would embrace my parents, as though I had not +seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would there be--such a +talking and a telling of tales! To everyone I would run with a +greeting, and laugh, and giggle, and scamper about, and skip for +very joy. True, my father and I used to have grave conversations +about lessons and teachers and the French language and grammar; +yet we were all very happy and contented together. Even now it +thrills me to think of those moments. For my father's sake I +tried hard to learn my lessons, for I could see that he was +spending his last kopeck upon me, and himself subsisting God +knows how. Every day he grew more morose and discontented and +irritable; every day his character kept changing for the worse. +He had suffered an influx of debts, nor were his business affairs +prospering. As for my mother, she was afraid even to say a word, +or to weep aloud, for fear of still further angering him. +Gradually she sickened, grew thinner and thinner, and became +taken with a painful cough. Whenever I reached home from school I +would find every one low-spirited, and my mother shedding silent +tears, and my father raging. Bickering and high words would +arise, during which my father was wont to declare that, though he +no longer derived the smallest pleasure or relaxation from life, +and had spent his last coin upon my education, I had not yet +mastered the French language. In short, everything began to go +wrong, to turn to unhappiness; and for that circumstance, my +father took vengeance upon myself and my mother. How he could +treat my poor mother so I cannot understand. It used to rend my +heart to see her, so hollow were her cheeks becoming, so sunken +her eyes, so hectic her face. But it was chiefly around myself +that the disputes raged. Though beginning only with some trifle, +they would soon go on to God knows what. Frequently, even I +myself did not know to what they related. Anything and everything +would enter into them, for my father would say that I was an +utter dunce at the French language; that the head mistress of my +school was a stupid, common sort of women who cared nothing for +morals; that he (my father) had not yet succeeded in obtaining +another post; that Lamonde's "Grammar" was a wretched book--even +a worse one than Zapolski's; that a great deal of money had been +squandered upon me; that it was clear that I was wasting my time +in repeating dialogues and vocabularies; that I alone was at +fault, and that I must answer for everything. Yet this did not +arise from any WANT OF LOVE for me on the part of my father, but +rather from the fact that he was incapable of putting himself in +my own and my mother's place. It came of a defect of character. + +All these cares and worries and disappointments tortured my poor +father until he became moody and distrustful. Next he began to +neglect his health. with the result that, catching a chill, he +died, after a short illness, so suddenly and unexpectedly that +for a few days we were almost beside ourselves with the shock -- +my mother, in particular, lying for a while in such a state of +torpor that I had fears for her reason. The instant my father was +dead creditors seemed to spring up out of the ground, and to +assail us en masse. Everything that we possessed had to be +surrendered to them, including a little house which my father had +bought six months after our arrival in St. Petersburg. How +matters were finally settled I do not know, but we found +ourselves roofless, shelterless, and without a copper. My mother +was grievously ill, and of means of subsistence we had none. +Before us there loomed only ruin, sheer ruin. At the time I was +fourteen years old. Soon afterwards Anna Thedorovna came to see +us, saying that she was a lady of property and our relative; and +this my mother confirmed--though, true, she added that Anna was +only a very DISTANT relative. Anna had never taken the least +notice of us during my father's lifetime, yet now she entered our +presence with tears in her eyes, and an assurance that she meant +to better our fortunes. Having condoled with us on our loss and +destitute position, she added that my father had been to blame +for everything, in that he had lived beyond his means, and taken +upon himself more than he was able to perform. Also, she +expressed a wish to draw closer to us, and to forget old scores; +and when my mother explained that, for her own part, she +harboured no resentment against Anna, the latter burst into +tears, and, hurrying my mother away to church, then and there +ordered Mass to be said for the "dear departed," as she called my +father. In this manner she effected a solemn reconciliation with +my mother. + +Next, after long negotiations and vacillations, coupled with much +vivid description of our destitute position, our desolation, and +our helplessness, Anna invited us to pay her (as she expressed +it) a "return visit." For this my mother duly thanked her, and +considered the invitation for a while; after which, seeing that +there was nothing else to be done, she informed Anna Thedorovna +that she was prepared, gratefully, to accept her offer. Ah, how I +remember the morning when we removed to Vassilievski Island! [A +quarter of St. Petersburg.] It was a clear, dry, frosty morning +in autumn. My mother could not restrain her tears, and I too felt +depressed. Nay, my very heart seemed to be breaking under a +strange, undefined load of sorrow. How terrible it all seemed! . +. . + +II + +AT first--that is to say, until my mother and myself grew used to +our new abode--we found living at Anna Thedorovna's both strange +and disagreeable. The house was her own, and contained five +rooms, three of which she shared with my orphaned cousin, Sasha +(whom she had brought up from babyhood); a fourth was occupied by +my mother and myself; and the fifth was rented of Anna by a poor +student named Pokrovski. Although Anna lived in good style--in +far better style than might have been expected--her means and her +avocation were conjectural. Never was she at rest; never was she +not busy with some mysterious something or other. Also, she +possessed a wide and varied circle of friends. The stream of +callers was perpetual--although God only knows who they were, or +what their business was. No sooner did my mother hear the door- +bell ring than off she would carry me to our own apartment. This +greatly displeased Anna, who used again and again to assure my +mother that we were too proud for our station in life. In fact, +she would sulk for hours about it. At the time I could not +understand these reproaches, and it was not until long afterwards +that I learned--or rather, I guessed--why eventually my mother +declared that she could not go on living with Anna. Yes, Anna was +a bad woman. Never did she let us alone. As to the exact motive +why she had asked us to come and share her house with her I am +still in the dark. At first she was not altogether unkind to us +but, later, she revealed to us her real character--as soon, that +is to say, as she saw that we were at her mercy, and had nowhere +else to go. Yes, in early days she was quite kind to me--even +offensively so, but afterwards, I had to suffer as much as my +mother. Constantly did Anna reproach us; constantly did she +remind us of her benefactions, and introduce us to her friends as +poor relatives of hers whom, out of goodness of heart and for the +love of Christ, she had received into her bosom. At table, also, +she would watch every mouthful that we took; and, if our appetite +failed, immediately she would begin as before, and reiterate that +we were over-dainty, that we must not assume that riches would +mean happiness, and that we had better go and live by ourselves. +Moreover, she never ceased to inveigh against my father--saying +that he had sought to be better than other people, and thereby +had brought himself to a bad end; that he had left his wife and +daughter destitute; and that, but for the fact that we had +happened to meet with a kind and sympathetic Christian soul, God +alone knew where we should have laid our heads, save in the +street. What did that woman not say? To hear her was not so much +galling as disgusting. From time to time my mother would burst +into tears, her health grew worse from day to day, and her body +was becoming sheer skin and bone. All the while, too, we had to +work--to work from morning till night, for we had contrived to +obtain some employment as occasional sempstresses. This, however, +did not please Anna, who used to tell us that there was no room +in her house for a modiste's establishment. Yet we had to get +clothes to wear, to provide for unforeseen expenses, and to have +a little money at our disposal in case we should some day wish to +remove elsewhere. Unfortunately, the strain undermined my +mother's health, and she became gradually weaker. Sickness, like +a cankerworm, was gnawing at her life, and dragging her towards +the tomb. Well could I see what she was enduring, what she was +suffering. Yes, it all lay open to my eyes. + +Day succeeded day, and each day was like the last one. We lived a +life as quiet as though we had been in the country. Anna herself +grew quieter in proportion as she came to realise the extent of +her power over us. In nothing did we dare to thwart her. From her +portion of the house our apartment was divided by a corridor, +while next to us (as mentioned above) dwelt a certain Pokrovski, +who was engaged in teaching Sasha the French and German +languages, as well as history and geography--"all the sciences," +as Anna used to say. In return for these services he received +free board and lodging. As for Sasha, she was a clever, but rude +and uncouth, girl of thirteen. On one occasion Anna remarked to +my mother that it might be as well if I also were to take some +lessons, seeing that my education had been neglected at school; +and, my mother joyfully assenting, I joined Sasha for a year in +studying under this Pokrovski. + +The latter was a poor--a very poor--young man whose health would +not permit of his undertaking the regular university course. +Indeed, it was only for form's sake that we called him "The +Student." He lived in such a quiet, humble, retiring fashion that +never a sound reached us from his room. Also, his exterior was +peculiar--he moved and walked awkwardly, and uttered his words in +such a strange manner that at first I could never look at him +without laughing. Sasha was for ever playing tricks upon him-- +more especially when he was giving us our lessons. But +unfortunately, he was of a temperament as excitable as herself. +Indeed, he was so irritable that the least trifle would send him +into a frenzy, and set him shouting at us, and complaining of our +conduct. Sometimes he would even rush away to his room before +school hours were over, and sit there for days over his books, of +which he had a store that was both rare and valuable. In +addition, he acted as teacher at another establishment, and +received payment for his services there; and, whenever he had +received his fees for this extra work, he would hasten off and +purchase more books. + +In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was +a good, worthy fellow--more so than any of the people with whom +we otherwise came in contact. My mother in particular had a great +respect for him, and, after herself, he was my best friend. But +at first I was just an overgrown hoyden, and joined Sasha in +playing the fool. For hours we would devise tricks to anger and +distract him, for he looked extremely ridiculous when he was +angry, and so diverted us the more (ashamed though I am now to +admit it). But once, when we had driven him nearly to tears, I +heard him say to himself under his breath, "What cruel children!" +and instantly I repented--I began to feel sad and ashamed and +sorry for him. I reddened to my ears, and begged him, almost with +tears, not to mind us, nor to take offence at our stupid jests. +Nevertheless, without finishing the lesson, he closed his book, +and departed to his own room. All that day I felt torn with +remorse. To think that we two children had forced him, the poor, +the unhappy one, to remember his hard lot! And at night I could +not sleep for grief and regret. Remorse is said to bring relief +to the soul, but it is not so. How far my grief was internally +connected with my conceit I do not know, but at least I did not +wish him to think me a baby, seeing that I had now reached the +age of fifteen years. Therefore, from that day onwards I began to +torture my imagination with devising a thousand schemes which +should compel Pokrovski to alter his opinion of me. At the same +time, being yet shy and reserved by nature, I ended by finding +that, in my present position, I could make up my mind to nothing +but vague dreams (and such dreams I had). However, I ceased to +join Sasha in playing the fool, while Pokrovski, for his part, +ceased to lose his temper with us so much. Unfortunately this was +not enough to satisfy my self-esteem. + +At this point, I must say a few words about the strangest, the +most interesting, the most pitiable human being that I have ever +come across. I speak of him now--at this particular point in +these memoirs--for the reason that hitherto I had paid him no +attention whatever, and began to do so now only because +everything connected with Pokrovski had suddenly become of +absorbing interest in my eyes. + +Sometimes there came to the house a ragged, poorly-dressed, grey- +headed, awkward, amorphous--in short, a very strange-looking-- +little old man. At first glance it might have been thought that +he was perpetually ashamed of something--that he had on his +conscience something which always made him, as it were, bristle +up and then shrink into himself. Such curious starts and grimaces +did he indulge in that one was forced to conclude that he was +scarcely in his right mind. On arriving, he would halt for a +while by the window in the hall, as though afraid to enter; +until, should any one happen to pass in or out of the door-- +whether Sasha or myself or one of the servants (to the latter he +always resorted the most readily, as being the most nearly akin +to his own class)--he would begin to gesticulate and to beckon to +that person, and to make various signs. Then, should the person +in question nod to him, or call him by name (the recognised token +that no other visitor was present, and that he might enter +freely), he would open the door gently, give a smile of +satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together, and proceed on +tiptoe to young Pokrovski's room. This old fellow was none other +than Pokrovski's father. + +Later I came to know his story in detail. Formerly a civil +servant, he had possessed no additional means, and so had +occupied a very low and insignificant position in the service. +Then, after his first wife (mother of the younger Pokrovski) had +died, the widower bethought him of marrying a second time, and +took to himself a tradesman's daughter, who soon assumed the +reins over everything, and brought the home to rack and ruin, so +that the old man was worse off than before. But to the younger +Pokrovski, fate proved kinder, for a landowner named Bwikov, who +had formerly known the lad's father and been his benefactor, took +the boy under his protection, and sent him to school. Another +reason why this Bwikov took an interest in young Pokrovski was +that he had known the lad's dead mother, who, while still a +serving-maid, had been befriended by Anna Thedorovna, and +subsequently married to the elder Pokrovski. At the wedding +Bwikov, actuated by his friendship for Anna, conferred upon the +young bride a dowry of five thousand roubles; but whither that +money had since disappeared I cannot say. It was from Anna's lips +that I heard the story, for the student Pokrovski was never prone +to talk about his family affairs. His mother was said to have +been very good-looking; wherefore, it is the more mysterious why +she should have made so poor a match. She died when young--only +four years after her espousal. + +From school the young Pokrovski advanced to a gymnasium, +[Secondary school.] and thence to the University, where Bwikov, +who frequently visited the capital, continued to accord the youth +his protection. Gradually, however, ill health put an end to the +young man's university course; whereupon Bwikov introduced and +personally recommended him to Anna Thedorovna, and he came to +lodge with her on condition that he taught Sasha whatever might +be required of him. + +Grief at the harshness of his wife led the elder Pokrovski to +plunge into dissipation, and to remain in an almost permanent +condition of drunkenness. Constantly his wife beat him, or sent +him to sit in the kitchen-- with the result that in time, he +became so inured to blows and neglect, that he ceased to +complain. Still not greatly advanced in years, he had +nevertheless endangered his reason through evil courses--his only +sign of decent human feeling being his love for his son. The +latter was said to resemble his dead mother as one pea may +resemble another. What recollections, therefore, of the kind +helpmeet of former days may not have moved the breast of the poor +broken old man to this boundless affection for the boy? Of naught +else could the father ever speak but of his son, and never did he +fail to visit him twice a week. To come oftener he did not dare, +for the reason that the younger Pokrovski did not like these +visits of his father's. In fact, there can be no doubt that the +youth's greatest fault was his lack of filial respect. Yet the +father was certainly rather a difficult person to deal with, for, +in the first place, he was extremely inquisitive, while, in the +second place, his long-winded conversation and questions-- +questions of the most vapid and senseless order conceivable-- +always prevented the son from working. Likewise, the old man +occasionally arrived there drunk. Gradually, however, the son was +weaning his parent from his vicious ways and everlasting +inquisitiveness, and teaching the old man to look upon him, his +son, as an oracle, and never to speak without that son's +permission. + +On the subject of his Petinka, as he called him, the poor old man +could never sufficiently rhapsodise and dilate. Yet when he +arrived to see his son he almost invariably had on his face a +downcast, timid expression that was probably due to uncertainty +concerning the way in which he would be received. For a long time +he would hesitate to enter, and if I happened to be there he +would question me for twenty minutes or so as to whether his +Petinka was in good health, as well as to the sort of mood he was +in, whether he was engaged on matters of importance, what +precisely he was doing (writing or meditating), and so on. Then, +when I had sufficiently encouraged and reassured the old man, he +would make up his mind to enter, and quietly and cautiously open +the door. Next, he would protrude his head through the chink, and +if he saw that his son was not angry, but threw him a nod, he +would glide noiselessly into the room, take off his scarf, and +hang up his hat (the latter perennially in a bad state of repair, +full of holes, and with a smashed brim)--the whole being done +without a word or a sound of any kind. Next, the old man would +seat himself warily on a chair, and, never removing his eyes from +his son, follow his every movement, as though seeking to gauge +Petinka's state of mind. On the other hand, if the son was not in +good spirits, the father would make a note of the fact, and at +once get up, saying that he had "only called for a minute or +two," that, "having been out for a long walk, and happening at +the moment to be passing," he had "looked in for a moment's +rest." Then silently and humbly the old man would resume his hat +and scarf; softly he would open the door, and noiselessly depart +with a forced smile on his face--the better to bear the +disappointment which was seething in his breast, the better to +help him not to show it to his son. + +On the other hand, whenever the son received his father civilly +the old man would be struck dumb with joy. Satisfaction would +beam in his face, in his every gesture, in his every movement. +And if the son deigned to engage in conversation with him, the +old man always rose a little from his chair, and answered softly, +sympathetically, with something like reverence, while strenuously +endeavouring to make use of the most recherche (that is to say, +the most ridiculous) expressions. But, alas! He had not the gift +of words. Always he grew confused, and turned red in the face; +never did he know what to do with his hands or with himself. +Likewise, whenever he had returned an answer of any kind, he +would go on repeating the same in a whisper, as though he were +seeking to justify what he had just said. And if he happened to +have returned a good answer, he would begin to preen himself, and +to straighten his waistcoat, frockcoat and tie, and to assume an +air of conscious dignity. Indeed, on these occasions he would +feel so encouraged, he would carry his daring to such a pitch, +that, rising softly from his chair, he would approach the +bookshelves, take thence a book, and read over to himself some +passage or another. All this he would do with an air of feigned +indifference and sangfroid, as though he were free ALWAYS to use +his son's books, and his son's kindness were no rarity at all. +Yet on one occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale +on being told by his son not to touch the books. Abashed and +confused, he, in his awkward hurry, replaced the volume wrong +side uppermost; whereupon, with a supreme effort to recover +himself, he turned it round with a smile and a blush, as though +he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. Gradually, as +already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father from his +dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three +successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes, +also, the younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or +a waistcoat; whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his +acquisition as a peacock. Not infrequently, also, the old man +would step in to visit ourselves, and bring Sasha and myself +gingerbread birds or apples, while talking unceasingly of +Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay attention to our +lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an exemplary +son, a son who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after +which he would wink at us so quizzingly with his left eye, and +twist himself about in such amusing fashion, that we were forced +to burst out laughing. My mother had a great liking for him, but +he detested Anna Thedorovna--although in her presence he would be +quieter than water and lowlier than the earth. + +Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now +he thought me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha; +and this hurt me extremely, seeing that I had done so much to +expiate my former behaviour. Of my efforts in this direction no +notice had been taken, and the fact continued to anger me more +and more. Scarcely ever did I address a word to my tutor between +school hours, for I simply could not bring myself to do it. If I +made the attempt I only grew red and confused, and rushed away to +weep in a corner. How it would all have ended I do not know, had +not a curious incident helped to bring about a rapprochement. One +evening, when my mother was sitting in Anna Thedorovna's room, I +crept on tiptoe to Pokrovski's apartment, in the belief that he +was not at home. Some strange impulse moved me to do so. True, we +had lived cheek by jowl with one another; yet never once had I +caught a glimpse of his abode. Consequently my heart beat loudly- +- so loudly, indeed, that it seemed almost to be bursting from my +breast. On entering the room I glanced around me with tense +interest. The apartment was very poorly furnished, and bore few +traces of orderliness. On table and chairs there lay heaps of +books; everywhere were books and papers. Then a strange thought +entered my head, as well as, with the thought, an unpleasant +feeling of irritation. It seemed to me that my friendship, my +heart's affection, meant little to him, for HE was well-educated, +whereas I was stupid, and had learned nothing, and had read not a +single book. So I stood looking wistfully at the long bookshelves +where they groaned under their weight of volumes. I felt filled +with grief, disappointment, and a sort of frenzy. I felt that I +MUST read those books, and decided to do so--to read them one by +one, and with all possible speed. Probably the idea was that, by +learning whatsoever HE knew, I should render myself more worthy +of his friendship. So, I made a rush towards the bookcase nearest +me, and, without stopping further to consider matters, seized +hold of the first dusty tome upon which my hands chanced to +alight, and, reddening and growing pale by turns, and trembling +with fear and excitement, clasped the stolen book to my breast +with the intention of reading it by candle light while my mother +lay asleep at night. + +But how vexed I felt when, on returning to our own room, and +hastily turning the pages, only an old, battered worm-eaten Latin +work greeted my eyes! Without loss of time I retraced my steps. +Just when I was about to replace the book I heard a noise in the +corridor outside, and the sound of footsteps approaching. +Fumblingly I hastened to complete what I was about, but the +tiresome book had become so tightly wedged into its row that, on +being pulled out, it caused its fellows to close up too compactly +to leave any place for their comrade. To insert the book was +beyond my strength; yet still I kept pushing and pushing at the +row. At last the rusty nail which supported the shelf (the thing +seemed to have been waiting on purpose for that moment!) broke +off short; with the result that the shelf descended with a crash, +and the books piled themselves in a heap on the floor! Then the +door of the room opened, and Pokrovski entered! + +I must here remark that he never could bear to have his +possessions tampered with. Woe to the person, in particular, who +touched his books! Judge, therefore, of my horror when books +small and great, books of every possible shape and size and +thickness, came tumbling from the shelf, and flew and sprang over +the table, and under the chairs, and about the whole room. I +would have turned and fled, but it was too late. "All is over!" +thought I. "All is over! I am ruined, I am undone! Here have I +been playing the fool like a ten-year-old child! What a stupid +girl I am! The monstrous fool!" + +Indeed, Pokrovski was very angry. "What? Have you not done +enough?" he cried. "Are you not ashamed to be for ever indulging +in such pranks? Are you NEVER going to grow sensible?" With that +he darted forward to pick up the books, while I bent down to help +him. + +"You need not, you need not!" he went on. "You would have done +far better not to have entered without an invitation." + +Next, a little mollified by my humble demeanour, he resumed in +his usual tutorial tone--the tone which he had adopted in his +new- found role of preceptor: + +"When are you going to grow steadier and more thoughtful? +Consider yourself for a moment. You are no longer a child, a +little girl, but a maiden of fifteen." + +Then, with a desire (probably) to satisfy himself that I was no +longer a being of tender years, he threw me a glance--but +straightway reddened to his very ears. This I could not +understand, but stood gazing at him in astonishment. Presently, +he straightened himself a little, approached me with a sort of +confused expression, and haltingly said something--probably it +was an apology for not having before perceived that I was now a +grown-up young person. But the next moment I understood. What I +did I hardly know, save that, in my dismay and confusion, I +blushed even more hotly than he had done and, covering my face +with my hands, rushed from the room. + +What to do with myself for shame I could not think. The one +thought in my head was that he had surprised me in his room. For +three whole days I found myself unable to raise my eyes to his, +but blushed always to the point of weeping. The strangest and +most confused of thoughts kept entering my brain. One of them-- +the most extravagant--was that I should dearly like to go to +Pokrovski, and to explain to him the situation, and to make full +confession, and to tell him everything without concealment, and +to assure him that I had not acted foolishly as a minx, but +honestly and of set purpose. In fact, I DID make up my mind to +take this course, but lacked the necessary courage to do it. If I +had done so, what a figure I should have cut! Even now I am +ashamed to think of it. + +A few days later, my mother suddenly fell dangerously ill. For +two days past she had not left her bed, while during the third +night of her illness she became seized with fever and delirium. I +also had not closed my eyes during the previous night, but now +waited upon my mother, sat by her bed, brought her drink at +intervals, and gave her medicine at duly appointed hours. The +next night I suffered terribly. Every now and then sleep would +cause me to nod, and objects grow dim before my eyes. Also, my +head was turning dizzy, and I could have fainted for very +weariness. Yet always my mother's feeble moans recalled me to +myself as I started, momentarily awoke, and then again felt +drowsiness overcoming me. What torture it was! I do not know, I +cannot clearly remember, but I think that, during a moment when +wakefulness was thus contending with slumber, a strange dream, a +horrible vision, visited my overwrought brain, and I awoke in +terror. The room was nearly in darkness, for the candle was +flickering, and throwing stray beams of light which suddenly +illuminated the room, danced for a moment on the walls, and then +disappeared. Somehow I felt afraid--a sort of horror had come +upon me--my imagination had been over-excited by the evil dream +which I had experienced, and a feeling of oppression was crushing +my heart.... I leapt from the chair, and involuntarily uttered a +cry--a cry wrung from me by the terrible, torturing sensation +that was upon me. Presently the door opened, and Pokrovski +entered. + +I remember that I was in his arms when I recovered my senses. +Carefully seating me on a bench, he handed me a glass of water, +and then asked me a few questions--though how I answered them I +do not know. "You yourself are ill," he said as he took my hand. +"You yourself are VERY ill. You are feverish, and I can see that +you are knocking yourself out through your neglect of your own +health. Take a little rest. Lie down and go to sleep. Yes, lie +down, lie down," he continued without giving me time to protest. +Indeed, fatigue had so exhausted my strength that my eyes were +closing from very weakness. So I lay down on the bench with the +intention of sleeping for half an hour only; but, I slept till +morning. Pokrovski then awoke me, saying that it was time for me +to go and give my mother her medicine. + +When the next evening, about eight o'clock, I had rested a little +and was preparing to spend the night in a chair beside my mother +(fixedly meaning not to go to sleep this time), Pokrovski +suddenly knocked at the door. I opened it, and he informed me +that, since, possibly, I might find the time wearisome, he had +brought me a few books to read. I accepted the books, but do not, +even now, know what books they were, nor whether I looked into +them, despite the fact that I never closed my eyes the whole +night long. The truth was that a strange feeling of excitement +was preventing me from sleeping, and I could not rest long in any +one spot, but had to keep rising from my chair, and walking about +the room. Throughout my whole being there seemed to be diffused a +kind of elation--of elation at Pokrovski's attentions, at the +thought that he was anxious and uneasy about me. Until dawn I +pondered and dreamed; and though I felt sure Pokrovski would not +again visit us that night, I gave myself up to fancies concerning +what he might do the following evening. + +That evening, when everyone else in the house had retired to +rest, Pokrovski opened his door, and opened a conversation from +the threshold of his room. Although, at this distance of time, I +cannot remember a word of what we said to one another, I remember +that I blushed, grew confused, felt vexed with myself, and +awaited with impatience the end of the conversation although I +myself had been longing for the meeting to take place, and had +spent the day in dreaming of it, and devising a string of +suitable questions and replies. Yes, that evening saw the first +strand in our friendship knitted; and each subsequent night of my +mother's illness we spent several hours together. Little by +little I overcame his reserve, but found that each of these +conversations left me filled with a sense of vexation at myself. +At the same time, I could see with secret joy and a sense of +proud elation that I was leading him to forget his tiresome +books. At last the conversation turned jestingly upon the +upsetting of the shelf. The moment was a peculiar one, for it +came upon me just when I was in the right mood for self- +revelation and candour. In my ardour, my curious phase of +exaltation, I found myself led to make a full confession of the +fact that I had become wishful to learn, to KNOW, something, +since I had felt hurt at being taken for a chit, a mere baby. . . +. I repeat that that night I was in a very strange frame of mind. +My heart was inclined to be tender, and there were tears standing +in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal as I told him about my +friendship for him, about my desire to love him, about my scheme +for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and making +his life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion +mingled with astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I +began to feel terribly pained and disappointed, for I conceived +that he had failed to understand me, or even that he might be +laughing at me. Bursting into tears like a child, I sobbed, and +could not stop myself, for I had fallen into a kind of fit; +whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and clasped it to his +breast--saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort me, for he +was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said I do +not remember--I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed, +and found myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my +agitation, I noticed that about him there still lingered an air +of constraint and uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at +my enthusiasm and raptures--at my curiously ardent, unexpected, +consuming friendship. It may be that at first he was amazed, but +that afterwards he accepted my devotion and words of invitation +and expressions of interest with the same simple frankness as I +had offered them, and responded to them with an interest, a +friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a friend or a +brother would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my +heart! Nothing had I concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all +to his sight, and each day would see him draw nearer to me. + +Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those +painful, yet rapturous, hours when, by the trembling light of a +lamp, and almost at the very bedside of my poor sick mother, we +kept midnight tryst. Whatsoever first came into our heads we +spoke of--whatsoever came riven from our hearts, whatsoever +seemed to call for utterance, found voice. And almost always we +were happy. What a grievous, yet joyous, period it was--a period +grievous and joyous at the same time! To this day it both hurts +and delights me to recall it. Joyous or bitter though it was, its +memories are yet painful. At least they seem so to me, though a +certain sweetness assuaged the pain. So, whenever I am feeling +heartsick and oppressed and jaded and sad those memories return +to freshen and revive me, even as drops of evening dew return to +freshen and revive, after a sultry day, the poor faded flower +which has long been drooping in the noontide heat. + +My mother grew better, but still I continued to spend the nights +on a chair by her bedside. Often, too, Pokrovski would give me +books. At first I read them merely so as to avoid going to sleep, +but afterwards I examined them with more attention, and +subsequently with actual avidity, for they opened up to me a new, +an unexpected, an unknown, an unfamiliar world. New thoughts, +added to new impressions, would come pouring into my heart in a +rich flood; and the more emotion, the more pain and labour, it +cost me to assimilate these new impressions, the dearer did they +become to me, and the more gratefully did they stir my soul to +its very depths. Crowding into my heart without giving it time +even to breathe, they would cause my whole being to become lost +in a wondrous chaos. Yet this spiritual ferment was not +sufficiently strong wholly to undo me. For that I was too +fanciful, and the fact saved me. + +With the passing of my mother's illness the midnight meetings and +long conversations between myself and Pokrovski came to an end. +Only occasionally did we exchange a few words with one another-- +words, for the most part, that were of little purport or +substance, yet words to which it delighted me to apportion their +several meanings, their peculiar secret values. My life had now +become full-- I was happy; I was quietly, restfully happy. Thus +did several weeks elapse.... + +One day the elder Pokrovski came to see us, and chattered in a +brisk, cheerful, garrulous sort of way. He laughed, launched out +into witticisms, and, finally, resolved the riddle of his +transports by informing us that in a week's time it would be his +Petinka's birthday, when, in honour of the occasion, he (the +father) meant to don a new jacket (as well as new shoes which his +wife was going to buy for him), and to come and pay a visit to +his son. In short, the old man was perfectly happy, and gossiped +about whatsoever first entered his head. + +My lover's birthday! Thenceforward, I could not rest by night or +day. Whatever might happen, it was my fixed intention to remind +Pokrovski of our friendship by giving him a present. But what +sort of present? Finally, I decided to give him books. I knew +that he had long wanted to possess a complete set of Pushkin's +works, in the latest edition; so, I decided to buy Pushkin. My +private fund consisted of thirty roubles, earned by handiwork, +and designed eventually to procure me a new dress, but at once I +dispatched our cook, old Matrena, to ascertain the price of such +an edition. Horrors! The price of the eleven volumes, added to +extra outlay upon the binding, would amount to at least SIXTY +roubles! Where was the money to come from? I thought and thought, +yet could not decide. I did not like to resort to my mother. Of +course she would help me, but in that case every one in the house +would become aware of my gift, and the gift itself would assume +the guise of a recompense--of payment for Pokrovski's labours on +my behalf during the past year; whereas, I wished to present the +gift ALONE, and without the knowledge of anyone. For the trouble +that he had taken with me I wished to be his perpetual debtor--to +make him no payment at all save my friendship. At length, I +thought of a way out of the difficulty. + +I knew that of the hucksters in the Gostinni Dvor one could +sometimes buy a book--even one that had been little used and was +almost entirely new--for a half of its price, provided that one +haggled sufficiently over it; wherefore I determined to repair +thither. It so happened that, next day, both Anna Thedorovna and +ourselves were in want of sundry articles; and since my mother +was unwell and Anna lazy, the execution of the commissions +devolved upon me, and I set forth with Matrena. + +Luckily, I soon chanced upon a set of Pushkin, handsomely bound, +and set myself to bargain for it. At first more was demanded than +would have been asked of me in a shop; but afterwards--though not +without a great deal of trouble on my part, and several feints at +departing--I induced the dealer to lower his price, and to limit +his demands to ten roubles in silver. How I rejoiced that I had +engaged in this bargaining! Poor Matrena could not imagine what +had come to me, nor why I so desired to buy books. But, oh horror +of horrors! As soon as ever the dealer caught sight of my capital +of thirty roubles in notes, he refused to let the Pushkin go for +less than the sum he had first named; and though, in answer to my +prayers and protestations, he eventually yielded a little, he did +so only to the tune of two-and-a-half roubles more than I +possessed, while swearing that he was making the concession for +my sake alone, since I was "a sweet young lady," and that he +would have done so for no one else in the world. To think that +only two-and-a-half roubles should still be wanting! I could have +wept with vexation. Suddenly an unlooked-for circumstance +occurred to help me in my distress. + +Not far away, near another table that was heaped with books, I +perceived the elder Pokrovski, and a crowd of four or five +hucksters plaguing him nearly out of his senses. Each of these +fellows was proffering the old man his own particular wares; and +while there was nothing that they did not submit for his +approval, there was nothing that he wished to buy. The poor old +fellow had the air of a man who is receiving a thrashing. What to +make of what he was being offered him he did not know. +Approaching him, I inquired what he happened to be doing there; +whereat the old man was delighted, since he liked me (it may be) +no less than he did Petinka. + +"I am buying some books, Barbara Alexievna," said he, "I am +buying them for my Petinka. It will be his birthday soon, and +since he likes books I thought I would get him some. " + +The old man always expressed himself in a very roundabout sort of +fashion, and on the present occasion he was doubly, terribly +confused. Of no matter what book he asked the price, it was sure +to be one, two, or three roubles. The larger books he could not +afford at all; he could only look at them wistfully, fumble their +leaves with his finger, turn over the volumes in his hands, and +then replace them. "No, no, that is too dear," he would mutter +under his breath. "I must go and try somewhere else." Then again +he would fall to examining copy-books, collections of poems, and +almanacs of the cheaper order. + +"Why should you buy things like those?" I asked him. "They are +such rubbish!" + +"No, no!" he replied. " See what nice books they are! Yes, they +ARE nice books!" Yet these last words he uttered so lingeringly +that I could see he was ready to weep with vexation at finding +the better sorts of books so expensive. Already a little tear was +trickling down his pale cheeks and red nose. I inquired whether +he had much money on him; whereupon the poor old fellow pulled +out his entire stock, wrapped in a piece of dirty newspaper, and +consisting of a few small silver coins, with twenty kopecks in +copper. At once I seized the lot, and, dragging him off to my +huckster, said: " Look here. These eleven volumes of Pushkin are +priced at thirty-two-and-a-half roubles, and I have only thirty +roubles. Let us add to them these two-and- a-half roubles of +yours, and buy the books together, and make them our joint gift." +The old man was overjoyed, and pulled out his money en masse; +whereupon the huckster loaded him with our common library. +Stuffing it into his pockets, as well as filling both arms with +it, he departed homewards with his prize, after giving me his +word to bring me the books privately on the morrow. + +Next day the old man came to see his son, and sat with him, as +usual, for about an hour; after which he visited ourselves, +wearing on his face the most comical, the most mysterious +expression conceivable. Smiling broadly with satisfaction at the +thought that he was the possessor of a secret, he informed me +that he had stealthily brought the books to our rooms, and hidden +them in a corner of the kitchen, under Matrena's care. Next, by a +natural transition, the conversation passed to the coming fete- +day; whereupon, the old man proceeded to hold forth extensively +on the subject of gifts. The further he delved into his thesis, +and the more he expounded it, the clearer could I see that on his +mind there was something which he could not, dared not, divulge. +So I waited and kept silent. The mysterious exaltation, the +repressed satisfaction which I had hitherto discerned in his +antics and grimaces and left-eyed winks gradually disappeared, +and he began to grow momentarily more anxious and uneasy. At +length he could contain himself no longer. + +"Listen, Barbara Alexievna," he said timidly. "Listen to what I +have got to say to you. When his birthday is come, do you take +TEN of the books, and give them to him yourself--that is, FOR +yourself, as being YOUR share of the gift. Then I will take the +eleventh book, and give it to him MYSELF, as being my gift. If we +do that, you will have a present for him and I shall have one-- +both of us alike." + +"Why do you not want us to present our gifts together, Zachar +Petrovitch?" I asked him. + +"Oh, very well," he replied. "Very well, Barbara Alexievna. Only- +only, I thought that--" + +The old man broke off in confusion, while his face flushed with +the exertion of thus expressing himself. For a moment or two he +sat glued to his seat. + +"You see," he went on, "I play the fool too much. I am forever +playing the fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it +is wrong to do so. At home it is often cold, and sometimes there +are other troubles as well, and it all makes me depressed. Well, +whenever that happens, I indulge a little, and occasionally drink +too much. Now, Petinka does not like that; he loses his temper +about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds me, and reads me +lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am mending my +ways, and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time +past, I have been saving up to buy him a book--yes, for a long +time past I have been saving up for it, since it is seldom that I +have any money, unless Petinka happens to give me some. He knows +that, and, consequently, as soon as ever he perceives the use to +which I have put his money, he will understand that it is for his +sake alone that I have acted." + +My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with +such anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. + +"I tell you what," I said. "Do you give him all the books." + +"ALL?" he ejaculated. "ALL the books?" + +"Yes, all of them." + +"As my own gift?" "Yes, as your own gift." + +"As my gift alone?" + +"Yes, as your gift alone." + +Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly +to understand me. + +"Well," said he after reflection, "that certainly would be +splendid--certainly it would be most splendid. But what about +yourself, Barbara Alexievna?" + +"Oh, I shall give your son nothing." + +"What?" he cried in dismay. "Are you going to give Petinka +nothing--do you WISH to give him nothing?" So put about was the +old fellow with what I had said, that he seemed almost ready to +renounce his own proposal if only I would give his son something. +What a kind heart he had! I hastened to assure him that I should +certainly have a gift of some sort ready, since my one wish was +to avoid spoiling his pleasure. + +"Provided that your son is pleased," I added, "and that you are +pleased, I shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I +shall feel as though I had presented the gift." + +This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another +couple of hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept +jumping up from his seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, +bestowing stealthy kisses upon myself, pinching my hands, and +making silent grimaces at Anna Thedorovna. At length, she turned +him out of the house. In short, his transports of joy exceeded +anything that I had yet beheld. + +On the festal day he arrived exactly at eleven o'clock, direct +from Mass. He was dressed in a carefully mended frockcoat, a new +waistcoat, and a pair of new shoes, while in his arms he carried +our pile of books. Next we all sat down to coffee (the day being +Sunday) in Anna Thedorovna's parlour. The old man led off the +meal by saying that Pushkin was a magnificent poet. Thereafter, +with a return to shamefacedness and confusion, he passed suddenly +to the statement that a man ought to conduct himself properly; +that, should he not do so, it might be taken as a sign that he +was in some way overindulging himself; and that evil tendencies +of this sort led to the man's ruin and degradation. Then the +orator sketched for our benefit some terrible instances of such +incontinence, and concluded by informing us that for some time +past he had been mending his own ways, and conducting himself in +exemplary fashion, for the reason that he had perceived the +justice of his son's precepts, and had laid them to heart so well +that he, the father, had really changed for the better: in proof +whereof, he now begged to present to the said son some books for +which he had long been setting aside his savings. + +As I listened to the old man I could not help laughing and crying +in a breath. Certainly he knew how to lie when the occasion +required! The books were transferred to his son's room, and +arranged upon a shelf, where Pokrovski at once guessed the truth +about them. Then the old man was invited to dinner and we all +spent a merry day together at cards and forfeits. Sasha was full +of life, and I rivalled her, while Pokrovski paid me numerous +attentions, and kept seeking an occasion to speak to me alone. +But to allow this to happen I refused. Yes, taken all in all, it +was the happiest day that I had known for four years. + +But now only grievous, painful memories come to my recollection, +for I must enter upon the story of my darker experiences. It may +be that that is why my pen begins to move more slowly, and seems +as though it were going altogether to refuse to write. The same +reason may account for my having undertaken so lovingly and +enthusiastically a recounting of even the smallest details of my +younger, happier days. But alas! those days did not last long, +and were succeeded by a period of black sorrow which will close +only God knows when! + +My misfortunes began with the illness and death of Pokrovski, who +was taken worse two months after what I have last recorded in +these memoirs. During those two months he worked hard to procure +himself a livelihood since hitherto he had had no assured +position. Like all consumptives, he never--not even up to his +last moment--altogether abandoned the hope of being able to enjoy +a long life. A post as tutor fell in his way, but he had never +liked the profession; while for him to become a civil servant was +out of the question, owing to his weak state of health. Moreover, +in the latter capacity he would have had to have waited a long +time for his first instalment of salary. Again, he always looked +at the darker side of things, for his character was gradually +being warped, and his health undermined by his illness, though he +never noticed it. Then autumn came on, and daily he went out to +business--that is to say, to apply for and to canvass for posts-- +clad only in a light jacket; with the result that, after repeated +soakings with rain, he had to take to his bed, and never again +left it. He died in mid-autumn at the close of the month of +October. + +Throughout his illness I scarcely ever left his room, but waited +on him hand and foot. Often he could not sleep for several nights +at a time. Often, too, he was unconscious, or else in a delirium; +and at such times he would talk of all sorts of things--of his +work, of his books, of his father, of myself. At such times I +learned much which I had not hitherto known or divined about his +affairs. During the early part of his illness everyone in the +house looked askance at me, and Anna Thedorovna would nod her +head in a meaning manner; but, I always looked them straight in +the face, and gradually they ceased to take any notice of my +concern for Pokrovski. At all events my mother ceased to trouble +her head about it. + +Sometimes Pokrovski would know who I was, but not often, for more +usually he was unconscious. Sometimes, too, he would talk all +night with some unknown person, in dim, mysterious language that +caused his gasping voice to echo hoarsely through the narrow room +as through a sepulchre; and at such times, I found the situation +a strange one. During his last night he was especially +lightheaded, for then he was in terrible agony, and kept rambling +in his speech until my soul was torn with pity. Everyone in the +house was alarmed, and Anna Thedorovna fell to praying that God +might soon take him. When the doctor had been summoned, the +verdict was that the patient would die with the morning. + +That night the elder Pokrovski spent in the corridor, at the door +of his son's room. Though given a mattress to lie upon, he spent +his time in running in and out of the apartment. So broken with +grief was he that he presented a dreadful spectacle, and appeared +to have lost both perception and feeling. His head trembled with +agony, and his body quivered from head to foot as at times he +murmured to himself something which he appeared to be debating. +Every moment I expected to see him go out of his mind. Just +before dawn he succumbed to the stress of mental agony, and fell +asleep on his mattress like a man who has been beaten; but by +eight o'clock the son was at the point of death, and I ran to +wake the father. The dying man was quite conscious, and bid us +all farewell. Somehow I could not weep, though my heart seemed to +be breaking. + +The last moments were the most harassing and heartbreaking of +all. For some time past Pokrovski had been asking for something +with his failing tongue, but I had been unable to distinguish his +words. Yet my heart had been bursting with grief. Then for an +hour he had lain quieter, except that he had looked sadly in my +direction, and striven to make some sign with his death-cold +hands. At last he again essayed his piteous request in a hoarse, +deep voice, but the words issued in so many inarticulate sounds, +and once more I failed to divine his meaning. By turns I brought +each member of the household to his bedside, and gave him +something to drink, but he only shook his head sorrowfully. +Finally, I understood what it was he wanted. He was asking me to +draw aside the curtain from the window, and to open the +casements. Probably he wished to take his last look at the +daylight and the sun and all God's world. I pulled back the +curtain, but the opening day was as dull and mournful--looking as +though it had been the fast-flickering life of the poor invalid. +Of sunshine there was none. Clouds overlaid the sky as with a +shroud of mist, and everything looked sad, rainy, and threatening +under a fine drizzle which was beating against the window-panes, +and streaking their dull, dark surfaces with runlets of cold, +dirty moisture. Only a scanty modicum of daylight entered to war +with the trembling rays of the ikon lamp. The dying man threw me +a wistful look, and nodded. The next moment he had passed away. + +The funeral was arranged for by Anna Thedorovna. A plain coffin +was bought, and a broken-down hearse hired; while, as security +for this outlay, she seized the dead man's books and other +articles. Nevertheless, the old man disputed the books with her, +and, raising an uproar, carried off as many of them as he could-- +stuffing his pockets full, and even filling his hat. Indeed, he +spent the next three days with them thus, and refused to let them +leave his sight even when it was time for him to go to church. +Throughout he acted like a man bereft of sense and memory. With +quaint assiduity he busied himself about the bier--now +straightening the candlestick on the dead man's breast, now +snuffing and lighting the other candles. Clearly his thoughts +were powerless to remain long fixed on any subject. Neither my +mother nor Anna Thedorovna were present at the requiem, for the +former was ill and the latter was at loggerheads with the old +man. Only myself and the father were there. During the service a +sort of panic, a sort of premonition of the future, came over me, +and I could hardly hold myself upright. At length the coffin had +received its burden and was screwed down; after which the bearers +placed it upon a bier, and set out. I accompanied the cortege +only to the end of the street. Here the driver broke into a trot, +and the old man started to run behind the hearse--sobbing loudly, +but with the motion of his running ever and anon causing the sobs +to quaver and become broken off. Next he lost his hat, the poor +old fellow, yet would not stop to pick it up, even though the +rain was beating upon his head, and a wind was rising and the +sleet kept stinging and lashing his face. It seemed as though he +were impervious to the cruel elements as he ran from one side of +the hearse to the other--the skirts of his old greatcoat flapping +about him like a pair of wings. From every pocket of the garment +protruded books, while in his hand he carried a specially large +volume, which he hugged closely to his breast. The passers-by +uncovered their heads and crossed themselves as the cortege +passed, and some of them, having done so, remained staring in +amazement at the poor old man. Every now and then a book would +slip from one of his pockets and fall into the mud; whereupon +somebody, stopping him, would direct his attention to his loss, +and he would stop, pick up the book, and again set off in pursuit +of the hearse. At the corner of the street he was joined by a +ragged old woman; until at length the hearse turned a corner, and +became hidden from my eyes. Then I went home, and threw myself, +in a transport of grief, upon my mother's breast--clasping her in +my arms, kissing her amid a storm of sobs and tears, and clinging +to her form as though in my embraces I were holding my last +friend on earth, that I might preserve her from death. Yet +already death was standing over her.... + +June 11th + +How I thank you for our walk to the Islands yesterday, Makar +Alexievitch! How fresh and pleasant, how full of verdure, was +everything! And I had not seen anything green for such a long +time! During my illness I used to think that I should never get +better, that I was certainly going to die. Judge, then, how I +felt yesterday! True, I may have seemed to you a little sad, and +you must not be angry with me for that. Happy and light-hearted +though I was, there were moments, even at the height of my +felicity, when, for some unknown reason, depression came sweeping +over my soul. I kept weeping about trifles, yet could not say why +I was grieved. The truth is that I am unwell--so much so, that I +look at everything from the gloomy point of view. The pale, clear +sky, the setting sun, the evening stillness--ah, somehow I felt +disposed to grieve and feel hurt at these things; my heart seemed +to be over-charged, and to be calling for tears to relieve it. +But why should I write this to you? It is difficult for my heart +to express itself; still more difficult for it to forego self- +expression. Yet possibly you may understand me. Tears and +laughter! . . . How good you are, Makar Alexievitch! Yesterday +you looked into my eyes as though you could read in them all that +I was feeling--as though you were rejoicing at my happiness. +Whether it were a group of shrubs or an alleyway or a vista of +water that we were passing, you would halt before me, and stand +gazing at my face as though you were showing me possessions of +your own. It told me how kind is your nature, and I love you for +it. Today I am again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and +took a chill. Thedora also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do +not forget me. Come and see me as often as you can.--Your own, + +BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. + + June 12th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--I had supposed that you meant to +describe our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there +has arrived only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must +say that, little though you have put into your letter, that +little is not expressed with rare beauty and grace. Nature, your +descriptions of rural scenes, your analysis of your own feelings- +-the whole is beautifully written. Alas, I have no such talent! +Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing comes of it-- I might +as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I know from +experience. + +You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not +harm my fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness +of God (as expressed in nature's handiwork), and so on. It may +all be so, my dearest one--it may all be exactly as you say. +Indeed, I think that you are right. But if so, the reason is that +when one reads such a letter as you have just sent me, one's +heart involuntarily softens, and affords entrance to thoughts of +a graver and weightier order. Listen, my darling; I have +something to tell you, my beloved one. + +I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and +first entered the service--though I shall soon have completed my +thirtieth year of official activity. I may say that at first I +was much pleased with my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I +grew in mind, and fell to studying my fellow-men. Likewise I may +say that I lived an upright life--so much so that at last I +incurred persecution. This you may not believe, but it is true. +To think that men so cruel should exist! For though, dearest one, +I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like everyone else. +Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I tell you what +these cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell it you--and +all because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured disposition! + +Things began with "this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your +fault." Then it went on to "I need hardly say that the fault is +wholly Makar Alexievitch's." Finally it became "OF COURSE Makar +Alexievitch is to blame." Do you see the sequence of things, my +darling? Every mistake was attributed to me, until "Makar +Alexievitch" became a byword in our department. Also, while +making of me a proverb, these fellows could not give me a smile +or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with my uniform, +with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to their +taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from that +day to this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can grow +accustomed to anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable +disposition, like all men of small stature)-- yet why should +these things be? Whom have I harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted? +Whom have I ever traduced to his superiors? No, the fault is that +more than once I have asked for an increase of salary. But have I +ever CABALLED for it? No, you would be wrong in thinking so, my +dearest one. HOW could I ever have done so? You yourself have had +many opportunities of seeing how incapable I am of deceit or +chicanery. + +Why then, should this have fallen to my lot? . . . However, since +you think me worthy of respect, my darling, I do not care, for +you are far and away the best person in the world. . . . What do +you consider to be the greatest social virtue? In private +conversation Evstafi Ivanovitch once told me that the greatest +social virtue might be considered to be an ability to get money +to spend. Also, my comrades used jestingly (yes, I know only +jestingly) to propound the ethical maxim that a man ought never +to let himself become a burden upon anyone. Well, I am a burden +upon no one. It is my own crust of bread that I eat; and though +that crust is but a poor one, and sometimes actually a maggoty +one, it has at least been EARNED, and therefore, is being put to +a right and lawful use. What therefore, ought I to do? I know +that I can earn but little by my labours as a copyist; yet even +of that little I am proud, for it has entailed WORK, and has +wrung sweat from my brow. What harm is there in being a copyist? +"He is only an amanuensis," people say of me. But what is there +so disgraceful in that? My writing is at least legible, neat, and +pleasant to look upon--and his Excellency is satisfied with it. +Indeed, I transcribe many important documents. At the same time, +I know that my writing lacks STYLE, which is why I have never +risen in the service. Even to you, my dear one, I write simply +and without tricks, but just as a thought may happen to enter my +head. Yes, I know all this; but if everyone were to become a fine +writer, who would there be left to act as copyists? . . . +Whatsoever questions I may put to you in my letters, dearest, I +pray you to answer them. I am sure that you need me, that I can +be of use to you; and, since that is so, I must not allow myself +to be distracted by any trifle. Even if I be likened to a rat, I +do not care, provided that that particular rat be wanted by you, +and be of use in the world, and be retained in its position, and +receive its reward. But what a rat it is! + +Enough of this, dearest one. I ought not to have spoken of it, +but I lost my temper. Still, it is pleasant to speak the truth +sometimes. Goodbye, my own, my darling, my sweet little +comforter! I will come to you soon--yes, I will certainly come to +you. Until I do so, do not fret yourself. With me I shall be +bringing a book. Once more goodbye.--Your heartfelt well-wisher, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + June 20th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I am writing to you post-haste--I +am hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do +you suppose is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity +has occurred for you to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells +me that a retired civil servant of her acquaintance has a uniform +to sell--one cut to regulation pattern and in good repair, as +well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO not tell me that you +have not got the money, for I know from your own lips that you +HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See what +terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful--they are +patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That +this is so, I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me +about it. So listen to me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it +for MY sake. Do it to show that you really love me. + +You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar +Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that +you should spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money, +upon me? How you love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I +do not need it, that such expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I +am CERTAIN, that you love me-- therefore, it is useless to remind +me of the fact with gifts. Nor do I like receiving them, since I +know how much they must have cost you. No-- put your money to a +better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to do so. Also, you ask me +to send you a continuation of my memoirs--to conclude them. But I +know not how I contrived even to write as much of them as I did; +and now I have not the strength to write further of my past, nor +the desire to give it a single thought. Such recollections are +terrible to me. Most difficult of all is it for me to speak of my +poor mother, who left her destitute daughter a prey to villains. +My heart runs blood whenever I think of it; it is so fresh in my +memory that I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor rest for +its insistence, although a year has now elapsed since the events +took place. But all this you know. + +Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She +accuses me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made +against herself with regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps +sending for me, and telling me that I have taken to evil courses, +but that if I will return to her, she will smooth over matters +with Bwikov, and force him to confess his fault. Also, she says +that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them all! I am +quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to me +reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman +though you may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other +people I do not wish to know, and would gladly forget if I could. +. . . What are they wanting with me now? Thedora declares it all +to be a trick, and says that in time they will leave me alone. +God grant it be so! + +B. D. + + + +June 21st. + +MY OWN, MY DARLING,--I wish to write to you, yet know not where +to begin. Things are as strange as though we were actually living +together. Also I would add that never in my life have I passed +such happy days as I am spending at present. 'Tis as though God +had blessed me with a home and a family of my own! Yes, you are +my little daughter, beloved. But why mention the four sorry +roubles that I sent you? You needed them; I know that from +Thedora herself, and it will always be a particular pleasure to +me to gratify you in anything. It will always be my one happiness +in life. Pray, therefore, leave me that happiness, and do not +seek to cross me in it. Things are not as you suppose. I have now +reached the sunshine since, in the first place, I am living so +close to you as almost to be with you (which is a great +consolation to my mind), while, in the second place, a neighbour +of mine named Rataziaev (the retired official who gives the +literary parties) has today invited me to tea. This evening, +therefore, there will be a gathering at which we shall discuss +literature! Think of that my darling! Well, goodbye now. I have +written this without any definite aim in my mind, but solely to +assure you of my welfare. Through Theresa I have received your +message that you need an embroidered cloak to wear, so I will go +and purchase one. Yes, tomorrow I mean to purchase that +embroidered cloak, and so give myself the pleasure of having +satisfied one of your wants. I know where to go for such a +garment. For the time being I remain your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +June 22nd. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have to tell you that a sad +event has happened in this house--an event to excite one's utmost +pity. This morning, about five o'clock, one of Gorshkov's +children died of scarlatina, or something of the kind. I have +been to pay the parents a visit of condolence, and found them +living in the direst poverty and disorder. Nor is that +surprising, seeing that the family lives in a single room, with +only a screen to divide it for decency's sake. Already the coffin +was standing in their midst--a plain but decent shell which had +been bought ready-made. The child, they told me, had been a boy +of nine, and full of promise. What a pitiful spectacle! Though +not weeping, the mother, poor woman, looked broken with grief. +After all, to have one burden the less on their shoulders may +prove a relief, though there are still two children left--a babe +at the breast and a little girl of six! How painful to see these +suffering children, and to be unable to help them! The father, +clad in an old, dirty frockcoat, was seated on a dilapidated +chair. Down his cheeks there were coursing tears--though less +through grief than owing to a long-standing affliction of the +eyes. He was so thin, too! Always he reddens in the face when he +is addressed, and becomes too confused to answer. A little girl, +his daughter, was leaning against the coffin--her face looking so +worn and thoughtful, poor mite! Do you know, I cannot bear to see +a child look thoughtful. On the floor there lay a rag doll, but +she was not playing with it as, motionless, she stood there with +her finger to her lips. Even a bon-bon which the landlady had +given her she was not eating. Is it not all sad, sad, Barbara? + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + June 25th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I return you your book. In my +opinion it is a worthless one, and I would rather not have it in +my possession. Why do you save up your money to buy such trash? +Except in jest, do such books really please you? However, you +have now promised to send me something else to read. I will share +the cost of it. Now, farewell until we meet again. I have nothing +more to say. + +B. D. + + + + June 26th. + +MY DEAR LITTLE BARBARA--To tell you the truth, I myself have not +read the book of which you speak. That is to say, though I began +to read it, I soon saw that it was nonsense, and written only to +make people laugh. "However," thought I, "it is at least a +CHEERFUL work, and so may please Barbara." That is why I sent it +you. + +Rataziaev has now promised to give me something really literary +to read; so you shall soon have your book, my darling. He is a +man who reflects; he is a clever fellow, as well as himself a +writer--such a writer! His pen glides along with ease, and in +such a style (even when he is writing the most ordinary, the most +insignificant of articles) that I have often remarked upon the +fact, both to Phaldoni and to Theresa. Often, too, I go to spend +an evening with him. He reads aloud to us until five o'clock in +the morning, and we listen to him. It is a revelation of things +rather than a reading. It is charming, it is like a bouquet of +flowers--there is a bouquet of flowers in every line of each +page. Besides, he is such an approachable, courteous, kind- +hearted fellow! What am I compared with him? Why, nothing, simply +nothing! He is a man of reputation, whereas I--well, I do not +exist at all. Yet he condescends to my level. At this very moment +I am copying out a document for him. But you must not think that +he finds any DIFFICULTY in condescending to me, who am only a +copyist. No, you must not believe the base gossip that you may +hear. I do copying work for him simply in order to please myself, +as well as that he may notice me--a thing that always gives me +pleasure. I appreciate the delicacy of his position. He is a +good--a very good--man, and an unapproachable writer. + +What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara--what a splendid +thing! This I learnt before I had known Rataziaev even for three +days. It strengthens and instructs the heart of man. . . . No +matter what there be in the world, you will find it all written +down in Rataziaev's works. And so well written down, too! +Literature is a sort of picture--a sort of picture or mirror. It +connotes at once passion, expression, fine criticism, good +learning, and a document. Yes, I have learned this from Rataziaev +himself. I can assure you, Barbara, that if only you could be +sitting among us, and listening to the talk (while, with the rest +of us, you smoked a pipe), and were to hear those present begin +to argue and dispute concerning different matters, you would feel +of as little account among them as I do; for I myself figure +there only as a blockhead, and feel ashamed, since it takes me a +whole evening to think of a single word to interpolate--and even +then the word will not come! In a case like that a man regrets +that, as the proverb has it, he should have reached man's estate +but not man's understanding. . . . What do I do in my spare time? +I sleep like a fool, though I would far rather be occupied with +something else--say, with eating or writing, since the one is +useful to oneself, and the other is beneficial to one's fellows. +You should see how much money these fellows contrive to save! How +much, for instance, does not Rataziaev lay by? A few days' +writing, I am told, can earn him as much as three hundred +roubles! Indeed, if a man be a writer of short stories or +anything else that is interesting, he can sometimes pocket five +hundred roubles, or a thousand, at a time! Think of it, Barbara! +Rataziaev has by him a small manuscript of verses, and for it he +is asking--what do you think? Seven thousand roubles! Why, one +could buy a whole house for that sum! He has even refused five +thousand for a manuscript, and on that occasion I reasoned with +him, and advised him to accept the five thousand. But it was of +no use. "For," said he, "they will soon offer me seven thousand," +and kept to his point, for he is a man of some determination. + +Suppose, now, that I were to give you an extract from "Passion in +Italy" (as another work of his is called). Read this, dearest +Barbara, and judge for yourself: + +"Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had +welled until it had reached boiling point. + +"'Countess,' he cried, 'do you know how terrible is this +adoration of mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have +not deceived me--I love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a +madman might! All the blood that is in your husband's body could +never quench the furious, surging rapture that is in my soul! No +puny obstacle could thwart the all-destroying, infernal flame +which is eating into my exhausted breast! Oh Zinaida, my +Zinaida!' + +"'Vladimir!' she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank +upon his bosom. + +"'My Zinaida!' cried the enraptured Smileski once more. + +"His breath was coming in sharp, broken pants. The lamp of love +was burning brightly on the altar of passion, and searing the +hearts of the two unfortunate sufferers. + +"'Vladimir!' again she whispered in her intoxication, while her +bosom heaved, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. + +"Thus was a new and dread union consummated. + +"Half an hour later the aged Count entered his wife's boudoir. + +"'How now, my love?' said he. 'Surely it is for some welcome +guest beyond the common that you have had the samovar [Tea-urn.] +thus prepared?' And he smote her lightly on the cheek." + +What think you of THAT, Barbara? True, it is a little too +outspoken--there can be no doubt of that; yet how grand it is, +how splendid! With your permission I will also quote you an +extract from Rataziaev's story, Ermak and Zuleika: + +"'You love me, Zuleika? Say again that you love me, you love me!' + +"'I DO love you, Ermak,' whispered Zuleika. + +"'Then by heaven and earth I thank you! By heaven and earth you +have made me happy! You have given me all, all that my tortured +soul has for immemorial years been seeking! 'Tis for this that +you have led me hither, my guiding star--'tis for this that you +have conducted me to the Girdle of Stone! To all the world will I +now show my Zuleika, and no man, demon or monster of Hell, shall +bid me nay! Oh, if men would but understand the mysterious +passions of her tender heart, and see the poem which lurks in +each of her little tears! Suffer me to dry those tears with my +kisses! Suffer me to drink of those heavenly drops, Oh being who +art not of this earth!' + +"'Ermak,' said Zuleika, 'the world is cruel, and men are unjust. +But LET them drive us from their midst--let them judge us, my +beloved Ermak! What has a poor maiden who was reared amid the +snows of Siberia to do with their cold, icy, self-sufficient +world? Men cannot understand me, my darling, my sweetheart.' + +"'Is that so? Then shall the sword of the Cossacks sing and +whistle over their heads!' cried Ermak with a furious look in his +eyes." + +What must Ermak have felt when he learnt that his Zuleika had +been murdered, Barbara?--that, taking advantages of the cover of +night, the blind old Kouchoum had, in Ermak's absence, broken +into the latter's tent, and stabbed his own daughter in mistake +for the man who had robbed him of sceptre and crown? + +"'Oh that I had a stone whereon to whet my sword!' cried Ermak in +the madness of his wrath as he strove to sharpen his steel blade +upon the enchanted rock. 'I would have his blood, his blood! I +would tear him limb from limb, the villain!'" + +Then Ermak, unable to survive the loss of his Zuleika, throws +himself into the Irtisch, and the tale comes to an end. + +Here, again, is another short extract--this time written in a +more comical vein, to make people laugh: + +"Do you know Ivan Prokofievitch Zheltopuzh? He is the man who +took a piece out of Prokofi Ivanovitch's leg. Ivan's character is +one of the rugged order, and therefore, one that is rather +lacking in virtue. Yet he has a passionate relish for radishes +and honey. Once he also possessed a friend named Pelagea +Antonovna. Do you know Pelagea Antonovna? She is the woman who +always puts on her petticoat wrong side outwards." + +What humour, Barbara--what purest humour! We rocked with laughter +when he read it aloud to us. Yes, that is the kind of man he is. +Possibly the passage is a trifle over-frolicsome, but at least it +is harmless, and contains no freethought or liberal ideas. In +passing, I may say that Rataziaev is not only a supreme writer, +but also a man of upright life--which is more than can be said +for most writers. + +What, do you think, is an idea that sometimes enters my head? In +fact, what if I myself were to write something? How if suddenly a +book were to make its appearance in the world bearing the title +of "The Poetical Works of Makar Dievushkin"? What THEN, my angel? +How should you view, should you receive, such an event? I may say +of myself that never, after my book had appeared, should I have +the hardihood to show my face on the Nevski Prospect; for would +it not be too dreadful to hear every one saying, "Here comes the +literateur and poet, Dievushkin--yes, it is Dievushkin himself"? +What, in such a case, should I do with my feet (for I may tell +you that almost always my shoes are patched, or have just been +resoled, and therefore look anything but becoming)? To think that +the great writer Dievushkin should walk about in patched +footgear! If a duchess or a countess should recognise me, what +would she say, poor woman? Perhaps, though, she would not notice +my shoes at all, since it may reasonably be supposed that +countesses do not greatly occupy themselves with footgear, +especially with the footgear of civil service officials (footgear +may differ from footgear, it must be remembered). Besides, I +should find that the countess had heard all about me, for my +friends would have betrayed me to her--Rataziaev among the first +of them, seeing that he often goes to visit Countess V., and +practically lives at her house. She is said to be a woman of +great intellect and wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev! + +But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse +myself and to divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This +is a long epistle that I am sending you, but the reason is that +today I feel in good spirits after dining at Rataziaev's. There I +came across a novel which I hardly know how to describe to you. +Do not think the worse of me on that account, even though I bring +you another book instead (for I certainly mean to bring one). The +novel in question was one of Paul de Kock's, and not a novel for +you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your eyes. In fact, +it is said to have greatly offended the critics of St. +Petersburg. Also, I am sending you a pound of bonbons--bought +specially for yourself. Each time that you eat one, beloved, +remember the sender. Only, do not bite the iced ones, but suck +them gently, lest they make your teeth ache. Perhaps, too, you +like comfits? Well, write and tell me if it is so. Goodbye, +goodbye. Christ watch over you, my darling!--Always your faithful +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +June 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--Thedora tells me that, should I +wish, there are some people who will be glad to help me by +obtaining me an excellent post as governess in a certain house. +What think you, my friend? Shall I go or not? Of course, I should +then cease to be a burden to you, and the post appears to be a +comfortable one. On the other hand, the idea of entering a +strange house appals me. The people in it are landed gentry, and +they will begin to ask me questions, and to busy themselves about +me. What answers shall I then return? You see, I am now so unused +to society--so shy! I like to live in a corner to which I have +long grown used. Yes, the place with which one is familiar is +always the best. Even if for companion one has but sorrow, that +place will still be the best.... God alone knows what duties the +post will entail. Perhaps I shall merely be required to act as +nursemaid; and in any case, I hear that the governess there has +been changed three times in two years. For God's sake, Makar +Alexievitch, advise me whether to go or not. Why do you never +come near me now? Do let my eyes have an occasional sight of you. +Mass on Sundays is almost the only time when we see one another. +How retiring you have become! So also have I, even though, in a +way, I am your kinswoman. You must have ceased to love me, Makar +Alexievitch. I spend many a weary hour because of it. Sometimes, +when dusk is falling, I find myself lonely--oh, so lonely! +Thedora has gone out somewhere, and I sit here and think, and +think, and think. I remember all the past, its joys and its +sorrows. It passes before my eyes in detail, it glimmers at me as +out of a mist; and as it does so, well-known faces appear, which +seem actually to be present with me in this room! Most frequently +of all, I see my mother. Ah, the dreams that come to me! I feel +that my health is breaking, so weak am I. When this morning I +arose, sickness took me until I vomited and vomited. Yes, I feel, +I know, that death is approaching. Who will bury me when it has +come? Who will visit my tomb? Who will sorrow for me? And now it +is in a strange place, in the house of a stranger, that I may +have to die! Yes, in a corner which I do not know! ... My God, +how sad a thing is life! ... Why do you send me comfits to eat? +Whence do you get the money to buy them? Ah, for God's sake keep +the money, keep the money. Thedora has sold a carpet which I have +made. She got fifty roubles for it, which is very good--I had +expected less. Of the fifty roubles I shall give Thedora three, +and with the remainder make myself a plain, warm dress. Also, I +am going to make you a waistcoat--to make it myself, and out of +good material. + +Also, Thedora has brought me a book--"The Stories of Bielkin"-- +which I will forward you, if you would care to read it. Only, do +not soil it, nor yet retain it, for it does not belong to me. It +is by Pushkin. Two years ago I read these stories with my mother, +and it would hurt me to read them again. If you yourself have any +books, pray let me have them--so long as they have not been +obtained from Rataziaev. Probably he will be giving you one of +his own works when he has had one printed. How is it that his +compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I think them +SUCH rubbish! + +--Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! When feeling sad, I +always like to talk of something, for it acts upon me like +medicine--I begin to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what +is preying upon my heart. Good bye, good-bye, my friend--Your own + +B. D. + + + +June 28th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--Away with melancholy! Really, +beloved, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you allow +such thoughts to enter your head? Really and truly you are quite +well; really and truly you are, my darling. Why, you are blooming +--simply blooming. True, I see a certain touch of pallor in your +face, but still you are blooming. A fig for dreams and visions! +Yes, for shame, dearest! Drive away those fancies; try to despise +them. Why do I sleep so well? Why am I never ailing? Look at ME, +beloved. I live well, I sleep peacefully, I retain my health, I +can ruffle it with my juniors. In fact, it is a pleasure to see +me. Come, come, then, sweetheart! Let us have no more of this. I +know that that little head of yours is capable of any fancy--that +all too easily you take to dreaming and repining; but for my +sake, cease to do so. + +Are you to go to these people, you ask me? Never! No, no, again +no! How could you think of doing such a thing as taking a +journey? I will not allow it--I intend to combat your intention +with all my might. I will sell my frockcoat, and walk the streets +in my shirt sleeves, rather than let you be in want. But no, +Barbara. I know you, I know you. This is merely a trick, merely a +trick. And probably Thedora alone is to blame for it. She appears +to be a foolish old woman, and to be able to persuade you to do +anything. Do not believe her, my dearest. I am sure that you know +what is what, as well as SHE does. Eh, sweetheart? She is a +stupid, quarrelsome, rubbish-talking old woman who brought her +late husband to the grave. Probably she has been plaguing you as +much as she did him. No, no, dearest; you must not take this +step. What should I do then? What would there be left for ME to +do? Pray put the idea out of your head. What is it you lack here? +I cannot feel sufficiently overjoyed to be near you, while, for +your part, you love me well, and can live your life here as +quietly as you wish. Read or sew, whichever you like--or read and +do not sew. Only, do not desert me. Try, yourself, to imagine how +things would seem after you had gone. Here am I sending you +books, and later we will go for a walk. Come, come, then, my +Barbara! Summon to your aid your reason, and cease to babble of +trifles. + +As soon as I can I will come and see you, and then you shall tell +me the whole story. This will not do, sweetheart; this certainly +will not do. Of course, I know that I am not an educated man, and +have received but a sorry schooling, and have had no inclination +for it, and think too much of Rataziaev, if you will; but he is +my friend, and therefore, I must put in a word or two for him. +Yes, he is a splendid writer. Again and again I assert that he +writes magnificently. I do not agree with you about his works, +and never shall. He writes too ornately, too laconically, with +too great a wealth of imagery and imagination. Perhaps you have +read him without insight, Barbara? Or perhaps you were out of +spirits at the time, or angry with Thedora about something, or +worried about some mischance? Ah, but you should read him +sympathetically, and, best of all, at a time when you are feeling +happy and contented and pleasantly disposed-- for instance, when +you have a bonbon or two in your mouth. Yes, that is the way to +read Rataziaev. I do not dispute (indeed, who would do so?) that +better writers than he exist--even far better; but they are good, +and he is good too--they write well, and he writes well. It is +chiefly for his own sake that he writes, and he is to be approved +for so doing. + +Now goodbye, dearest. More I cannot write, for I must hurry away +to business. Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you!-- +Your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S--Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it +through, this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. + + + +MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--No, no, my friend, I must not go on +living near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come +to the conclusion that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so +good a post. I should at least have an assured crust of bread; I +might at least set to work to earn my employers' favour, and even +try to change my character if required to do so. Of course it is +a sad and sorry thing to have to live among strangers, and to be +forced to seek their patronage, and to conceal and constrain +one's own personality-- but God will help me. I must not remain +forever a recluse, for similar chances have come my way before. I +remember how, when a little girl at school, I used to go home on +Sundays and spend the time in frisking and dancing about. +Sometimes my mother would chide me for so doing, but I did not +care, for my heart was too joyous, and my spirits too buoyant, +for that. Yet as the evening of Sunday came on, a sadness as of +death would overtake me, for at nine o'clock I had to return to +school, where everything was cold and strange and severe--where +the governesses, on Mondays, lost their tempers, and nipped my +ears, and made me cry. On such occasions I would retire to a +corner and weep alone; concealing my tears lest I should be +called lazy. Yet it was not because I had to study that I used to +weep, and in time I grew more used to things, and, after my +schooldays were over, shed tears only when I was parting with +friends. . . . + +It is not right for me to live in dependence upon you. The +thought tortures me. I tell you this frankly, for the reason that +frankness with you has become a habit. Cannot I see that daily, +at earliest dawn, Thedora rises to do washing and scrubbing, and +remains working at it until late at night, even though her poor +old bones must be aching for want of rest? Cannot I also see that +YOU are ruining yourself for me, and hoarding your last kopeck +that you may spend it on my behalf? You ought not so to act, my +friend, even though you write that you would rather sell your all +than let me want for anything. I believe in you, my friend--I +entirely believe in your good heart; but, you say that to me now +(when, perhaps, you have received some unexpected sum or +gratuity) and there is still the future to be thought of. You +yourself know that I am always ailing--that I cannot work as you +do, glad though I should be of any work if I could get it; so +what else is there for me to do? To sit and repine as I watch you +and Thedora? But how would that be of any use to you? AM I +necessary to you, comrade of mine? HAVE I ever done you any good? +Though I am bound to you with my whole soul, and love you dearly +and strongly and wholeheartedly, a bitter fate has ordained that +that love should be all that I have to give--that I should be +unable, by creating for you subsistence, to repay you for all +your kindness. Do not, therefore, detain me longer, but think the +matter out, and give me your opinion on it. In expectation of +which I remain your sweetheart, + +B. D. + + + +July 1st. + +Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!--What you say is sheer rubbish. Stay +here, rather, and put such thoughts out of your head. None of +what you suppose is true. I can see for myself that it is not. +Whatsoever you lack here, you have but to ask me for it. Here you +love and are loved, and we might easily be happy and contented +together. What could you want more? What have you to do with +strangers? You cannot possibly know what strangers are like. I +know it, though, and could have told you if you had asked me. +There is a stranger whom I know, and whose bread I have eaten. He +is a cruel man, Barbara--a man so bad that he would be unworthy +of your little heart, and would soon tear it to pieces with his +railings and reproaches and black looks. On the other hand, you +are safe and well here--you are as safe as though you were +sheltered in a nest. Besides, you would, as it were, leave me +with my head gone. For what should I have to do when you were +gone? What could I, an old man, find to do? Are you not necessary +to me? Are you not useful to me? Eh? Surely you do not think that +you are not useful? You are of great use to me, Barbara, for you +exercise a beneficial influence upon my life. Even at this +moment, as I think of you, I feel cheered, for always I can write +letters to you, and put into them what I am feeling, and receive +from you detailed answers.... I have bought you a wardrobe, and +also procured you a bonnet; so you see that you have only to give +me a commission for it to be executed. . . . No-- in what way are +you not useful? What should I do if I were deserted in my old +age? What would become of me? Perhaps you never thought of that, +Barbara--perhaps you never said to yourself, "How could HE get on +without me?" You see, I have grown so accustomed to you. What +else would it end in, if you were to go away? Why, in my hiking +to the Neva's bank and doing away with myself. Ah, Barbara, +darling, I can see that you want me to be taken away to the +Volkovo Cemetery in a broken-down old hearse, with some poor +outcast of the streets to accompany my coffin as chief mourner, +and the gravediggers to heap my body with clay, and depart and +leave me there. How wrong of you, how wrong of you, my beloved! +Yes, by heavens, how wrong of you! I am returning you your book, +little friend; and, if you were to ask of me my opinion of it, I +should say that never before in my life had I read a book so +splendid. I keep wondering how I have hitherto contrived to +remain such an owl. For what have I ever done? From what wilds +did I spring into existence? I KNOW nothing--I know simply +NOTHING. My ignorance is complete. Frankly, I am not an educated +man, for until now I have read scarcely a single book--only "A +Portrait of Man" (a clever enough work in its way), "The Boy Who +Could Play Many Tunes Upon Bells", and "Ivik's Storks". That is +all. But now I have also read "The Station Overseer" in your +little volume; and it is wonderful to think that one may live and +yet be ignorant of the fact that under one's very nose there may +be a book in which one's whole life is described as in a picture. +Never should I have guessed that, as soon as ever one begins to +read such a book, it sets one on both to remember and to consider +and to foretell events. Another reason why I liked this book so +much is that, though, in the case of other works (however clever +they be), one may read them, yet remember not a word of them (for +I am a man naturally dull of comprehension, and unable to read +works of any great importance),--although, as I say, one may read +such works, one reads such a book as YOURS as easily as though it +had been written by oneself, and had taken possession of one's +heart, and turned it inside out for inspection, and were +describing it in detail as a matter of perfect simplicity. Why, I +might almost have written the book myself! Why not, indeed? I can +feel just as the people in the book do, and find myself in +positions precisely similar to those of, say, the character +Samson Virin. In fact, how many good-hearted wretches like Virin +are there not walking about amongst us? How easily, too, it is +all described! I assure you, my darling, that I almost shed tears +when I read that Virin so took to drink as to lose his memory, +become morose, and spend whole days over his liquor; as also that +he choked with grief and wept bitterly when, rubbing his eyes +with his dirty hand, he bethought him of his wandering lamb, his +daughter Dunasha! How natural, how natural! You should read the +book for yourself. The thing is actually alive. Even I can see +that; even I can realise that it is a picture cut from the very +life around me. In it I see our own Theresa (to go no further) +and the poor Tchinovnik--who is just such a man as this Samson +Virin, except for his surname of Gorshkov. The book describes +just what might happen to ourselves--to myself in particular. +Even a count who lives in the Nevski Prospect or in Naberezhnaia +Street might have a similar experience, though he might APPEAR to +be different, owing to the fact that his life is cast on a higher +plane. Yes, just the same things might happen to him--just the +same things. . . . Here you are wishing to go away and leave us; +yet, be careful lest it would not be I who had to pay the penalty +of your doing so. For you might ruin both yourself and me. For +the love of God, put away these thoughts from you, my darling, +and do not torture me in vain. How could you, my poor little +unfledged nestling, find yourself food, and defend yourself from +misfortune, and ward off the wiles of evil men? Think better of +it, Barbara, and pay no more heed to foolish advice and calumny, +but read your book again, and read it with attention. It may do +you much good. + +I have spoken of Rataziaev's "The Station Overseer". However, the +author has told me that the work is old-fashioned, since, +nowadays, books are issued with illustrations and embellishments +of different sorts (though I could not make out all that he +said). Pushkin he adjudges a splendid poet, and one who has done +honour to Holy Russia. Read your book again, Barbara, and follow +my advice, and make an old man happy. The Lord God Himself will +reward you. Yes, He will surely reward you.--Your faithful +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today Thedora came to me with +fifteen roubles in silver. How glad was the poor woman when I +gave her three of them! I am writing to you in great haste, for I +am busy cutting out a waistcoat to send to you--buff, with a +pattern of flowers. Also I am sending you a book of stories; some +of which I have read myself, particularly one called "The Cloak." +. . . You invite me to go to the theatre with you. But will it +not cost too much? Of course we might sit in the gallery. It is a +long time (indeed I cannot remember when I last did so) since I +visited a theatre! Yet I cannot help fearing that such an +amusement is beyond our means. Thedora keeps nodding her head, +and saying that you have taken to living above your income. I +myself divine the same thing by the amount which you have spent +upon me. Take care, dear friend, that misfortune does not come of +it, for Thedora has also informed me of certain rumours +concerning your inability to meet your landlady's bills. In fact, +I am very anxious about you. Now, goodbye, for I must hasten away +to see about another matter--about the changing of the ribands on +my bonnet. + +P.S--Do you know, if we go to the theatre, I think that I shall +wear my new hat and black mantilla. Will that not look nice? + + + + July 7th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--SO much for yesterday! Yes, +dearest, we have both been caught playing the fool, for I have +become thoroughly bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last +night I listened to her with all my ears, although, strangely +enough, it was practically my first sight of her, seeing that +only once before had I been to the theatre. In those days I lived +cheek by jowl with a party of five young men--a most noisy crew- +and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, to the theatre, +though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, and only +assisted them for company's sake. How those fellows talked to me +of this actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the +entire band of them (they always seemed to possess the requisite +money) would betake themselves to that place of entertainment, +where they ascended to the gallery, and clapped their hands, and +repeatedly recalled the actress in question. In fact, they went +simply mad over her. Even after we had returned home they would +give me no rest, but would go on talking about her all night, and +calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to be in love +with "the canary-bird of their hearts." My defenseless self, too, +they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. +What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the +gallery! Yet, I never got a sight of more than just a corner of +the curtain, but had to content myself with listening. She had a +fine, resounding, mellow voice like a nightingale's, and we all +of us used to clap our hands loudly, and to shout at the top of +our lungs. In short, we came very near to being ejected. On the +first occasion I went home walking as in a mist, with a single +rouble left in my pocket, and an interval of ten clear days +confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, what think you, dearest? +The very next day, before going to work, I called at a French +perfumer's, and spent my whole remaining capital on some eau-de- +Cologne and scented soap! Why I did so I do not know. Nor did I +dine at home that day, but kept walking and walking past her +windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the Nevski +Prospect). At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to +rest a short hour before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect +and resuming my vigil before her windows. For a month and a half +I kept this up--dangling in her train. Sometimes I would hire +cabs, and discharge them in view of her abode; until at length I +had entirely ruined myself, and got into debt. Then I fell out of +love with her--I grew weary of the pursuit. . . . You see, +therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a decent man. In +those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY young. + +M. D. + + + + July 8th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--The book which I received from you +on the 6th of this month I now hasten to return, while at the +same time hastening also to explain matters to you in this +accompanying letter. What a misfortune, my beloved, that you +should have brought me to such a pass! Our lots in life are +apportioned by the Almighty according to our human deserts. To +such a one He assigns a life in a general's epaulets or as a +privy councillor--to such a one, I say, He assigns a life of +command; whereas to another one, He allots only a life of +unmurmuring toil and suffering. These things are calculated +according to a man's CAPACITY. One man may be capable of one +thing, and another of another, and their several capacities are +ordered by the Lord God himself. I have now been thirty years in +the public service, and have fulfilled my duties irreproachably, +remained abstemious, and never been detected in any unbecoming +behaviour. As a citizen, I may confess--I confess it freely--I +have been guilty of certain shortcomings; yet those shortcomings +have been combined with certain virtues. I am respected by my +superiors, and even his Excellency has had no fault to find with +me; and though I have never been shown any special marks of +favour, I know that every one finds me at least satisfactory. +Also, my writing is sufficiently legible and clear. Neither too +rounded nor too fine, it is a running hand, yet always suitable. +Of our staff only Ivan Prokofievitch writes a similar hand. Thus +have I lived till the grey hairs of my old age; yet I can think +of no serious fault committed. Of course, no one is free from +MINOR faults. Everyone has some of them, and you among the rest, +my beloved. But in grave or in audacious offences never have I +been detected, nor in infringements of regulations, nor in +breaches of the public peace. No, never! This you surely know, +even as the author of your book must have known it. Yes, he also +must have known it when he sat down to write. I had not expected +this of you, my Barbara. I should never have expected it. + +What? In future I am not to go on living peacefully in my little +corner, poor though that corner be I am not to go on living, as +the proverb has it, without muddying the water, or hurting any +one, or forgetting the fear of the Lord God and of oneself? I am +not to see, forsooth, that no man does me an injury, or breaks +into my home--I am not to take care that all shall go well with +me, or that I have clothes to wear, or that my shoes do not +require mending, or that I be given work to do, or that I possess +sufficient meat and drink? Is it nothing that, where the pavement +is rotten, I have to walk on tiptoe to save my boots? If I write +to you overmuch concerning myself, is it concerning ANOTHER man, +rather, that I ought to write--concerning HIS wants, concerning +HIS lack of tea to drink (and all the world needs tea)? Has it +ever been my custom to pry into other men's mouths, to see what +is being put into them? Have I ever been known to offend any one +in that respect? No, no, beloved! Why should I desire to insult +other folks when they are not molesting ME? Let me give you an +example of what I mean. A man may go on slaving and slaving in +the public service, and earn the respect of his superiors (for +what it is worth), and then, for no visible reason at all, find +himself made a fool of. Of course he may break out now and then +(I am not now referring only to drunkenness), and (for example) +buy himself a new pair of shoes, and take pleasure in seeing his +feet looking well and smartly shod. Yes, I myself have known what +it is to feel like that (I write this in good faith). Yet I am +nonetheless astonished that Thedor Thedorovitch should neglect +what is being said about him, and take no steps to defend +himself. True, he is only a subordinate official, and sometimes +loves to rate and scold; yet why should he not do so--why should +he not indulge in a little vituperation when he feels like it? +Suppose it to be NECESSARY, for FORM'S sake, to scold, and to set +everyone right, and to shower around abuse (for, between +ourselves, Barbara, our friend cannot get on WITHOUT abuse--so +much so that every one humours him, and does things behind his +back)? Well, since officials differ in rank, and every official +demands that he shall be allowed to abuse his fellow officials in +proportion to his rank, it follows that the TONE also of official +abuse should become divided into ranks, and thus accord with the +natural order of things. All the world is built upon the system +that each one of us shall have to yield precedence to some other +one, as well as to enjoy a certain power of abusing his fellows. +Without such a provision the world could not get on at all, and +simple chaos would ensue. Yet I am surprised that our Thedor +should continue to overlook insults of the kind that he endures. + +Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will +my doing of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, +or to buy me a new pair of shoes? No, Barbara. Men only read the +documents, and then require me to write more. Sometimes a man +will hide himself away, and not show his face abroad, for the +mere reason that, though he has done nothing to be ashamed of, he +dreads the gossip and slandering which are everywhere to be +encountered. If his civic and family life have to do with +literature, everything will be printed and read and laughed over +and discussed; until at length, he hardly dare show his face in +the street at all, seeing that he will have been described by +report as recognisable through his gait alone! Then, when he has +amended his ways, and grown gentler (even though he still +continues to be loaded with official work), he will come to be +accounted a virtuous, decent citizen who has deserved well of his +comrades, rendered obedience to his superiors, wished noone any +evil, preserved the fear of God in his heart, and died lamented. +Yet would it not be better, instead of letting the poor fellow +die, to give him a cloak while yet he is ALIVE--to give it to +this same Thedor Thedorovitch (that is to say, to myself)? Yes, +'twere far better if, on hearing the tale of his subordinate's +virtues, the chief of the department were to call the deserving +man into his office, and then and there to promote him, and to +grant him an increase of salary. Thus vice would be punished, +virtue would prevail, and the staff of that department would live +in peace together. Here we have an example from everyday, +commonplace life. How, therefore, could you bring yourself to +send me that book, my beloved? It is a badly conceived work, +Barbara, and also unreal, for the reason that in creation such a +Tchinovnik does not exist. No, again I protest against it, little +Barbara; again I protest.--Your most humble, devoted servant, + +M. D. + + + +July 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Your latest conduct and letters +had frightened me, and left me thunderstruck and plunged in +doubt, until what you have said about Thedor explained the +situation. Why despair and go into such frenzies, Makar +Alexievitch? Your explanations only partially satisfy me. Perhaps +I did wrong to insist upon accepting a good situation when it was +offered me, seeing that from my last experience in that way I +derived a shock which was anything but a matter for jesting. You +say also that your love for me has compelled you to hide yourself +in retirement. Now, how much I am indebted to you I realised when +you told me that you were spending for my benefit the sum which +you are always reported to have laid by at your bankers; but, now +that I have learnED that you never possessed such a fund, but +that, on hearing of my destitute plight, and being moved by it, +you decided to spend upon me the whole of your salary--even to +forestall it--and when I had fallen ill, actually to sell your +clothes--when I learnED all this I found myself placed in the +harassing position of not knowing how to accept it all, nor what +to think of it. Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought to have stopped +at your first acts of charity--acts inspired by sympathy and the +love of kinsfolk, rather than have continued to squander your +means upon what was unnecessary. Yes, you have betrayed our +friendship, Makar Alexievitch, in that you have not been open +with me; and, now that I see that your last coin has been spent +upon dresses and bon-bons and excursions and books and visits to +the theatre for me, I weep bitter tears for my unpardonable +improvidence in having accepted these things without giving so +much as a thought to your welfare. Yes, all that you have done to +give me pleasure has become converted into a source of grief, and +left behind it only useless regret. Of late I have remarked that +you were looking depressed; and though I felt fearful that +something unfortunate was impending, what has happened would +otherwise never have entered my head. To think that your better +sense should so play you false, Makar Alexievitch! What will +people think of you, and say of you? Who will want to know you? +You whom, like everyone else, I have valued for your goodness of +heart and modesty and good sense--YOU, I say, have now given way +to an unpleasant vice of which you seem never before to have been +guilty. What were my feelings when Thedora informed me that you +had been discovered drunk in the street, and taken home by the +police? Why, I felt petrified with astonishment--although, in +view of the fact that you had failed me for four days, I had been +expecting some such extraordinary occurrence. Also, have you +thought what your superiors will say of you when they come to +learn the true reason of your absence? You say that everyone is +laughing at you, that every one has learnED of the bond which +exists between us, and that your neighbours habitually refer to +me with a sneer. Pay no attention to this, Makar Alexievitch; for +the love of God, be comforted. Also, the incident between you and +the officers has much alarmed me, although I had heard certain +rumours concerning it. Pray explain to me what it means. You +write, too, that you have been afraid to be open with me, for the +reason that your confessions might lose you my friendship. Also, +you say that you are in despair at the thought of being unable to +help me in my illness, owing to the fact that you have sold +everything which might have maintained me, and preserved me in +sickness, as well as that you have borrowed as much as it is +possible for you to borrow, and are daily experiencing +unpleasantness with your landlady. Well, in failing to reveal all +this to me you chose the worse course. Now, however, I know all. +You have forced me to recognise that I have been the cause of +your unhappy plight, as well as that my own conduct has brought +upon myself a twofold measure of sorrow. The fact leaves me +thunderstruck, Makar Alexievitch. Ah, friend, an infectious +disease is indeed a misfortune, for now we poor and miserable +folk must perforce keep apart from one another, lest the +infection be increased. Yes, I have brought upon you calamities +which never before in your humble, solitary life you had +experienced. This tortures and exhausts me more than I can tell +to think of. + +Write to me quite frankly. Tell me how you came to embark upon +such a course of conduct. Comfort, oh, comfort me if you can. It +is not self-love that prompts me to speak of my own comforting, +but my friendship and love for you, which will never fade from my +heart. Goodbye. I await your answer with impatience. You have +thought but poorly of me, Makar Alexievitch.--Your friend and +lover, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + July 28th. + +MY PRICELESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--What am I to say to you, now +that all is over, and we are gradually returning to our old +position? You say that you are anxious as to what will be thought +of me. Let me tell you that the dearest thing in life to me is my +self-respect; wherefore, in informing you of my misfortunes and +misconduct, I would add that none of my superiors know of my +doings, nor ever will know of them, and that therefore, I still +enjoy a measure of respect in that quarter. Only one thing do I +fear-- I fear gossip. Garrulous though my landlady be, she said +but little when, with the aid of your ten roubles, I today paid +her part of her account; and as for the rest of my companions, +they do not matter at all. So long as I have not borrowed money +from them, I need pay them no attention. To conclude my +explanations, let me tell you that I value your respect for me +above everything in the world, and have found it my greatest +comfort during this temporary distress of mine. Thank God, the +first shock of things has abated, now that you have agreed not to +look upon me as faithless and an egotist simply because I have +deceived you. I wish to hold you to myself, for the reason that I +cannot bear to part with you, and love you as my guardian angel. +. . . I have now returned to work, and am applying myself +diligently to my duties. Also, yesterday Evstafi Ivanovitch +exchanged a word or two with me. Yet I will not conceal from you +the fact that my debts are crushing me down, and that my wardrobe +is in a sorry state. At the same time, these things do not REALLY +matter and I would bid you not despair about them. Send me, +however, another half-rouble if you can (though that half-rouble +will stab me to the heart--stab me with the thought that it is +not I who am helping you, but YOU who are helping ME). Thedora +has done well to get those fifteen roubles for you. At the +moment, fool of an old man that I am, I have no hope of acquiring +any more money; but as soon as ever I do so, I will write to you +and let you know all about it. What chiefly worries me is the +fear of gossip. Goodbye, little angel. I kiss your hands, and +beseech you to regain your health. If this is not a detailed +letter, the reason is that I must soon be starting for the +office, in order that, by strict application to duty, I may make +amends for the past. Further information concerning my doings (as +well as concerning that affair with the officers) must be +deferred until tonight.--Your affectionate and respectful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + July 28th. + +DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--It is YOU who have committed a fault-- +and one which must weigh heavily upon your conscience. Indeed, +your last letter has amazed and confounded me,--so much so that, +on once more looking into the recesses of my heart, I perceive +that I was perfectly right in what I did. Of course I am not now +referring to my debauch (no, indeed!), but to the fact that I +love you, and to the fact that it is unwise of me to love you-- +very unwise. You know not how matters stand, my darling. You know +not why I am BOUND to love you. Otherwise you would not say all +that you do. Yet I am persuaded that it is your head rather than +your heart that is speaking. I am certain that your heart thinks +very differently. + +What occurred that night between myself and those officers I +scarcely know, I scarcely remember. You must bear in mind that +for some time past I have been in terrible distress--that for a +whole month I have been, so to speak, hanging by a single thread. +Indeed, my position has been most pitiable. Though I hid myself +from you, my landlady was forever shouting and railing at me. +This would not have mattered a jot--the horrible old woman might +have shouted as much as she pleased--had it not been that, in the +first place, there was the disgrace of it, and, in the second +place, she had somehow learned of our connection, and kept +proclaiming it to the household until I felt perfectly deafened, +and had to stop my ears. The point, however, is that other people +did not stop their ears, but, on the contrary, pricked them. +Indeed, I am at a loss what to do. + +Really this wretched rabble has driven me to extremities. It all +began with my hearing a strange rumour from Thedora--namely, that +an unworthy suitor had been to visit you, and had insulted you +with an improper proposal. That he had insulted you deeply I knew +from my own feelings, for I felt insulted in an equal degree. +Upon that, my angel, I went to pieces, and, losing all self- +control, plunged headlong. Bursting into an unspeakable frenzy, I +was at once going to call upon this villain of a seducer--though +what to do next I knew not, seeing that I was fearful of giving +you offence. Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what a time +of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found +myself unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened +to come by. He also is a tchinovnik--or rather, was a tchinovnik, +since he was turned out of the service some time ago. What he was +doing there at that moment I do not know; I only know that I went +with him. . . . Surely it cannot give you pleasure to read of the +misfortunes of your friend--of his sorrows, and of the +temptations which he experienced? . . . On the evening of the +third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of whom I +have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik. +More strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous +occasion, he had come to play cards here, and I had followed him +home. Of course I now see that I did wrong, but I felt beside +myself when I heard them telling him stories about me. Exactly +what happened next I cannot remember. I only remember that +several other officers were present as well as he. Or it may be +that I saw everything double--God alone knows. Also, I cannot +exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my fury I +said a great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw +me down the staircase--pushed me down it, that is to say. How I +got home you know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself, +and my pride underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except +yourself knows of the affair, and in any case it does not matter. +Perhaps the affair is as you imagine it to have been, Barbara? +One thing I know for certain, and that is that last year one of +our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar liberty with +Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute secret. +He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a +crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in +the way that a gentleman should--noone except myself being a +witness of the scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no +explanation at all. After the scene was over, nothing further +transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch and Peter Petrovitch, for +the reason that the latter was so desirous of getting on in life +that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and shake hands +whenever they meet. . . . I will not dispute the fact that I have +erred most grievously--that I should never dare to dispute, or +that I have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I +was fated from birth so to do--and one cannot escape fate, my +beloved. Here, therefore, is a detailed explanation of my +misfortunes and sorrows, written for you to read whenever you may +find it convenient. I am far from well, beloved, and have lost +all my gaiety of disposition, but I send you this letter as a +token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh dear lady of my +affections.-- Your humble servant, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + July 29th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have read your two letters, and +they make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass +over certain things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of +your misfortunes. Can it be that the letters are the outcome of a +mental disorder? . . . Come and see me, for God's sake. Come +today, direct from the office, and dine with us as you have done +before. As to how you are living now, or as to what settlement +you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you write +nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have +left them unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today +without fail. You would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is +an excellent cook. Goodbye --Your own, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + August 1st. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Thank God that He has sent you a +chance of repaying my good with good. I believe in so doing, as +well as in the sweetness of your angelic heart. Therefore, I will +not reproach you. Only I pray you, do not again blame me because +in the decline of my life I have played the spendthrift. It was +such a sin, was it not?--such a thing to do? And even if you +would still have it that the sin was there, remember, little +friend, what it costs me to hear such words fall from your lips. +Do not be vexed with me for saying this, for my heart is +fainting. Poor people are subject to fancies--this is a provision +of nature. I myself have had reason to know this. The poor man is +exacting. He cannot see God's world as it is, but eyes each +passer-by askance, and looks around him uneasily in order that he +may listen to every word that is being uttered. May not people be +talking of him? How is it that he is so unsightly? What is he +feeling at all? What sort of figure is he cutting on the one side +or on the other? It is matter of common knowledge, my Barbara, +that the poor man ranks lower than a rag, and will never earn the +respect of any one. Yes, write about him as you like--let +scribblers say what they choose about him-- he will ever remain +as he was. And why is this? It is because, from his very nature, +the poor man has to wear his feelings on his sleeve, so that +nothing about him is sacred, and as for his self-respect--! Well, +Emelia told me the other day that once, when he had to collect +subscriptions, official sanction was demanded for every single +coin, since people thought that it would be no use paying their +money to a poor man. Nowadays charity is strangely administered. +Perhaps it has always been so. Either folk do not know how to +administer it, or they are adept in the art--one of the two. +Perhaps you did not know this, so I beg to tell it you. And how +comes it that the poor man knows, is so conscious of it all? The +answer is--by experience. He knows because any day he may see a +gentleman enter a restaurant and ask himself, "What shall I have +to eat today? I will have such and such a dish," while all the +time the poor man will have nothing to eat that day but gruel. +There are men, too--wretched busybodies--who walk about merely to +see if they can find some wretched tchinovnik or broken-down +official who has got toes projecting from his boots or his hair +uncut! And when they have found such a one they make a report of +the circumstance, and their rubbish gets entered on the file.... +But what does it matter to you if my hair lacks the shears? If +you will forgive me what may seem to you a piece of rudeness, I +declare that the poor man is ashamed of such things with the +sensitiveness of a young girl. YOU, for instance, would not care +(pray pardon my bluntness) to unrobe yourself before the public +eye; and in the same way, the poor man does not like to be pried +at or questioned concerning his family relations, and so forth. A +man of honour and self-respect such as I am finds it painful and +grievous to have to consort with men who would deprive him of +both. + +Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear's cub or a plucked +sparrow, so that I fairly burned with shame. Yes, it hurt me +terribly, Barbara. Naturally one blushes when one can see one's +naked toes projecting through one's boots, and one's buttons +hanging by a single thread! As though on purpose, I seemed, on +this occasion, to be peculiarly dishevelled. No wonder that my +spirits fell. When I was talking on business matters to Stepan +Karlovitch, he suddenly exclaimed, for no apparent reason, "Ah, +poor old Makar Alexievitch!" and then left the rest unfinished. +But I knew what he had in his mind, and blushed so hotly that +even the bald patch on my head grew red. Of course the whole +thing is nothing, but it worries me, and leads to anxious +thoughts. What can these fellows know about me? God send that +they know nothing! But I confess that I suspect, I strongly +suspect, one of my colleagues. Let them only betray me! They +would betray one's private life for a groat, for they hold +nothing sacred. + +I have an idea who is at the bottom of it all. It is Rataziaev. +Probably he knows someone in our department to whom he has +recounted the story with additions. Or perhaps he has spread it +abroad in his own department, and thence, it has crept and +crawled into ours. Everyone here knows it, down to the last +detail, for I have seen them point at you with their fingers +through the window. Oh yes, I have seen them do it. Yesterday, +when I stepped across to dine with you, the whole crew were +hanging out of the window to watch me, and the landlady exclaimed +that the devil was in young people, and called you certain +unbecoming names. But this is as nothing compared with +Rataziaev's foul intention to place us in his books, and to +describe us in a satire. He himself has declared that he is going +to do so, and other people say the same. In fact, I know not what +to think, nor what to decide. It is no use concealing the fact +that you and I have sinned against the Lord God.... You were +going to send me a book of some sort, to divert my mind--were you +not, dearest? What book, though, could now divert me? Only such +books as have never existed on earth. Novels are rubbish, and +written for fools and for the idle. Believe me, dearest, I know +it through long experience. Even should they vaunt Shakespeare to +you, I tell you that Shakespeare is rubbish, and proper only for +lampoons--Your own, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +August 2nd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do not disquiet yourself. God will +grant that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a +quantity of work, both for me and herself, and we are setting +about it with a will. Perhaps it will put us straight again. +Thedora suspects my late misfortunes to be connected with Anna +Thedorovna; but I do not care--I feel extraordinarily cheerful +today. So you are thinking of borrowing more money? If so, may +God preserve you, for you will assuredly be ruined when the time +comes for repayment! You had far better come and live with us +here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode here, +and pay no attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for +the rest of your enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is +with vain imaginings that you are vexing yourself. . . . In +passing, let me tell you that your style differs greatly from +letter to letter. Goodbye until we meet again. I await your +coming with impatience--Your own, + +B. D. + + + +August 3rd. + +MY ANGEL, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to inform you, Oh light of +my life, that my hopes are rising again. But, little daughter of +mine--do you really mean it when you say that I am to indulge in +no more borrowings? Why, I could not do without them. Things +would go badly with us both if I did so. You are ailing. +Consequently, I tell you roundly that I MUST borrow, and that I +must continue to do so. + +Also, I may tell you that my seat in the office is now next to +that of a certain Emelia Ivanovitch. He is not the Emelia whom +you know, but a man who, like myself, is a privy councillor, as +well as represents, with myself, the senior and oldest official +in our department. Likewise he is a good, disinterested soul, and +one that is not over-talkative, though a true bear in appearance +and demeanour. Industrious, and possessed of a handwriting purely +English, his caligraphy is, it must be confessed, even worse than +my own. Yes, he is a good soul. At the same time, we have never +been intimate with one another. We have done no more than +exchange greetings on meeting or parting, borrow one another's +penknife if we needed one, and, in short, observe such bare +civilities as convention demands. Well, today he said to me, +"Makar Alexievitch, what makes you look so thoughtful?" and +inasmuch as I could see that he wished me well, I told him all-- +or, rather, I did not tell him EVERYTHING, for that I do to no +man (I have not the heart to do it); I told him just a few +scattered details concerning my financial straits. "Then you +ought to borrow," said he. "You ought to obtain a loan of Peter +Petrovitch, who does a little in that way. I myself once borrowed +some money of him, and he charged me fair and light interest." +Well, Barbara, my heart leapt within me at these words. I kept +thinking and thinking, --if only God would put it into the mind +of Peter Petrovitch to be my benefactor by advancing me a loan!" +I calculated that with its aid I might both repay my landlady and +assist yourself and get rid of my surroundings (where I can +hardly sit down to table without the rascals making jokes about +me). Sometimes his Excellency passes our desk in the office. He +glances at me, and cannot but perceive how poorly I am dressed. +Now, neatness and cleanliness are two of his strongest points. +Even though he says nothing, I feel ready to die with shame when +he approaches. Well, hardening my heart, and putting my +diffidence into my ragged pocket, I approached Peter Petrovitch, +and halted before him more dead than alive. Yet I was hopeful, +and though, as it turned out, he was busily engaged in talking to +Thedosei Ivanovitch, I walked up to him from behind, and plucked +at his sleeve. He looked away from me, but I recited my speech +about thirty roubles, et cetera, et cetera, of which, at first, +he failed to catch the meaning. Even when I had explained matters +to him more fully, he only burst out laughing, and said nothing. +Again I addressed to him my request; whereupon, asking me what +security I could give, he again buried himself in his papers, and +went on writing without deigning me even a second glance. Dismay +seized me. "Peter Petrovitch," I said, "I can offer you no +security," but to this I added an explanation that some salary +would, in time, be due to me, which I would make over to him, and +account the loan my first debt. At that moment someone called him +away, and I had to wait a little. On returning, he began to mend +his pen as though he had not even noticed that I was there. But I +was for myself this time. "Peter Petrovitch," I continued, "can +you not do ANYTHING?" Still he maintained silence, and seemed not +to have heard me. I waited and waited. At length I determined to +make a final attempt, and plucked him by the sleeve. He muttered +something, and, his pen mended, set about his writing. There was +nothing for me to do but to depart. He and the rest of them are +worthy fellows, dearest--that I do not doubt-- but they are also +proud, very proud. What have I to do with them? Yet I thought I +would write and tell you all about it. Meanwhile Emelia +Ivanovitch had been encouraging me with nods and smiles. He is a +good soul, and has promised to recommend me to a friend of his +who lives in Viborskaia Street and lends money. Emelia declares +that this friend will certainly lend me a little; so tomorrow, +beloved, I am going to call upon the gentleman in question. . . . +What do you think about it? It would be a pity not to obtain a +loan. My landlady is on the point of turning me out of doors, and +has refused to allow me any more board. Also, my boots are +wearing through, and have lost every button--and I do not possess +another pair! Could anyone in a government office display greater +shabbiness? It is dreadful, my Barbara--it is simply dreadful! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + August 4th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God's sake borrow some money +as soon as you can. I would not ask this help of you were it not +for the situation in which I am placed. Thedora and myself cannot +remain any longer in our present lodgings, for we have been +subjected to great unpleasantness, and you cannot imagine my +state of agitation and dismay. The reason is that this morning we +received a visit from an elderly--almost an old--man whose breast +was studded with orders. Greatly surprised, I asked him what he +wanted (for at the moment Thedora had gone out shopping); +whereupon he began to question me as to my mode of life and +occupation, and then, without waiting for an answer, informed me +that he was uncle to the officer of whom you have spoken; that he +was very angry with his nephew for the way in which the latter +had behaved, especially with regard to his slandering of me right +and left; and that he, the uncle, was ready to protect me from +the young spendthrift's insolence. Also, he advised me to have +nothing to say to young fellows of that stamp, and added that he +sympathised with me as though he were my own father, and would +gladly help me in any way he could. At this I blushed in some +confusion, but did not greatly hasten to thank him. Next, he took +me forcibly by the hand, and, tapping my cheek, said that I was +very good-looking, and that he greatly liked the dimples in my +face (God only knows what he meant!). Finally he tried to kiss +me, on the plea that he was an old man, the brute! At this moment +Thedora returned; whereupon, in some confusion, he repeated that +he felt a great respect for my modesty and virtue, and that he +much wished to become acquainted with me; after which he took +Thedora aside, and tried, on some pretext or another, to give her +money (though of course she declined it). At last he took himself +off--again reiterating his assurances, and saying that he +intended to return with some earrings as a present; that he +advised me to change my lodgings; and, that he could recommend me +a splendid flat which he had in his mind's eye as likely to cost +me nothing. Yes, he also declared that he greatly liked me for my +purity and good sense; that I must beware of dissolute young men; +and that he knew Anna Thedorovna, who had charged him to inform +me that she would shortly be visiting me in person. Upon that, I +understood all. What I did next I scarcely know, for I had never +before found myself in such a position; but I believe that I +broke all restraints, and made the old man feel thoroughly +ashamed of himself--Thedora helping me in the task, and well-nigh +turning him neck and crop out of the tenement. Neither of us +doubt that this is Anna Thedorovna's work-- for how otherwise +could the old man have got to know about us? + +Now, therefore, Makar Alexievitch, I turn to you for help. Do +not, for God's sake, leave me in this plight. Borrow all the +money that you can get, for I have not the wherewithal to leave +these lodgings, yet cannot possibly remain in them any longer. At +all events, this is Thedora's advice. She and I need at least +twenty-five roubles, which I will repay you out of what I earn by +my work, while Thedora shall get me additional work from day to +day, so that, if there be heavy interest to pay on the loan, you +shall not be troubled with the extra burden. Nay, I will make +over to you all that I possess if only you will continue to help +me. Truly, I grieve to have to trouble you when you yourself are +so hardly situated, but my hopes rest upon you, and upon you +alone. Goodbye, Makar Alexievitch. Think of me, and may God speed +you on your errand! + +B.D. + + + + August 4th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--These unlooked-for blows have +shaken me terribly, and these strange calamities have quite +broken my spirit. Not content with trying to bring you to a bed +of sickness, these lickspittles and pestilent old men are trying +to bring me to the same. And I assure you that they are +succeeding--I assure you that they are. Yet I would rather die +than not help you. If I cannot help you I SHALL die; but, to +enable me to help you, you must flee like a bird out of the nest +where these owls, these birds of prey, are seeking to peck you to +death. How distressed I feel, my dearest! Yet how cruel you +yourself are! Although you are enduring pain and insult, although +you, little nestling, are in agony of spirit, you actually tell +me that it grieves you to disturb me, and that you will work off +your debt to me with the labour of your own hands! In other +words, you, with your weak health, are proposing to kill yourself +in order to relieve me to term of my financial embarrassments! +Stop a moment, and think what you are saying. WHY should you sew, +and work, and torture your poor head with anxiety, and spoil your +beautiful eyes, and ruin your health? Why, indeed? Ah, little +Barbara, little Barbara! Do you not see that I shall never be any +good to you, never any good to you? At all events, I myself see +it. Yet I WILL help you in your distress. I WILL overcome every +difficulty, I WILL get extra work to do, I WILL copy out +manuscripts for authors, I WILL go to the latter and force them +to employ me, I WILL so apply myself to the work that they shall +see that I am a good copyist (and good copyists, I know, are +always in demand). Thus there will be no need for you to exhaust +your strength, nor will I allow you to do so--I will not have you +carry out your disastrous intention. . . Yes, little angel, I +will certainly borrow some money. I would rather die than not do +so. Merely tell me, my own darling, that I am not to shrink from +heavy interest, and I will not shrink from it, I will not shrink +from it--nay, I will shrink from nothing. I will ask for forty +roubles, to begin with. That will not be much, will it, little +Barbara? Yet will any one trust me even with that sum at the +first asking? Do you think that I am capable of inspiring +confidence at the first glance? Would the mere sight of my face +lead any one to form of me a favourable opinion? Have I ever been +able, remember you, to appear to anyone in a favourable light? +What think you? Personally, I see difficulties in the way, and +feel sick at heart at the mere prospect. However, of those forty +roubles I mean to set aside twenty-five for yourself, two for my +landlady, and the remainder for my own spending. Of course, I +ought to give more than two to my landlady, but you must remember +my necessities, and see for yourself that that is the most that +can be assigned to her. We need say no more about it. For one +rouble I shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for I scarcely know +whether my old ones will take me to the office tomorrow morning. +Also, a new neck-scarf is indispensable, seeing that the old one +has now passed its first year; but, since you have promised to +make of your old apron not only a scarf, but also a shirt-front, +I need think no more of the article in question. So much for +shoes and scarves. Next, for buttons. You yourself will agree +that I cannot do without buttons; nor is there on my garments a +single hem unfrayed. I tremble when I think that some day his +Excellency may perceive my untidiness, and say--well, what will +he NOT say? Yet I shall never hear what he says, for I shall have +expired where I sit--expired of mere shame at the thought of +having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest! . . . Well, my various +necessities will have left me three roubles to go on with. Part +of this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco--for I +cannot live without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put +a pipe into my mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco +without acquainting you with the fact, although I ought not so to +do. The pity of it all is that, while you are depriving yourself +of everything, I keep solacing myself with various amenities-- +which is why I am telling you this, that the pangs of conscience +may not torment me. Frankly, I confess that I am in desperate +straits--in such straits as I have never yet known. My landlady +flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of noone; my arrears and debts +are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the +place exactly a paradise, noone has a single word to say to me. +Yet I hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide +my person in the same way, were it not that daily I have to +attend the office where I have to be constantly on my guard +against my fellows. Nevertheless, merely to be able to CONFESS +this to you renews my spiritual strength. We must not think of +these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them break our +courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of +them, nor to torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my +God, what is to become of us? Stay where you are until I can come +to you; after which I shall not return hither, but simply +disappear. Now I have finished my letter, and must go and shave +myself, inasmuch as, when that is done, one always feels more +decent, as well as consorts more easily with decency. God speed +me! One prayer to Him, and I must be off. + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +August 5th. + +DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, - You must not despair. Away with +melancholy! I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret +that I cannot send you more. Buy yourself what you most need +until tomorrow. I myself have almost nothing left, and what I am +going to do I know not. Is it not dreadful, Makar Alexievitch? +Yet do not be downcast--it is no good being that. Thedora +declares that it would not be a bad thing if we were to remain in +this tenement, since if we left it suspicions would arise, and +our enemies might take it into their heads to look for us. On the +other hand, I do not think it would be well for us to remain +here. If I were feeling less sad I would tell you my reason. + +What a strange man you are, Makar Alexievitch! You take things so +much to heart that you never know what it is to be happy. I read +your letters attentively, and can see from them that, though you +worry and disturb yourself about me, you never give a thought to +yourself. Yes, every letter tells me that you have a kind heart; +but I tell YOU that that heart is overly kind. So I will give you +a little friendly advice, Makar Alexievitch. I am full of +gratitude towards you--I am indeed full for all that you have +done for me, I am most sensible of your goodness; but, to think +that I should be forced to see that, in spite of your own +troubles (of which I have been the involuntary cause), you live +for me alone--you live but for MY joys and MY sorrows and MY +affection! If you take the affairs of another person so to heart, +and suffer with her to such an extent, I do not wonder that you +yourself are unhappy. Today, when you came to see me after +office-work was done, I felt afraid even to raise my eyes to +yours, for you looked so pale and desperate, and your face had so +fallen in. Yes, you were dreading to have to tell me of your +failure to borrow money--you were dreading to have to grieve and +alarm me; but, when you saw that I came very near to smiling, the +load was, I know, lifted from your heart. So do not be +despondent, do not give way, but allow more rein to your better +sense. I beg and implore this of you, for it will not be long +before you see things take a turn for the better. You will but +spoil your life if you constantly lament another person's sorrow. +Goodbye, dear friend. I beseech you not to be over-anxious about +me. + +B. D. + + + + August 5th. + +MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,--This is well, this is well, my angel! +So you are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain +any money does not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am +happy on your account. Also, I am delighted to think that you are +not going to desert your old friend, but intend to remain in your +present lodgings. Indeed, my heart was overcharged with joy when +I read in your letter those kindly words about myself, as well as +a not wholly unmerited recognition of my sentiments. I say this +not out of pride, but because now I know how much you love me to +be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to think that I may +speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be faint-hearted. +Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for instance, of +the pair of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office +tomorrow! The fact is that over-brooding proves the undoing of a +man--his complete undoing. What has saved me is the fact that it +is not for myself that I am grieving, that I am suffering, but +for YOU. Nor would it matter to me in the least that I should +have to walk through the bitter cold without an overcoat or +boots--I could bear it, I could well endure it, for I am a simple +man in my requirements; but the point is--what would people say, +what would every envious and hostile tongue exclaim, when I was +seen without an overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that one wears an +overcoat and boots. In any case, therefore, I should have needed +boots to maintain my name and reputation; to both of which my +ragged footgear would otherwise have spelled ruin. Yes, it is so, +my beloved, and you may believe an old man who has had many years +of experience, and knows both the world and mankind, rather than +a set of scribblers and daubers. + +But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with +me today. During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit +as might have been experienced in a year. 'Twas like this: First +of all, I went out to call upon the gentleman of whom I have +spoken. I started very early, before going to the office. Rain +and sleet were falling, and I hugged myself in my greatcoat as I +walked along. "Lord," thought I, "pardon my offences, and send me +fulfilment of all my desires;" and as I passed a church I crossed +myself, repented of my sins, and reminded myself that I was +unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then I retired +into myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking +without noticing the streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything +had an empty air, and everyone whom I met looked careworn and +preoccupied, and no wonder, for who would choose to walk abroad +at such an early hour, and in such weather? Next a band of ragged +workmen met me, and jostled me boorishly as they passed; upon +which nervousness overtook me, and I felt uneasy, and tried hard +not to think of the money that was my errand. Near the +Voskresenski Bridge my feet began to ache with weariness, until I +could hardly pull myself along; until presently I met with +Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping aside, halted, +and followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a glass of +vodka. "Ah, friend," thought I, "go YOU to your vodka, but what +have I to do with such stuff?" Then, sadly weary, I halted for a +moment's rest, and thereafter dragged myself further on my way. +Purposely I kept looking about me for something upon which to +fasten my thoughts, with which to distract, to encourage myself; +but there was nothing. Not a single idea could I connect with any +given object, while, in addition, my appearance was so draggled +that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I perceived from +afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I +thought, must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia +Ivanovitch had mentioned to me as ready to lend money on +interest. Half unconscious of what I was doing, I asked a +watchman if he could tell me to whom the house belonged; +whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed at something, +the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL +watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any +case I felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to +like, and, no matter what position one is in, things invariably +appear to correspond to it. Three times did I pass the house and +walk the length of the street; until the further I walked, the +worse became my state of mind. "No, never, never will he lend me +anything!" I thought to myself, "He does not know me, and my +affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I shall cut a sorry +figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let Heaven send +that I do not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart with +remorse!" Softly I opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great +ragged brute of a watch-dog came flying out at me, and foaming at +the mouth, and nearly jumping out his skin! Curious is it to note +what little, trivial incidents will nearly make a man crazy, and +strike terror to his heart, and annihilate the firm purpose with +which he has armed himself. At all events, I approached the house +more dead than alive, and walked straight into another +catastrophe. That is to say, not noticing the slipperiness of the +threshold, I stumbled against an old woman who was filling milk- +jugs from a pail, and sent the milk flying in every direction! +The foolish old dame gave a start and a cry, and then demanded of +me whither I had been coming, and what it was I wanted; after +which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I +found something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of +this nature. It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into +something. Upon that, the noise and the commotion brought out the +mistress of the house--an old beldame of mean appearance. I +addressed myself directly to her: "Does Monsieur Markov live +here?" was my inquiry. "No," she replied, and then stood looking +at me civilly enough. "But what want you with him?" she +continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and the +rest of the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her +daughter--a barefooted girl in her teens-- and told her to summon +her father from upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room +which contained several portraits of generals on the walls and +was furnished with a sofa, a large table, and a few pots of +mignonette and balsam. "Shall I, or shall I not (come weal, come +woe) take myself off?" was my thought as I waited there. Ah, how +I longed to run away! "Yes," I continued, "I had better come +again tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I shall +not have upset the milk, and these generals will not be looking +at me so fiercely." In fact, I had actually begun to move towards +the door when Monsieur Markov entered--a grey-headed man with +thievish eyes, and clad in a dirty dressing-gown fastened with a +belt. Greetings over, I stumbled out something about Emelia +Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and then came to a dead halt, for +his eyes told me that my errand had been futile. "No." said he, +"I have no money. Moreover, what security could you offer?" I +admitted that I could offer none, but again added something about +Emelia, as well as about my pressing needs. Markov heard me out, +and then repeated that he had no money. " Ah," thought I, "I +might have known this--I might have foreseen it!" And, to tell +the truth, Barbara, I could have wished that the earth had opened +under my feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what he did, so +numbed did my legs grow as shivers began to run down my back. +Thus I remained gazing at him while he returned my gaze with a +look which said, "Well now, my friend? Why do you not go since +you have no further business to do here?" Somehow I felt +conscience-stricken. "How is it that you are in such need of +money?" was what he appeared to be asking; whereupon, I opened my +mouth (anything rather than stand there to no purpose at all!) +but found that he was not even listening. "I have no money," +again he said, "or I would lend you some with pleasure." Several +times I repeated that I myself possessed a little, and that I +would repay any loan from him punctually, most punctually, and +that he might charge me what interest he liked, since I would +meet it without fail. Yes, at that moment I remembered our +misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered your half-rouble. +"No," said he, "I can lend you nothing without security," and +clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber! + +How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through +Viborskaia Street, to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not +know. I only remember that I felt terribly weary, cold, and +starved, and that it was ten o'clock before I reached the office. +Arriving, I tried to clean myself up a little, but Sniegirev, the +porter, said that it was impossible for me to do so, and that I +should only spoil the brush, which belonged to the Government. +Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than the mat on +which they wipe their boots! What is it that will most surely +break me? It is not the want of money, but the LITTLE worries of +life--these whisperings and nods and jeers. Anyday his Excellency +himself may round upon me. Ah, dearest, my golden days are gone. +Today I have spent in reading your letters through; and the +reading of them has made me sad. Goodbye, my own, and may the +Lord watch over you! + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half +jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My +one desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come +and see you, dearest. Without fail I will come and see you. + + + +August 11th. + +O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone--we are both of us undone! Both +of us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined--my +reputation, my self-respect, all that I have in the world! And +you as much as I. Never shall we retrieve what we have lost. I-- +I have brought you to this pass, for I have become an outcast, my +darling. Everywhere I am laughed at and despised. Even my +landlady has taken to abusing me. Today she overwhelmed me with +shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a hearth-brush. +And last night, when I was in Rataziaev's rooms, one of his +friends began to read a scribbled note which I had written to +you, and then inadvertently pulled out of my pocket. Oh beloved, +what laughter there arose at the recital! How those scoundrels +mocked and derided you and myself! I walked up to them and +accused Rataziaev of breaking faith. I said that he had played +the traitor. But he only replied that I had been the betrayer in +the case, by indulging in various amours. "You have kept them +very dark though, Mr. Lovelace!" said he-- and now I am known +everywhere by this name of "Lovelace." They know EVERYTHING about +us, my darling, EVERYTHING--both about you and your affairs and +about myself; and when today I was for sending Phaldoni to the +bakeshop for something or other, he refused to go, saying that it +was not his business. "But you MUST go," said I. "I will not," he +replied. "You have not paid my mistress what you owe her, so I am +not bound to run your errands." At such an insult from a raw +peasant I lost my temper, and called him a fool; to which he +retorted in a similar vein. Upon this I thought that he must be +drunk, and told him so; whereupon he replied: "WHAT say you that +I am? Suppose you yourself go and sober up, for I know that the +other day you went to visit a woman, and that you got drunk with +her on two grivenniks." To such a pass have things come! I feel +ashamed to be seen alive. I am, as it were, a man proclaimed; I +am in a worse plight even than a tramp who has lost his passport. +How misfortunes are heaping themselves upon me! I am lost--I am +lost for ever! + +M. D. + + + + August 13th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--It is true that misfortune is +following upon misfortune. I myself scarcely know what to do. +Yet, no matter how you may be fairing, you must not look for help +from me, for only today I burned my left hand with the iron! At +one and the same moment I dropped the iron, made a mistake in my +work, and burned myself! So now I can no longer work. Also, these +three days past, Thedora has been ailing. My anxiety is becoming +positively torturous. Nevertheless, I send you thirty kopecks-- +almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as I should +have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. +I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of +mine. You will bring me much comfort if only you will come and +see me today. + +B. D. + + + +August 14th. + +What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch? Surely you cannot +fear the Lord God as you ought to do? You are not only driving me +to distraction but also ruining yourself with this eternal +solicitude for your reputation. You are a man of honour, nobility +of character, and self-respect, as everyone knows; yet, at any +moment, you are ready to die with shame! Surely you should have +more consideration for your grey hairs. No, the fear of God has +departed from you. Thedora has told you that it is out of my +power to render you anymore help. See, therefore, to what a pass +you have brought me! Probably you think it is nothing to me that +you should behave so badly; probably you do not realise what you +have made me suffer. I dare not set foot on the staircase here, +for if I do so I am stared at, and pointed at, and spoken about +in the most horrible manner. Yes, it is even said of me that I am +"united to a drunkard." What a thing to hear! And whenever you +are brought home drunk folk say, "They are carrying in that +tchinovnik." THAT is not the proper way to make me help you. I +swear that I MUST leave this place, and go and get work as a cook +or a laundress. It is impossible for me to stay here. Long ago I +wrote and asked you to come and see me, yet you have not come. +Truly my tears and prayers must mean NOTHING to you, Makar +Alexievitch! Whence, too, did you get the money for your +debauchery? For the love of God be more careful of yourself, or +you will be ruined. How shameful, how abominable of you! So the +landlady would not admit you last night, and you spent the night +on the doorstep? Oh, I know all about it. Yet if only you could +have seen my agony when I heard the news! . . . Come and see me, +Makar Alexievitch, and we will once more be happy together. Yes, +we will read together, and talk of old times, and Thedora shall +tell you of her pilgrimages in former days. For God's sake +beloved, do not ruin both yourself and me. I live for you alone; +it is for your sake alone that I am still here. Be your better +self once more--the self which still can remain firm in the face +of misfortune. Poverty is no crime; always remember that. After +all, why should we despair? Our present difficulties will pass +away, and God will right us. Only be brave. I send you two +grivenniks for the purchase of some tobacco or anything else that +you need; but, for the love of heaven, do not spend the money +foolishly. Come you and see me soon; come without fail. Perhaps +you may be ashamed to meet me, as you were before, but you NEED +not feel like that--such shame would be misplaced. Only do bring +with you sincere repentance and trust in God, who orders all +things for the best. + +B. D. + + + + August 19th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA, -Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my +darling--I AM ashamed. At the same time, what is there in all +this? Why should we not be cheerful again? Why should I mind the +soles of my feet coming through my boots? The sole of one's foot +is a mere bagatelle--it will never be anything but just a base, +dirty sole. And shoes do not matter, either. The Greek sages used +to walk about without them, so why should we coddle ourselves +with such things? Yet why, also, should I be insulted and +despised because of them? Tell Thedora that she is a rubbishy, +tiresome, gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly foolish +one. As for my grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, +inasmuch as I am not such an old man as you think. Emelia sends +you his greeting. You write that you are in great distress, and +have been weeping. Well, I too am in great distress, and have +been weeping. Nay, nay. I wish you the best of health and +happiness, even as I am well and happy myself, so long as I may +remain, my darling,--Your friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +August 21st. + +MY DEAR AND KIND BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I feel that I am guilty, I +feel that I have sinned against you. Yet also I feel, from what +you say, that it is no use for me so to feel. Even before I had +sinned I felt as I do now; but I gave way to despair, and the +more so as recognised my fault. Darling, I am not cruel or +hardhearted. To rend your little soul would be the act of a +blood-thirsty tiger, whereas I have the heart of a sheep. You +yourself know that I am not addicted to bloodthirstiness, and +therefore that I cannot really be guilty of the fault in +question, seeing that neither my mind nor my heart have +participated in it. + +Nor can I understand wherein the guilt lies. To me it is all a +mystery. When you sent me those thirty kopecks, and thereafter +those two grivenniks, my heart sank within me as I looked at the +poor little money. To think that though you had burned your hand, +and would soon be hungry, you could write to me that I was to buy +tobacco! What was I to do? Remorselessly to rob you, an orphan, +as any brigand might do? I felt greatly depressed, dearest. That +is to say, persuaded that I should never do any good with my +life, and that I was inferior even to the sole of my own boot, I +took it into my head that it was absurd for me to aspire at all-- +rather, that I ought to account myself a disgrace and an +abomination. Once a man has lost his self-respect, and has +decided to abjure his better qualities and human dignity, he +falls headlong, and cannot choose but do so. It is decreed of +fate, and therefore I am not guilty in this respect. + +That evening I went out merely to get a breath of fresh air, but +one thing followed another-- the weather was cold, all nature was +looking mournful, and I had fallen in with Emelia. This man had +spent everything that he possessed, and, at the time I met him, +had not for two days tasted a crust of bread. He had tried to +raise money by pawning, but what articles he had for the purpose +had been refused by the pawnbrokers. It was more from sympathy +for a fellow-man than from any liking for the individual that I +yielded. That is how the fault arose, dearest. + +He spoke of you, and I mingled my tears with his. Yes, he is a +man of kind, kind heart--a man of deep feeling. I often feel as +he did, dearest, and, in addition, I know how beholden to you I +am. As soon as ever I got to know you I began both to realise +myself and to love you; for until you came into my life I had +been a lonely man--I had been, as it were, asleep rather than +alive. In former days my rascally colleagues used to tell me that +I was unfit even to be seen; in fact, they so disliked me that at +length I began to dislike myself, for, being frequently told that +I was stupid, I began to believe that I really was so. But the +instant that YOU came into my life, you lightened the dark places +in it, you lightened both my heart and my soul. Gradually, I +gained rest of spirit, until I had come to see that I was no +worse than other men, and that, though I had neither style nor +brilliancy nor polish, I was still a MAN as regards my thoughts +and feelings. But now, alas! pursued and scorned of fate, I have +again allowed myself to abjure my own dignity. Oppressed of +misfortune, I have lost my courage. Here is my confession to you, +dearest. With tears I beseech you not to inquire further into the +matter, for my heart is breaking, and life has grown indeed hard +and bitter for me--Beloved, I offer you my respect, and remain +ever your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 3rd. + +The reason why I did not finish my last letter, Makar +Alexievitch, was that I found it so difficult to write. There are +moments when I am glad to be alone--to grieve and repine without +any one to share my sorrow: and those moments are beginning to +come upon me with ever-increasing frequency. Always in my +reminiscences I find something which is inexplicable, yet +strongly attractive-so much so that for hours together I remain +insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. Indeed, in +my present life there is not a single impression that I +encounter--pleasant or the reverse-- which does not recall to my +mind something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly +is this the case with regard to my childhood, my golden +childhood. Yet such moments always leave me depressed. They +render me weak, and exhaust my powers of fancy; with the result +that my health, already not good, grows steadily worse. + +However, this morning it is a fine, fresh, cloudless day, such as +we seldom get in autumn. The air has revived me and I greet it +with joy. Yet to think that already the fall of the year has +come! How I used to love the country in autumn! Then but a child, +I was yet a sensitive being who loved autumn evenings better than +autumn mornings. I remember how beside our house, at the foot of +a hill, there lay a large pond, and how the pond--I can see it +even now!--shone with a broad, level surface that was as clear as +crystal. On still evenings this pond would be at rest, and not a +rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks and +overhung the motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to +seem, yet how cold! The dew would be falling upon the turf, +lights would be beginning to shine forth from the huts on the +pond's margin, and the cattle would be wending their way home. +Then quietly I would slip out of the house to look at my beloved +pond, and forget myself in contemplation. Here and there a +fisherman's bundle of brushwood would be burning at the water's +edge, and sending its light far and wide over the surface. Above, +the sky would be of a cold blue colour, save for a fringe of +flame-coloured streaks on the horizon that kept turning ever +paler and paler; and when the moon had come out there would be +wafted through the limpid air the sounds of a frightened bird +fluttering, of a bulrush rubbing against its fellows in the +gentle breeze, and of a fish rising with a splash. Over the dark +water there would gather a thin, transparent mist; and though, in +the distance, night would be looming, and seemingly enveloping +the entire horizon, everything closer at hand would be standing +out as though shaped with a chisel--banks, boats, little islands, +and all. Beside the margin a derelict barrel would be turning +over and over in the water; a switch of laburnum, with yellowing +leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; and a belated gull +would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise once +more, and disappear into the mist. How I would watch and listen +to these things! How strangely good they all would seem! But I +was a mere infant in those days--a mere child. + +Yes, truly I loved autumn-tide--the late autumn when the crops +are garnered, and field work is ended, and the evening gatherings +in the huts have begun, and everyone is awaiting winter. Then +does everything become more mysterious, the sky frowns with +clouds, yellow leaves strew the paths at the edge of the naked +forest, and the forest itself turns black and blue--more +especially at eventide when damp fog is spreading and the trees +glimmer in the depths like giants, like formless, weird phantoms. +Perhaps one may be out late, and had got separated from one's +companions. Oh horrors! Suddenly one starts and trembles as one +seems to see a strange-looking being peering from out of the +darkness of a hollow tree, while all the while the wind is +moaning and rattling and howling through the forest--moaning with +a hungry sound as it strips the leaves from the bare boughs, and +whirls them into the air. High over the tree-tops, in a +widespread, trailing, noisy crew, there fly, with resounding +cries, flocks of birds which seem to darken and overlay the very +heavens. Then a strange feeling comes over one, until one seems +to hear the voice of some one whispering: "Run, run, little +child! Do not be out late, for this place will soon have become +dreadful! Run, little child! Run!" And at the words terror will +possess one's soul, and one will rush and rush until one's breath +is spent--until, panting, one has reached home. + +At home, however, all will look bright and bustling as we +children are set to shell peas or poppies, and the damp twigs +crackle in the stove, and our mother comes to look fondly at our +work, and our old nurse, Iliana, tells us stories of bygone days, +or terrible legends concerning wizards and dead men. At the +recital we little ones will press closer to one another, yet +smile as we do so; when suddenly, everyone becomes silent. Surely +somebody has knocked at the door? . . . But nay, nay; it is only +the sound of Frolovna's spinning-wheel. What shouts of laughter +arise! Later one will be unable to sleep for fear of the strange +dreams which come to visit one; or, if one falls asleep, one will +soon wake again, and, afraid to stir, lie quaking under the +coverlet until dawn. And in the morning, one will arise as fresh +as a lark and look at the window, and see the fields overlaid +with hoarfrost, and fine icicles hanging from the naked branches, +and the pond covered over with ice as thin as paper, and a white +steam rising from the surface, and birds flying overhead with +cheerful cries. Next, as the sun rises, he throws his glittering +beams everywhere, and melts the thin, glassy ice until the whole +scene has come to look bright and clear and exhilarating; and as +the fire begins to crackle again in the stove, we sit down to the +tea-urn, while, chilled with the night cold, our black dog, +Polkan, will look in at us through the window, and wag his tail +with a cheerful air. Presently, a peasant will pass the window in +his cart bound for the forest to cut firewood, and the whole +party will feel merry and contented together. Abundant grain lies +stored in the byres, and great stacks of wheat are glowing +comfortably in the morning sunlight. Everyone is quiet and happy, +for God has blessed us with a bounteous harvest, and we know that +there will be abundance of food for the wintertide. Yes, the +peasant may rest assured that his family will not want for aught. +Song and dance will arise at night from the village girls, and on +festival days everyone will repair to God's house to thank Him +with grateful tears for what He has done . . . . Ah, a golden +time was my time of childhood! . . . + +Carried away by these memories, I could weep like a child. +Everything, everything comes back so clearly to my recollection! +The past stands out so vividly before me! Yet in the present +everything looks dim and dark! How will it all end?--how? Do you +know, I have a feeling, a sort of sure premonition, that I am +going to die this coming autumn; for I feel terribly, oh so +terribly ill! Often do I think of death, yet feel that I should +not like to die here and be laid to rest in the soil of St. +Petersburg. Once more I have had to take to my bed, as I did last +spring, for I have never really recovered. Indeed I feel so +depressed! Thedora has gone out for the day, and I am alone. For +a long while past I have been afraid to be left by myself, for I +keep fancying that there is someone else in the room, and that +that someone is speaking to me. Especially do I fancy this when +I have gone off into a reverie, and then suddenly awoken from it, +and am feeling bewildered. That is why I have made this letter +such a long one; for, when I am writing, the mood passes away. +Goodbye. I have neither time nor paper left for more, and must +close. Of the money which I saved to buy a new dress and hat, +there remains but a single rouble; but, I am glad that you have +been able to pay your landlady two roubles, for they will keep +her tongue quiet for a time. And you must repair your wardrobe. + +Goodbye once more. I am so tired! Nor can I think why I am +growing so weak--why it is that even the smallest task now +wearies me? Even if work should come my way, how am I to do it? +That is what worries me above all things. + +B. D. + + + + September 5th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA,--Today I have undergone a variety of +experiences. In the first place, my head has been aching, and +towards evening I went out to get a breath of fresh air along the +Fontanka Canal. The weather was dull and damp, and even by six +o'clock, darkness had begun to set in. True, rain was not +actually falling, but only a mist like rain, while the sky was +streaked with masses of trailing cloud. Crowds of people were +hurrying along Naberezhnaia Street, with faces that looked +strange and dejected. There were drunken peasants; snub-nosed old +harridans in slippers; bareheaded artisans; cab drivers; every +species of beggar; boys; a locksmith's apprentice in a striped +smock, with lean, emaciated features which seemed to have been +washed in rancid oil; an ex-soldier who was offering penknives +and copper rings for sale; and so on, and so on. It was the hour +when one would expect to meet no other folk than these. And what +a quantity of boats there were on the canal. It made one wonder +how they could all find room there. On every bridge were old +women selling damp gingerbread or withered apples, and every +woman looked as damp and dirty as her wares. In short, the +Fontanka is a saddening spot for a walk, for there is wet granite +under one's feet, and tall, dingy buildings on either side of +one, and wet mist below and wet mist above. Yes, all was dark and +gloomy there this evening. + +By the time I had returned to Gorokhovaia Street darkness had +fallen and the lamps had been lit. However, I did not linger long +in that particular spot, for Gorokhovaia Street is too noisy a +place. But what sumptuous shops and stores it contains! +Everything sparkles and glitters, and the windows are full of +nothing but bright colours and materials and hats of different +shapes. One might think that they were decked merely for display; +but no,--people buy these things, and give them to their wives! +Yes, it IS a sumptuous place. Hordes of German hucksters are +there, as well as quite respectable traders. And the quantities +of carriages which pass along the street! One marvels that the +pavement can support so many splendid vehicles, with windows like +crystal, linings made of silk and velvet, and lacqueys dressed in +epaulets and wearing swords! Into some of them I glanced, and saw +that they contained ladies of various ages. Perhaps they were +princesses and countesses! Probably at that hour such folk would +be hastening to balls and other gatherings. In fact, it was +interesting to be able to look so closely at a princess or a +great lady. They were all very fine. At all events, I had never +before seen such persons as I beheld in those carriages. . . . + +Then I thought of you. Ah, my own, my darling, it is often that I +think of you and feel my heart sink. How is it that YOU are so +unfortunate, Barbara? How is it that YOU are so much worse off +than other people? In my eyes you are kind-hearted, beautiful, +and clever-- why, then, has such an evil fate fallen to your lot? +How comes it that you are left desolate--you, so good a human +being! While to others happiness comes without an invitation at +all? Yes, I know--I know it well--that I ought not to say it, for +to do so savours of free-thought; but why should that raven, +Fate, croak out upon the fortunes of one person while she is yet +in her mother's womb, while another person it permits to go forth +in happiness from the home which has reared her? To even an idiot +of an Ivanushka such happiness is sometimes granted. "You, you +fool Ivanushka," says Fate, "shall succeed to your grandfather's +money-bags, and eat, drink, and be merry; whereas YOU (such and +such another one) shall do no more than lick the dish, since that +is all that you are good for." Yes, I know that it is wrong to +hold such opinions, but involuntarily the sin of so doing grows +upon one's soul. Nevertheless, it is you, my darling, who ought +to be riding in one of those carriages. Generals would have come +seeking your favour, and, instead of being clad in a humble +cotton dress, you would have been walking in silken and golden +attire. Then you would not have been thin and wan as now, but +fresh and plump and rosy-cheeked as a figure on a sugar-cake. +Then should I too have been happy--happy if only I could look at +your lighted windows from the street, and watch your shadow-- +happy if only I could think that you were well and happy, my +sweet little bird! Yet how are things in reality? Not only have +evil folk brought you to ruin, but there comes also an old rascal +of a libertine to insult you! Just because he struts about in a +frockcoat, and can ogle you through a gold-mounted lorgnette, the +brute thinks that everything will fall into his hands--that you +are bound to listen to his insulting condescension! Out upon him! +But why is this? It is because you are an orphan, it is because +you are unprotected, it is because you have no powerful friend to +afford you the decent support which is your due. WHAT do such +facts matter to a man or to men to whom the insulting of an +orphan is an offence allowed? Such fellows are not men at all, +but mere vermin, no matter what they think themselves to be. Of +that I am certain. Why, an organ-grinder whom I met in +Gorokhovaia Street would inspire more respect than they do, for +at least he walks about all day, and suffers hunger--at least he +looks for a stray, superfluous groat to earn him subsistence, and +is, therefore, a true gentleman, in that he supports himself. To +beg alms he would be ashamed; and, moreover, he works for the +benefit of mankind just as does a factory machine. "So far as in +me lies," says he, "I will give you pleasure." True, he is a +pauper, and nothing but a pauper; but, at least he is an +HONOURABLE pauper. Though tired and hungry, he still goes on +working--working in his own peculiar fashion, yet still doing +honest labour. Yes, many a decent fellow whose labour may be +disproportionate to its utility pulls the forelock to no one, and +begs his bread of no one. I myself resemble that organ-grinder. +That is to say, though not exactly he, I resemble him in this +respect, that I work according to my capabilities, and so far as +in me lies. More could be asked of no one; nor ought I to be +adjudged to do more. + +Apropos of the organ-grinder, I may tell you, dearest, that today +I experienced a double misfortune. As I was looking at the +grinder, certain thoughts entered my head and I stood wrapped in +a reverie. Some cabmen also had halted at the spot, as well as a +young girl, with a yet smaller girl who was dressed in rags and +tatters. These people had halted there to listen to the organ- +grinder, who was playing in front of some one's windows. Next, I +caught sight of a little urchin of about ten--a boy who would +have been good-looking but for the fact that his face was pinched +and sickly. Almost barefooted, and clad only in a shirt, he was +standing agape to listen to the music--a pitiful childish figure. +Nearer to the grinder a few more urchins were dancing, but in the +case of this lad his hands and feet looked numbed, and he kept +biting the end of his sleeve and shivering. Also, I noticed that +in his hands he had a paper of some sort. Presently a gentleman +came by, and tossed the grinder a small coin, which fell straight +into a box adorned with a representation of a Frenchman and some +ladies. The instant he heard the rattle of the coin, the boy +started, looked timidly round, and evidently made up his mind +that I had thrown the money; whereupon, he ran to me with his +little hands all shaking, and said in a tremulous voice as he +proffered me his paper: "Pl-please sign this." I turned over the +paper, and saw that there was written on it what is usual under +such circumstances. "Kind friends I am a sick mother with three +hungry children. Pray help me. Though soon I shall be dead, yet, +if you will not forget my little ones in this world, neither will +I forget you in the world that is to come." The thing seemed +clear enough; it was a matter of life and death. Yet what was I +to give the lad? Well, I gave him nothing. But my heart ached for +him. I am certain that, shivering with cold though he was, and +perhaps hungry, the poor lad was not lying. No, no, he was not +lying. + +The shameful point is that so many mothers take no care of their +children, but send them out, half-clad, into the cold. Perhaps +this lad's mother also was a feckless old woman, and devoid of +character? Or perhaps she had no one to work for her, but was +forced to sit with her legs crossed--a veritable invalid? Or +perhaps she was just an old rogue who was in the habit of sending +out pinched and hungry boys to deceive the public? What would +such a boy learn from begging letters? His heart would soon be +rendered callous, for, as he ran about begging, people would pass +him by and give him nothing. Yes, their hearts would be as stone, +and their replies rough and harsh. "Away with you!" they would +say. "You are seeking but to trick us." He would hear that from +every one, and his heart would grow hard, and he would shiver in +vain with the cold, like some poor little fledgling that has +fallen out of the nest. His hands and feet would be freezing, and +his breath coming with difficulty; until, look you, he would +begin to cough, and disease, like an unclean parasite, would worm +its way into his breast until death itself had overtaken him-- +overtaken him in some foetid corner whence there was no chance of +escape. Yes, that is what his life would become. + +There are many such cases. Ah, Barbara, it is hard to hear "For +Christ's sake!" and yet pass the suppliant by and give nothing, +or say merely: "May the Lord give unto you!" Of course, SOME +supplications mean nothing (for supplications differ greatly in +character). Occasionally supplications are long, drawn-out and +drawling, stereotyped and mechanical--they are purely begging +supplications. Requests of this kind it is less hard to refuse, +for they are purely professional and of long standing. "The +beggar is overdoing it," one thinks to oneself. "He knows the +trick too well." But there are other supplications which voice a +strange, hoarse, unaccustomed note, like that today when I took +the poor boy's paper. He had been standing by the kerbstone +without speaking to anybody-- save that at last to myself he +said, "For the love of Christ give me a groat!" in a voice so +hoarse and broken that I started, and felt a queer sensation in +my heart, although I did not give him a groat. Indeed, I had not +a groat on me. Rich folk dislike hearing poor people complain of +their poverty. "They disturb us," they say, "and are impertinent +as well. Why should poverty be so impertinent? Why should its +hungry moans prevent us from sleeping?" + +To tell you the truth, my darling, I have written the foregoing +not merely to relieve my feelings, but, also, still more, to give +you an example of the excellent style in which I can write. You +yourself will recognise that my style was formed long ago, but of +late such fits of despondency have seized upon me that my style +has begun to correspond to my feelings; and though I know that +such correspondence gains one little, it at least renders one a +certain justice. For not unfrequently it happens that, for some +reason or another, one feels abased, and inclined to value +oneself at nothing, and to account oneself lower than a +dishclout; but this merely arises from the fact that at the time +one is feeling harassed and depressed, like the poor boy who +today asked of me alms. Let me tell you an allegory, dearest, and +do you hearken to it. Often, as I hasten to the office in the +morning, I look around me at the city--I watch it awaking, +getting out of bed, lighting its fires, cooking its breakfast, +and becoming vocal; and at the sight, I begin to feel smaller, as +though some one had dealt me a rap on my inquisitive nose. Yes, +at such times I slink along with a sense of utter humiliation in +my heart. For one would have but to see what is passing within +those great, black, grimy houses of the capital, and to penetrate +within their walls, for one at once to realise what good reason +there is for self-depredation and heart-searching. Of course, you +will note that I am speaking figuratively rather than literally. + +Let us look at what is passing within those houses. In some dingy +corner, perhaps, in some damp kennel which is supposed to be a +room, an artisan has just awakened from sleep. All night he has +dreamt--IF such an insignificant fellow is capable of dreaming?-- +about the shoes which last night he mechanically cut out. He is a +master-shoemaker, you see, and therefore able to think of nothing +but his one subject of interest. Nearby are some squalling +children and a hungry wife. Nor is he the only man that has to +greet the day in this fashion. Indeed, the incident would be +nothing--it would not be worth writing about, save for another +circumstance. In that same house ANOTHER person--a person of +great wealth-may also have been dreaming of shoes; but, of shoes +of a very different pattern and fashion (in a manner of speaking, +if you understand my metaphor, we are all of us shoemakers). +This, again, would be nothing, were it not that the rich person +has no one to whisper in his ear: "Why dost thou think of such +things? Why dost thou think of thyself alone, and live only for +thyself--thou who art not a shoemaker? THY children are not +ailing. THY wife is not hungry. Look around thee. Can'st thou not +find a subject more fitting for thy thoughts than thy shoes?" +That is what I want to say to you in allegorical language, +Barbara. Maybe it savours a little of free-thought, dearest; but, +such ideas WILL keep arising in my mind and finding utterance in +impetuous speech. Why, therefore, should one not value oneself at +a groat as one listens in fear and trembling to the roar and +turmoil of the city? Maybe you think that I am exaggerating +things--that this is a mere whim of mine, or that I am quoting +from a book? No, no, Barbara. You may rest assured that it is not +so. Exaggeration I abhor, with whims I have nothing to do, and of +quotation I am guiltless. + +I arrived home today in a melancholy mood. Sitting down to the +table, I had warmed myself some tea, and was about to drink a +second glass of it, when there entered Gorshkov, the poor lodger. +Already, this morning, I had noticed that he was hovering around +the other lodgers, and also seeming to want to speak to myself. +In passing I may say that his circumstances are infinitely worse +than my own; for, only think of it, he has a wife and children! +Indeed, if I were he, I do not know what I should do. Well, he +entered my room, and bowed to me with the pus standing, as usual, +in drops on his eyelashes, his feet shuffling about, and his +tongue unable, at first, to articulate a word. I motioned him to +a chair (it was a dilapidated enough one, but I had no other), +and asked him to have a glass of tea. To this he demurred--for +quite a long time he demurred, but at length he accepted the +offer. Next, he was for drinking the tea without sugar, and +renewed his excuses, but upon the sugar I insisted. After long +resistance and many refusals, he DID consent to take some, but +only the smallest possible lump; after which, he assured me that +his tea was perfectly sweet. To what depths of humility can +poverty reduce a man! "Well, what is it, my good sir?" I inquired +of him; whereupon he replied: "It is this, Makar Alexievitch. You +have once before been my benefactor. Pray again show me the +charity of God, and assist my unfortunate family. My wife and +children have nothing to eat. To think that a father should have +to say this!" I was about to speak again when he interrupted me. +"You see," he continued, "I am afraid of the other lodgers here. +That is to say, I am not so much afraid of, as ashamed to address +them, for they are a proud, conceited lot of men. Nor would I +have troubled even you, my friend and former benefactor, were it +not that I know that you yourself have experienced misfortune and +are in debt; wherefore, I have ventured to come and make this +request of you, in that I know you not only to be kind-hearted, +but also to be in need, and for that reason the more likely to +sympathise with me in my distress." To this he added an apology +for his awkwardness and presumption. I replied that, glad though +I should have been to serve him, I had nothing, absolutely +nothing, at my disposal. "Ah, Makar Alexievitch," he went on, +"surely it is not much that I am asking of you? My-my wife and +children are starving. C-could you not afford me just a +grivennik?" At that my heart contracted, "How these people put +me to shame!" thought I. But I had only twenty kopecks left, and +upon them I had been counting for meeting my most pressing +requirements. "No, good sir, I cannot," said I. "Well, what you +will," he persisted. "Perhaps ten kopecks?" Well I got out my +cash-box, and gave him the twenty. It was a good deed. To think +that such poverty should exist! Then I had some further talk with +him. "How is it," I asked him, "that, though you are in such +straits, you have hired a room at five roubles?" He replied that +though, when he engaged the room six months ago, he paid three +months' rent in advance, his affairs had subsequently turned out +badly, and never righted themselves since. You see, Barbara, he +was sued at law by a merchant who had defrauded the Treasury in +the matter of a contract. When the fraud was discovered the +merchant was prosecuted, but the transactions in which he had +engaged involved Gorshkov, although the latter had been guilty +only of negligence, want of prudence, and culpable indifference +to the Treasury's interests. True, the affair had taken place +some years ago, but various obstacles had since combined to +thwart Gorshkov. "Of the disgrace put upon me," said he to me, "I +am innocent. True, I to a certain extent disobeyed orders, but +never did I commit theft or embezzlement." Nevertheless the +affair lost him his character. He was dismissed the service, and +though not adjudged capitally guilty, has been unable since to +recover from the merchant a large sum of money which is his by +right, as spared to him (Gorshkov) by the legal tribunal. True, +the tribunal in question did not altogether believe in Gorshkov, +but I do so. The matter is of a nature so complex and crooked +that probably a hundred years would be insufficient to unravel +it; and, though it has now to a certain extent been cleared up, +the merchant still holds the key to the situation. Personally I +side with Gorshkov, and am very sorry for him. Though lacking a +post of any kind, he still refuses to despair, though his +resources are completely exhausted. Yes, it is a tangled affair, +and meanwhile he must live, for, unfortunately, another child +which has been born to him has entailed upon the family fresh +expenses. Also, another of his children recently fell ill and +died-- which meant yet further expense. Lastly, not only is his +wife in bad health, but he himself is suffering from a complaint +of long standing. In short, he has had a very great deal to +undergo. Yet he declares that daily he expects a favourable issue +to his affair--that he has no doubt of it whatever. I am terribly +sorry for him, and said what I could to give him comfort, for he +is a man who has been much bullied and misled. He had come to me +for protection from his troubles, so I did my best to soothe him. +Now, goodbye, my darling. May Christ watch over you and preserve +your health. Dearest one, even to think of you is like medicine +to my ailing soul. Though I suffer for you, I at least suffer +gladly.--Your true friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 9th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I am beside myself as I take up my +pen, for a most terrible thing has happened. My head is whirling +round. Ah, beloved, how am I to tell you about it all? I had +never foreseen what has happened. But no-- I cannot say that I +had NEVER foreseen it, for my mind DID get an inkling of what was +coming, through my seeing something very similar to it in a +dream. + +I will tell you the whole story--simply, and as God may put it +into my heart. Today I went to the office as usual, and, upon +arrival, sat down to write. You must know that I had been engaged +on the same sort of work yesterday, and that, while executing it, +I had been approached by Timothei Ivanovitch with an urgent +request for a particular document. "Makar Alexievitch," he had +said, "pray copy this out for me. Copy it as quickly and as +carefully as you can, for it will require to be signed today." +Also let me tell you, dearest, that yesterday I had not been +feeling myself, nor able to look at anything. I had been troubled +with grave depression--my breast had felt chilled, and my head +clouded. All the while I had been thinking of you, my darling. +Well, I set to work upon the copying, and executed it cleanly and +well, except for the fact that, whether the devil confused my +mind, or a mysterious fate so ordained, or the occurrence was +simply bound to happen, I left out a whole line of the document, +and thus made nonsense of it! The work had been given me too late +for signature last night, so it went before his Excellency this +morning. I reached the office at my usual hour, and sat down +beside Emelia Ivanovitch. Here I may remark that for a long time +past I have been feeling twice as shy and diffident as I used to +do; I have been finding it impossible to look people in the face. +Let only a chair creak, and I become more dead than alive. Today, +therefore, I crept humbly to my seat and sat down in such a +crouching posture that Efim Akimovitch (the most touchy man in +the world) said to me sotto voce: "What on earth makes you sit +like that, Makar Alexievitch?" Then he pulled such a grimace that +everyone near us rocked with laughter at my expense. I stopped my +ears, frowned, and sat without moving, for I found this the best +method of putting a stop to such merriment. All at once I heard a +bustle and a commotion and the sound of someone running towards +us. Did my ears deceive me? It was I who was being summoned in +peremptory tones! My heart started to tremble within me, though I +could not say why. I only know that never in my life before had +it trembled as it did then. Still I clung to my chair- -and at +that moment was hardly myself at all. The voices were coming +nearer and nearer, until they were shouting in my ear: +"Dievushkin! Dievushkin! Where is Dievushkin?" Then at length I +raised my eyes, and saw before me Evstafi Ivanovitch. He said to +me: "Makar Alexievitch, go at once to his Excellency. You have +made a mistake in a document." That was all, but it was enough, +was it not? I felt dead and cold as ice--I felt absolutely +deprived of the power of sensation; but, I rose from my seat and +went whither I had been bidden. Through one room, through two +rooms, through three rooms I passed, until I was conducted into +his Excellency's cabinet itself. Of my thoughts at that moment I +can give no exact account. I merely saw his Excellency standing +before me, with a knot of people around him. I have an idea that +I did not salute him--that I forgot to do so. Indeed, so panic- +stricken was I, that my teeth were chattering and my knees +knocking together. In the first place, I was greatly ashamed of +my appearance (a glance into a mirror on the right had frightened +me with the reflection of myself that it presented), and, in the +second place, I had always been accustomed to comport myself as +though no such person as I existed. Probably his Excellency had +never before known that I was even alive. Of course, he might +have heard, in passing, that there was a man named Dievushkin in +his department; but never for a moment had he had any intercourse +with me. + +He began angrily: "What is this you have done, sir? Why are you +not more careful? The document was wanted in a hurry, and you +have gone and spoiled it. What do you think of it?"--the last +being addressed to Evstafi Ivanovitch. More I did not hear, +except for some flying exclamations of "What negligence and +carelessness! How awkward this is!" and so on. I opened my mouth +to say something or other; I tried to beg pardon, but could not. +To attempt to leave the room, I had not the hardihood. Then there +happened something the recollection of which causes the pen to +tremble in my hand with shame. A button of mine--the devil take +it!--a button of mine that was hanging by a single thread +suddenly broke off, and hopped and skipped and rattled and rolled +until it had reached the feet of his Excellency himself--this +amid a profound general silence! THAT was what came of my +intended self-justification and plea for mercy! THAT was the only +answer that I had to return to my chief! + +The sequel I shudder to relate. At once his Excellency's +attention became drawn to my figure and costume. I remembered +what I had seen in the mirror, and hastened to pursue the button. +Obstinacy of a sort seized upon me, and I did my best to arrest +the thing, but it slipped away, and kept turning over and over, +so that I could not grasp it, and made a sad spectacle of myself +with my awkwardness. Then there came over me a feeling that my +last remaining strength was about to leave me, and that all, all +was lost--reputation, manhood, everything! In both ears I seemed +to hear the voices of Theresa and Phaldoni. At length, however, I +grasped the button, and, raising and straightening myself, stood +humbly with clasped hands--looking a veritable fool! But no. +First of all I tried to attach the button to the ragged threads, +and smiled each time that it broke away from them, and smiled +again. In the beginning his Excellency had turned away, but now +he threw me another glance, and I heard him say to Evstafi +Ivanovitch: "What on earth is the matter with the fellow? Look at +the figure he cuts! Who to God is he? Ah, beloved, only to hear +that, "Who to God is he? Truly I had made myself a marked man! In +reply to his Excellency Evstafi murmured: "He is no one of any +note, though his character is good. Besides, his salary is +sufficient as the scale goes." "Very well, then; but help him out +of his difficulties somehow," said his Excellency. "Give him a +trifle of salary in advance." "It is all forestalled," was the +reply. "He drew it some time ago. But his record is good. There +is nothing against him." At this I felt as though I were in Hell +fire. I could actually have died! "Well, well," said his +Excellency, "let him copy out the document a second time. +Dievushkin, come here. You are to make another copy of this +paper, and to make it as quickly as possible." With that he +turned to some other officials present, issued to them a few +orders, and the company dispersed. No sooner had they done so +than his Excellency hurriedly pulled out a pocket-book, took +thence a note for a hundred roubles, and, with the words, "Take +this. It is as much as I can afford. Treat it as you like," +placed the money in my hand! At this, dearest, I started and +trembled, for I was moved to my very soul. What next I did I +hardly know, except that I know that I seized his Excellency by +the hand. But he only grew very red, and then--no, I am not +departing by a hair's-breadth from the truth--it is true-- that +he took this unworthy hand in his, and shook it! Yes, he took +this hand of mine in his, and shook it, as though I had been his +equal, as though I had been a general like himself! "Go now," he +said. "This is all that I can do for you. Make no further +mistakes, and I will overlook your fault." + +What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and +had I any children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God +for his Excellency. I should say to my children: "For your father +you need not pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until +your lives shall end." Yes, dear one--I tell you this in all +solemnity, so hearken well unto my words--that though, during +these cruel days of our adversity, I have nearly died of distress +of soul at the sight of you and your poverty, as well as at the +sight of myself and my abasement and helplessness, I yet care +less for the hundred roubles which his Excellency has given me +than for the fact that he was good enough to take the hand of a +wretched drunkard in his own and press it. By that act he +restored me to myself. By that act he revived my courage, he made +life forever sweet to me. . . . Yes, sure am I that, sinner +though I be before the Almighty, my prayers for the happiness and +prosperity of his Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly +Throne! . . . + +But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and +distraught. My heart is beating as though it would burst my +breast, and all my body seems weak. . . . I send you forty-five +roubles in notes. Another twenty I shall give to my landlady, and +the remaining thirty-five I shall keep--twenty for new clothes +and fifteen for actual living expenses. But these experiences of +the morning have shaken me to the core, and I must rest awhile. +It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in jerks--deep +down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling. . . . I +will come and see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching +with these various sensations. God sees all things, my darling, +my priceless treasure!--Your steadfast friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + September 10th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am unspeakably rejoiced at your +good fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. +Now, take a rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money +to no advantage. Live as quietly and as frugally as possible, and +from today begin always to set aside something, lest misfortune +again overtake you. Do not, for God's sake, worry yourself-- +Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have you sent me so much +money? I really do not need it--what I had already would have +been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further +funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping +before long to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at +least TWENTY roubles will have to be set aside for indispensable +requirements, but the remainder shall be returned to you. Pray +take care of it, Makar Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life +continue peacefully, and may you preserve your health and +spirits. I would have written to you at greater length had I not +felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left my bed. I am glad +that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you MUST pay me a +visit. + +B. D. + + + +September 11th. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I implore you not to leave me now +that I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora +says, and I will do anything in the world for you. I will behave +myself better, even if only out of respect for his Excellency, +and guard my every action. Once more we will exchange cheerful +letters with one another, and make mutual confidence of our +thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that we shall know any +more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily and +comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books. . . . Angel +of my heart, a great change has taken place in my fortunes--a +change very much for the better. My landlady has become more +accommodating; Theresa has recovered her senses; even Phaldoni +springs to do my bidding. Likewise, I have made my peace with +Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own accord, the moment that +he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt that he is a +good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that one +hears of him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had +any intention of putting me and yourself into a book. This he +told me himself, and then read to me his latest work. As for his +calling me "Lovelace," he had intended no rudeness or indecency +thereby. The term is merely one of foreign derivation, meaning a +clever fellow, or, in more literary and elegant language, a +gentleman with whom one must reckon. That is all; it was a mere +harmless jest, my beloved. Only ignorance made me lose my temper, +and I have expressed to him my regret. . . . How beautiful is the +weather today, my little Barbara! True, there was a slight frost +in the early morning, as though scattered through a sieve, but it +was nothing, and the breeze soon freshened the air. I went out to +buy some shoes, and obtained a splendid pair. Then, after a +stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read "The Daily Bee". This +reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important +thing of all. It happened like this: + +This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti +Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the +only person to whom he has acted kindly and been charitable, for +he is known to the whole world for his goodness of heart. In many +quarters his praises are to be heard; in many quarters he has +called forth tears of gratitude. Among other things, he undertook +the care of an orphaned girl, and married her to an official, the +son of a poor widow, and found this man place in a certain +chancellory, and in other ways benefited him. Well, dearest, I +considered it to be my duty to add my mite by publishing abroad +the story of his Excellency's gracious treatment of myself. +Accordingly, I related the whole occurrence to my interlocutors, +and concealed not a single detail. In fact, I put my pride into +my pocket--though why should I feel ashamed of having been elated +by such an occurrence? "Let it only be noised afield," said I to +myself, and it will resound greatly to his Excellency's credit.-- +So I expressed myself enthusiastically on the subject and never +faltered. On the contrary, I felt proud to have such a story to +tell. I referred to every one concerned (except to yourself, of +course, dearest)--to my landlady, to Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to +Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my shoes! Some of those +standing by laughed--in fact every one present did so, but +probably it was my own figure or the incident of my shoes--more +particularly the latter--that excited merriment, for I am sure it +was not meant ill-naturedly. My hearers may have been young men, +or well off; certainly they cannot have been laughing with evil +intent at what I had said. Anything against his Excellency CANNOT +have been in their thoughts. Eh, Barbara? + +Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by +recent events. . . . Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? +You must not expose yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my +spirits with your fears for the future. Daily I pray to God on +your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray to Him! . . . Likewise, have you any +woollen stockings to wear, and warm clothes generally? Mind you, +if there is anything you need, you must not hurt an old man's +feelings by failing to apply to him for what you require. The bad +times are gone now, and the future is looking bright and fair. + +But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, +and can no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually +recover ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days +I never had a kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, +I was always light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the +Nevski Prospect, and meet nice-looking people, and be happy all +day. Yes, it was a glorious, a glorious time! It was good to be +alive, especially in St. Petersburg. Yet it is but yesterday that +I was beseeching God with tears to pardon me my sins during the +late sorrowful period--to pardon me my murmurings and evil +thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in my +prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you +alone have given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget +that, dearest. Today I gave each one of your letters a kiss. . . +. Goodbye, beloved. I have been told that there is going to be a +sale of clothing somewhere in this neighbourhood. Once more +goodbye, goodbye, my angel-Yours in heart and soul, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 15th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am in terrible distress. I feel +sure that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved +friend, is that Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for +Thedora has met him. He was driving along in a drozhki, but, on +meeting Thedora, he ordered the coachman to stop, sprang out, and +inquired of her where she was living; but this she would not tell +him. Next, he said with a smile that he knew quite well who was +living with her (evidently Anna Thedorovna had told him); +whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer, but then and there, +in the street, railed at and abused him--telling him that he was +an immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To this he +replied that a person who did not possess a groat must surely be +rather badly off; to which Thedora retorted that I could always +either live by the labour of my hands or marry--that it was not +so much a question of my losing posts as of my losing my +happiness, the ruin of which had led almost to my death. In reply +he observed that, though I was still quite young, I seemed to +have lost my wits, and that my "virtue appeared to be under a +cloud" (I quote his exact words). Both I and Thedora had thought +that he does not know where I live; but, last night, just as I +had left the house to make a few purchases in the Gostinni Dvor, +he appeared at our rooms (evidently he had not wanted to find me +at home), and put many questions to Thedora concerning our way of +living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up with: "Who is +this tchinovnik friend of yours?" At the moment you happened to +be passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and +the man peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to +depart--telling him that I was still ill from grief, and that it +would give me great pain to see him there; to which, after a +pause, he replied that he had come because he had had nothing +better to do. Also, he was for giving Thedora twenty-five +roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What does it all +mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his getting +to know about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however, says +that Aksinia, her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her), +is acquainted with a laundress named Nastasia, and that this +woman has a cousin in the position of watchman to a department of +which a certain friend of Anna Thedorovna's nephew forms one of +the staff. Can it be, therefore, that an intrigue has been +hatched through THIS channel? But Thedora may be entirely +mistaken. We hardly know what to think. What if he should come +again? The very thought terrifies me. When Thedora told me of +this last night such terror seized upon me that I almost swooned +away. What can the man be wanting? At all events, I refuse to +know such people. What have they to do with my wretched self? Ah, +how I am haunted with anxiety, for every moment I keep thinking +that Bwikov is at hand! WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has +fate in store for me? For Christ's sake come and see me, Makar +Alexievitch! For Christ's sake come and see me soon! + + + +September 18th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today there took place in this +house a most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for +occurrence. First of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has +been entirely absolved of guilt. The decision has been long in +coming, but this morning he went to hear the final resolution +read. It was entirely in his favour. Any culpability which had +been imputed to him for negligence and irregularity was removed +by the resolution. Likewise, he was authorised to recover of the +merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he stands entirely +justified, and has had his character cleansed from all stain. In +short, he could not have wished for a more complete vindication. +When he arrived home at three o'clock he was looking as white as +a sheet, and his lips were quivering. Yet there was a smile on +his face as he embraced his wife and children. In a body the rest +of us ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by the +act. Bowing to us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I +thought, somehow, that he seemed to have grown taller and +straighter, and that the pus-drops seemed to have disappeared +from his eyelashes. Yet how agitated he was, poor fellow! He +could not rest quietly for two minutes together, but kept picking +up and then dropping whatsoever came to his hand, and bowing and +smiling without intermission, and sitting down and getting up, +and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what about +his honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did +talk--yes, and weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain +from tears; although Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage +Gorshkov) that honour mattered nothing when one had nothing to +eat, and that money was the chief thing in the world, and that +for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he slapped Gorshkov on +the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow seemed hurt at +this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw +Rataziaev a curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. +ONCE upon a time he would not have acted thus; but characters +differ. For example, I myself should have hesitated, at such a +season of rejoicing, to seem proud, even though excessive +deference and civility at such a moment might have been construed +as a lapse both of moral courage and of mental vigour. However, +this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov said was: "Yes, +money IS a good thing, glory be to God!" In fact, the whole time +that we remained in his room he kept repeating to himself: "Glory +be to God, glory be to God!" His wife ordered a richer and more +delicate meal than usual, and the landlady herself cooked it, for +at heart she is not a bad woman. But until the meal was served +Gorshkov could not remain still. He kept entering everyone's room +in turn (whether invited thither or not), and, seating himself +smilingly upon a chair, would sometimes say something, and +sometimes not utter a word, but get up and go out again. In the +naval officer's room he even took a pack of playing-cards into +his hand, and was thereupon invited to make a fourth in a game; +but after losing a few times, as well as making several blunders +in his play, he abandoned the pursuit. "No," said he, "that is +the sort of man that I am--that is all that I am good for," and +departed. Next, encountering myself in the corridor, he took my +hands in his, and gazed into my face with a rather curious air. +Then he pressed my hands again, and moved away still smiling, +smiling, but in an odd, weary sort of manner, much as a corpse +might smile. Meanwhile his wife was weeping for joy, and +everything in their room was decked in holiday guise. Presently +dinner was served, and after they had dined Gorshkov said to his +wife: "See now, dearest, I am going to rest a little while;" and +with that went to bed. Presently he called his little daughter to +his side, and, laying his hand upon the child's head, lay a long +while looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and asked +her: "What of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?" whereupon his wife +crossed herself, and replied: "Why, our Petinka is dead!" "Yes, +yes, I know--of course," said her husband. "Petinka is now in the +Kingdom of Heaven." This showed his wife that her husband was not +quite in his right senses--that the recent occurrence had upset +him; so she said: "My dearest, you must sleep awhile." "I will do +so," he replied, "--at once--I am rather--" And he turned over, +and lay silent for a time. Then again he turned round and tried +to say something, but his wife could not hear what it was. "What +do you say?" she inquired, but he made no reply. Then again she +waited a few moments until she thought to herself, "He has gone +to sleep," and departed to spend an hour with the landlady. At +the end of that hour she returned-- only to find that her husband +had not yet awoken, but was still lying motionless. "He is +sleeping very soundly," she reflected as she sat down and began +to work at something or other. Since then she has told us that +when half an hour or so had elapsed she fell into a reverie. +What she was thinking of she cannot remember, save that she had +forgotten altogether about her husband. Then she awoke with a +curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first thing that +struck her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at +the bed, she perceived her husband to be lying in the same +position as before. Thereupon she approached him, turned the +coverlet back, and saw that he was stiff and cold-- that he had +died suddenly, as though smitten with a stroke. But of what +precisely he died God only knows. The affair has so terribly +impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect my thoughts. It +would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so +simply--and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a +fate, what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and +panic-stricken, while his little daughter has run away somewhere +to hide herself. In their room, however, all is bustle and +confusion, for the doctors are about to make an autopsy on the +corpse. But I cannot tell you things for certain; I only know +that I am most grieved, most grieved. How sad to think that one +never knows what even a day, what even an hour, may bring forth! +One seems to die to so little purpose! .-Your own + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 19th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to let you know that +Rataziaev has found me some work to do for a certain writer--the +latter having submitted to him a large manuscript. Glory be to +God, for this means a large amount of work to do. Yet, though the +copy is wanted in haste, the original is so carelessly written +that I hardly know how to set about my task. Indeed, certain +parts of the manuscript are almost undecipherable. I have agreed +to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. You see therefore (and +this is my true reason for writing to you), that we shall soon be +receiving money from an extraneous source. Goodbye now, as I must +begin upon my labours.--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 23rd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have not written to you these +three days past for the reason that I have been so worried and +alarmed. + +Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me. At the time I was +alone, for Thedora had gone out somewhere. As soon as I opened +the door the sight of him so terrified me that I stood rooted to +the spot, and could feel myself turning pale. Entering with his +usual loud laugh, he took a chair, and sat down. For a long while +I could not collect my thoughts; I just sat where I was, and went +on with my work. Soon his smile faded, for my appearance seemed +somehow to have struck him. You see, of late I have grown thin, +and my eyes and cheeks have fallen in, and my face has become as +white as a sheet; so that anyone who knew me a year ago would +scarcely recognise me now. After a prolonged inspection, Bwikov +seemed to recover his spirits, for he said something to which I +duly replied. Then again he laughed. Thus he sat for a whole +hour- -talking to me the while, and asking me questions about one +thing and another. At length, just before he rose to depart, he +took me by the hand, and said (to quote his exact words): +"Between ourselves, Barbara Alexievna, that kinswoman of yours +and my good friend and acquaintance--I refer to Anna Thedorovna - +is a very bad woman " (he also added a grosser term of +opprobrium). "First of all she led your cousin astray, and then +she ruined yourself. I also have behaved like a villain, but such +is the way of the world." Again he laughed. Next, having remarked +that, though not a master of eloquence, he had always considered +that obligations of gentility obliged him to have with me a clear +and outspoken explanation, he went on to say that he sought my +hand in marriage; that he looked upon it as a duty to restore to +me my honour; that he could offer me riches; that, after +marriage, he would take me to his country seat in the Steppes, +where we would hunt hares; that he intended never to visit St. +Petersburg again, since everything there was horrible, and he had +to entertain a worthless nephew whom he had sworn to disinherit +in favour of a legal heir; and, finally, that it was to obtain +such a legal heir that he was seeking my hand in marriage. +Lastly, he remarked that I seemed to be living in very poor +circumstances (which was not surprising, said he, in view of the +kennel that I inhabited); that I should die if I remained a month +longer in that den; that all lodgings in St. Petersburg were +detestable; and that he would be glad to know if I was in want of +anything. + +So thunderstruck was I with the proposal that I could only burst +into tears. These tears he interpreted as a sign of gratitude, +for he told me that he had always felt assured of my good sense, +cleverness, and sensibility, but that hitherto he had hesitated +to take this step until he should have learned precisely how I +was getting on. Next he asked me some questions about YOU; saying +that he had heard of you as a man of good principle, and that +since he was unwilling to remain your debtor, would a sum of five +hundred roubles repay you for all you had done for me? To this I +replied that your services to myself had been such as could never +be requited with money; whereupon, he exclaimed that I was +talking rubbish and nonsense; that evidently I was still young +enough to read poetry; that romances of this kind were the +undoing of young girls, that books only corrupted morality, and +that, for his part, he could not abide them. "You ought to live +as long as I have done," he added, "and THEN you will see what +men can be." + +With that he requested me to give his proposal my favourable +consideration--saying that he would not like me to take such an +important step unguardedly, since want of thought and impetuosity +often spelt ruin to youthful inexperience, but that he hoped to +receive an answer in the affirmative. "Otherwise," said he, "I +shall have no choice but to marry a certain merchant's daughter +in Moscow, in order that I may keep my vow to deprive my nephew +of the inheritance.--Then he pressed five hundred roubles into my +hand--to buy myself some bonbons, as he phrased it--and wound up +by saying that in the country I should grow as fat as a doughnut +or a cheese rolled in butter; that at the present moment he was +extremely busy; and that, deeply engaged in business though he +had been all day, he had snatched the present opportunity of +paying me a visit. At length he departed. + +For a long time I sat plunged in reflection. Great though my +distress of mind was, I soon arrived at a decision.... My friend, +I am going to marry this man; I have no choice but to accept his +proposal. If anyone could save me from this squalor, and restore +to me my good name, and avert from me future poverty and want and +misfortune, he is the man to do it. What else have I to look for +from the future? What more am I to ask of fate? Thedora declares +that one need NEVER lose one's happiness; but what, I ask HER, +can be called happiness under such circumstances as mine? At all +events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing else +to be done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot +go on working forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am +worn to a shadow with grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly +by nature, I should merely be a burden upon other folks. Of +course this marriage will not bring me paradise, but what else +does there remain, my friend--what else does there remain? What +other choice is left? + +I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted +to think the matter over alone. However, the decision which you +have just read is unalterable, and I am about to announce it to +Bwikov himself, who in any case has pressed me for a speedy +reply, owing to the fact (so he says) that his business will not +wait nor allow him to remain here longer, and that therefore, no +trifle must be allowed to stand in its way. God alone knows +whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His holy, His +inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be +kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be +able to return that respect. What more could be looked for from +such a marriage? + +I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that +you will understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to +divert me from my intention, for all your efforts will be in +vain. Think for a moment; weigh in your heart for a moment all +that has led me to take this step. At first my anguish was +extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I know not. What +must be must be, and as God may send.... + +Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished. +Otherwise I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at +the door! ... + + + +September 23rd. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to reply to you--I hasten +to express to you my extreme astonishment. . . . In passing, I +may mention that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov. . . . + +Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly, and you have no choice but to accept +him. All things are in God's hands. This is so, and must always +be so; and the purposes of the Divine Creator are at once good +and inscrutable, as also is Fate, which is one with Him. . . . + +Thedora will share your happiness--for, of course, you will be +happy, and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! +But why should the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course--Monsieur +Bwikov's business affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see +to can afford to disregard such things. I got a glimpse of +Monsieur Bwikov as he was leaving your door. He is a fine-looking +man--a very fine-looking man; though that is not the point that I +should most have noticed had I been quite myself at the time. . . + +In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I +keep wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you +have said. To think that just when twenty pages of my copying are +completed THIS has happened! . . . I suppose you will be able to +make many purchases now--to buy shoes and dresses and all sorts +of things? Do you remember the shops in Gorokhovaia Street of +which I used to speak? . . . + +But no. You ought not to go out at present--you simply ought not +to, and shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many +things, and to, keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is +bad. Rain is descending in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking +kind of rain that--that you might catch cold from it, my darling, +and the chill might go to your heart. Why should your fear of +this man lead you to take such risks when all the time I am here +to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great happiness to be +awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman, and +evidently desires to ruin you. + +Shall you be at the all-night Mass this evening, dearest? I +should like to come and see you there. Yes, Bwikov spoke but the +truth when he said that you are a woman of virtue, wit, and good +feeling. Yet I think he would do far better to marry the +merchant's daughter. What think YOU about it? Yes, 'twould be far +better for him. As soon as it grows dark tonight I mean to come +and sit with you for an hour. Tonight twilight will close in +early, so I shall soon be with you. Yes, come what may, I mean to +see you for an hour. At present, I suppose, you are expecting +Bwikov, but I will come as soon as he has gone. So stay at home +until I have arrived, dearest. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 27th. + +DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, -Bwikov has just informed me that I must +have at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and +look for sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since +time presses. Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the +fuss which these fripperies are entailing, seeing that there +remain but five days before the wedding, and we are to depart on +the following day. He keeps rushing about and declaring that no +time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am terribly worried, and +scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is so much to do, and, +perhaps, so much that were better left undone! Moreover, I have +no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be purchased, +since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look like a +cook, but, on the contrary, she must "put the noses of the great +ladies out of joint." That is his expression. I wish, therefore, +that you would go to Madame Chiffon's, in Gorokhovaia Street, and +ask her, in the first place, to send me some sempstresses, and, +in the second place, to give herself the trouble of coming in +person, as I am too ill to go out. Our new flat is very cold, and +still in great disorder. Also, Bwikov has an aunt who is at her +last gasp through old age, and may die before our departure. He +himself, however, declares this to be nothing, and says that she +will soon recover. He is not yet living with me, and I have to go +running hither and thither to find him. Only Thedora is acting as +my servant, together with Bwikov's valet, who oversees +everything, but has been absent for the past three days. + +Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. +Yesterday he even had some trouble with the police because of his +thrashing the steward of these buildings. . . I have no one to +send with this letter so I am going to post it. . . Ah! I had +almost forgotten the most important point--which is that I should +like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon that I wish the blond lace +to be changed in conformity with yesterday's patterns, if she +will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment. Also say +that I have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to be +tamboured with crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used +with monograms on the various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not +smooth work. Do not forget that it is to be tambour. Another +thing I had almost forgotten, which is that the lappets of the +fur cloak must be raised, and the collar bound with lace. Please +tell her these things, Makar Alexievitch.--Your friend, + +B. D. + +P.S.--I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is +the third morning that you will have spent in running about for +my sake. But what else am I to do? The whole place is in +disorder, and I myself am ill. Do not be vexed with me, Makar +Alexievitch. I am feeling so depressed! What is going to become +of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old Makar Alexievitch? I dread to +look forward into the future. Somehow I feel apprehensive; I am +living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God's sake, forget none +of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make a mistake! +Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth. + + + +September 27th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have carefully fulfilled your +commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had +thought of using tambour work as being more suitable (though I +did not quite take in all she said). Also, she has informed me +that, since you have given certain directions in writing, she has +followed them (though again I do not clearly remember all that +she said--I only remember that she said a very great deal, for +she is a most tiresome old woman). These observations she will +soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I feel absolutely +exhausted, and have not been to the office today. . . + +Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I +would visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare +not look forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven +o'clock, you will have learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have +arrived in person to see you. Hope on, and everything will order +itself for the best. Of course, I am referring only to these +accursed gewgaws, to these frills and fripperies! Ah me, ah me, +how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes, how glad I shall +be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your abode. +Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that--Well, +things are as they are. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 28th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God's sake go to the +jeweller's, and tell him that, after all, he need not make the +pearl and emerald earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will +cost him too much, that they will burn a veritable hole in his +pocket. In fact, he has lost his temper again, and declares that +he is being robbed. Yesterday he added that, had he but known, +but foreseen, these expenses, he would never have married. Also, +he says that, as things are, he intends only to have a plain +wedding, and then to depart. "You must not look for any dancing +or festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are +still in the air." Such were his words. God knows I do not want +such things, but none the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made +him no answer on the subject, for he is a man all too easily +irritated. What, what is going to become of me? + +B. D. + + + +September 28th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--All is well as regards the +jeweller. Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have +fallen ill, and cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things +need to be done, I have gone and caught a chill, the devil take +it! Also I have to tell you that, to complete my misfortunes, his +Excellency has been pleased to become stricter. Today he railed +at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until the poor fellow was quite +put about. That is the sum of my news. + +No--there is something else concerning which I should like to +write to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a +simple, dull fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into +his head--Your friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 29th. + +MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who +informed me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the +following day to go away--for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a +post-chaise.... + +Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. +Also I have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia +Street. It is correct, but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so +out of humour with you? Nay, but you must be of good cheer, my +darling. I am so, and shall always be so, so long as you are +happy. I should have come to the church tomorrow, but, alas, +shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my loins. Also, I +would have written an account of the ceremony, but that there +will be no one to report to me the details. . . . + +Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You +have acted kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed +God will bless you. Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does +virtue ever fail to win the crown of divine justice, be it early +or be it late. Much else should I have liked to write to you. +Every hour, every minute I could occupy in writing. Indeed I +could write to you forever! Only your book, "The Stories of +Bielkin", is left to me. Do not deprive me of it, I pray you, but +suffer me to keep it. It is not so much because I wish to read +the book for its own sake, as because winter is coming on, when +the evenings will be long and dreary, and one will want to read +at least SOMETHING. + +Do you know, I am going to move from my present quarters into +your old ones, which I intend to rent from Thedora; for I could +never part with that good old woman. Moreover, she is such a +splendid worker. Yesterday I inspected your empty room in detail, +and inspected your embroidery-frame, with the work still hanging +on it. It had been left untouched in its corner. Next, I +inspected the work itself, of which there still remained a few +remnants, and saw that you had used one of my letters for a spool +upon which to wind your thread. Also, on the table I found a +scrap of paper which had written on it, "My dearest Makar +Alexievitch I hasten to--" that was all. Evidently, someone had +interrupted you at an interesting point. Lastly, behind a screen +there was your little bed. . . . Oh darling of darlings!!! . . . +Well, goodbye now, goodbye now, but for God's sake send me +something in answer to this letter! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +September 3Oth. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--All is over! The die is cast! What +my lot may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the +will of God. Tomorrow, then, we depart. For the last time, I take +my leave of you, my friend beyond price, my benefactor, my dear +one! Do not grieve for me, but try to live happily. Think of me +sometimes, and may the blessing of Almighty God light upon you! +For myself, I shall often have you in remembrance, and recall you +in my prayers. Thus our time together has come to an end. Little +comfort in my new life shall I derive from memories of the past. +The more, therefore, shall I cherish the recollection of you, and +the dearer will you ever be to my heart. Here, you have been my +only friend; here, you alone have loved me. Yes, I have seen all, +I have known all--I have throughout known how well you love me. A +single smile of mine, a single stroke from my pen, has been able +to make you happy. . . . But now you must forget me. . . . How +lonely you will be! Why should you stay here at all, kind, +inestimable, but solitary, friend of mine? + +To your care I entrust the book, the embroidery frame, and the +letter upon which I had begun. When you look upon the few words +which the letter contains you will be able mentally to read in +thought all that you would have liked further to hear or receive +from me--all that I would so gladly have written, but can never +now write. Think sometimes of your poor little Barbara who loved +you so well. All your letters I have left behind me in the top +drawer of Thedora's chest of drawers. . . You write that you are +ill, but Monsieur Bwikov will not let me leave the house today; +so that I can only write to you. Also, I will write again before +long. That is a promise. Yet God only knows when I shall be able +to do so. . . . + +Now we must bid one another forever farewell, my friend, my +beloved, my own! Yes, it must be forever! Ah, how at this moment +I could embrace you! Goodbye, dear friend--goodbye, goodbye! May +you ever rest well and happy! To the end I shall keep you in my +prayers. How my heart is aching under its load of sorrow! . . . +Monsieur Bwikov is just calling for me. . . .--Your ever loving + +B. + +P.S.--My heart is full! It is full to bursting of tears! Sorrow +has me in its grip, and is tearing me to pieces. Goodbye. My God, +what grief! Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara! + + + +BELOVED BARBARA--MY JEWEL, MY PRICELESS ONE,--You are now almost +en route, you are now just about to depart! Would that they had +torn my heart out of my breast rather than have taken you away +from me! How could you allow it? You weep, yet you go! And only +this moment I have received from you a letter stained with your +tears! It must be that you are departing unwillingly; it must be +that you are being abducted against your will; it must be that +you are sorry for me; it must be that--that you LOVE me! . . . + +Yet how will it fare with you now? Your heart will soon have +become chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon have +sucked away its life; grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, +you will die where you be, and be laid to rest in the cold, moist +earth where there is no one to bewail you. Monsieur Bwikov will +only be hunting hares! . . . + +Ah, my darling, my darling! WHY did you come to this decision? +How could you bring yourself to take such a step? What have you +done, have you done, have you done? Soon they will be carrying +you away to the tomb; soon your beauty will have become defiled, +my angel. Ah, dearest one, you are as weak as a feather. And +where have I been all this time? What have I been thinking of? I +have treated you merely as a forward child whose head was aching. +Fool that I was, I neither saw nor understood. I have behaved as +though, right or wrong, the matter was in no way my concern. Yes, +I have been running about after fripperies! . . . Ah, but I WILL +leave my bed. Tomorrow I WILL rise sound and well, and be once +more myself. . . . + +Dearest, I could throw myself under the wheels of a passing +vehicle rather than that you should go like this. By what right +is it being done? . . . I will go with you; I will run behind +your carriage if you will not take me--yes, I will run, and run +so long as the power is in me, and until my breath shall have +failed. Do you know whither you are going? Perhaps you will not +know, and will have to ask me? Before you there lie the Steppes, +my darling--only the Steppes, the naked Steppes, the Steppes that +are as bare as the palm of my hand. THERE there live only +heartless old women and rude peasants and drunkards. THERE the +trees have already shed their leaves. THERE there abide but rain +and cold. Why should you go thither? True, Monsieur Bwikov will +have his diversions in that country--he will be able to hunt the +hare; but what of yourself? Do you wish to become a mere estate +lady? Nay; look at yourself, my seraph of heaven. Are you in any +way fitted for such a role? How could you play it? To whom should +I write letters? To whom should I send these missives? Whom +should I call "my darling"? To whom should I apply that name of +endearment? Where, too, could I find you? + +When you are gone, Barbara, I shall die--for certain I shall die, +for my heart cannot bear this misery. I love you as I love the +light of God; I love you as my own daughter; to you I have +devoted my love in its entirety; only for you have I lived at +all; only because you were near me have I worked and copied +manuscripts and committed my views to paper under the guise of +friendly letters. + +Perhaps you did not know all this, but it has been so. How, then, +my beloved, could you bring yourself to leave me? Nay, you MUST +not go--it is impossible, it is sheerly, it is utterly, +impossible. The rain will fall upon you, and you are weak, and +will catch cold. The floods will stop your carriage. No sooner +will it have passed the city barriers than it will break down, +purposely break down. Here, in St. Petersburg, they are bad +builders of carriages. Yes, I know well these carriage-builders. +They are jerry-builders who can fashion a toy, but nothing that +is durable. Yes, I swear they can make nothing that is durable. . . . +All that I can do is to go upon my knees before Monsieur Bwikov, +and to tell him all, to tell him all. Do you also tell +him all, dearest, and reason with him. Tell him that you MUST +remain here, and must not go. Ah, why did he not marry that +merchant's daughter in Moscow? Let him go and marry her now. She +would suit him far better and for reasons which I well know. Then +I could keep you. For what is he to you, this Monsieur Bwikov? +Why has he suddenly become so dear to your heart? Is it because he +can buy you gewgaws? What are THEY? What use are THEY? They are +so much rubbish. One should consider human life rather than mere +finery. + +Nevertheless, as soon as I have received my next instalment of +salary I mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to buy it at a shop +with which I am acquainted. Only, you must wait until my next +installment is due, my angel of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To +think that you are going away into the Steppes with Monsieur +Bwikov--that you are going away never to return! . . . Nay, nay, +but you SHALL write to me. You SHALL write me a letter as soon as +you have started, even if it be your last letter of all, my +dearest. Yet will it be your last letter? How has it come about +so suddenly, so irrevocably, that this letter should be your +last? Nay, nay; I will write, and you shall write--yes, NOW, when +at length I am beginning to improve my style. Style? I do not +know what I am writing. I never do know what I am writing. I +could not possibly know, for I never read over what I have +written, nor correct its orthography. At the present moment, I am +writing merely for the sake of writing, and to put as much as +possible into this last letter of mine. . . . + +Ah, dearest, my pet, my own darling!... + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + diff --git a/old/2000-08-prflk10.zip b/old/2000-08-prflk10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8002111 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2000-08-prflk10.zip diff --git a/old/2302-h.htm.2020-07-17 b/old/2302-h.htm.2020-07-17 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c8bc8e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2302-h.htm.2020-07-17 @@ -0,0 +1,5793 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poor Folk + +Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translator: C. J. Hogarth + +Release Date: August, 2000 [EBook #2302] +Last Updated: October 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + POOR FOLK + </h1> + <h2> + By Fyodor Dostoyevsky + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by C. J. Hogarth + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> April 8th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> April 9th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> April 12th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> April 25th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> May 20th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> June 1st </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> June 11th </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> June 12th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> June 20th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> June 21st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> June 22nd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> June 25th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> June 26th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> June 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> June 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> July 1st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> July 7th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> July 8th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> July 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> July 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> July 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> July 29th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> August 1st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> August 2nd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> August 3rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> August 4th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> August 4th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> August 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> August 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> August 11th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> August 13th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> August 14th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> August 19th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> August 21st. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> September 3rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> September 5th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> September 9th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> September 10th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> September 11th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> September 15th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> September 18th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> September 19th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> September 23rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> September 23rd. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> September 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> September 27th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> September 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> September 28th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> September 29th. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> September 30th. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—How happy I was last night—how + immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your life + you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight o’clock I + awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like to sleep + for a short hour after my work is done)—I awoke, I say, and, + lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then + suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes—and felt my + very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had + understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner + of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the + cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your + dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me + from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of me. + Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face clearly! + For there was a time when you and I could see one another without any + difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved + one! At this very moment everything is standing awry to my eyes, for a man + needs only to work late overnight in his writing of something or other + for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, and the tears to be gushing from + them in a way that makes him ashamed to be seen before strangers. However, + I was able to picture to myself your beaming smile, my angel—your + kind, bright smile; and in my heart there lurked just such a feeling as on + the occasion when I first kissed you, my little Barbara. Do you remember + that, my darling? Yet somehow you seemed to be threatening me with your + tiny finger. Was it so, little wanton? You must write and tell me about it + in your next letter. + </p> + <p> + But what think you of the plan of the curtain, Barbara? It is a charming + one, is it not? No matter whether I be at work, or about to retire to + rest, or just awaking from sleep, it enables me to know that you are + thinking of me, and remembering me—that you are both well and happy. + Then when you lower the curtain, it means that it is time that I, Makar + Alexievitch, should go to bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it + means that you are saying to me, “Good morning,” and asking me how I am, + and whether I have slept well. “As for myself,” adds the curtain, “I am + altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!” Yes, my heart’s + delight, you see how easy a plan it was to devise, and how much writing it + will save us! It is a clever plan, is it not? And it was my own invention, + too! Am I not cunning in such matters, Barbara Alexievna? + </p> + <p> + Well, next let me tell you, dearest, that last night I slept better and + more soundly than I had ever hoped to do, and that I am the more delighted + at the fact in that, as you know, I had just settled into a new lodging—a + circumstance only too apt to keep one from sleeping! This morning, too, I + arose (joyous and full of love) at cockcrow. How good seemed everything at + that hour, my darling! When I opened my window I could see the sun + shining, and hear the birds singing, and smell the air laden with scents + of spring. In short, all nature was awaking to life again. Everything was + in consonance with my mood; everything seemed fair and spring-like. + Moreover, I had a fancy that I should fare well today. But my whole + thoughts were bent upon you. “Surely,” thought I, “we mortals who dwell in + pain and sorrow might with reason envy the birds of heaven which know not + either!” And my other thoughts were similar to these. In short, I gave + myself up to fantastic comparisons. A little book which I have says the + same kind of thing in a variety of ways. For instance, it says that one + may have many, many fancies, my Barbara—that as soon as the spring + comes on, one’s thoughts become uniformly pleasant and sportive and witty, + for the reason that, at that season, the mind inclines readily to + tenderness, and the world takes on a more roseate hue. From that little + book of mine I have culled the following passage, and written it down for + you to see. In particular does the author express a longing similar to my + own, where he writes: + </p> + <p> + “Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?” + </p> + <p> + And he has written much else, God bless him! + </p> + <p> + But tell me, my love—where did you go for your walk this morning? + Even before I had started for the office you had taken flight from your + room, and passed through the courtyard—yes, looking as vernal-like + as a bird in spring. What rapture it gave me to see you! Ah, little + Barbara, little Barbara, you must never give way to grief, for tears are + of no avail, nor sorrow. I know this well—I know it of my own + experience. So do you rest quietly until you have regained your health a + little. But how is our good Thedora? What a kind heart she has! You write + that she is now living with you, and that you are satisfied with what she + does. True, you say that she is inclined to grumble, but do not mind that, + Barbara. God bless her, for she is an excellent soul! + </p> + <p> + But what sort of an abode have I lighted upon, Barbara Alexievna? What + sort of a tenement, do you think, is this? Formerly, as you know, I used + to live in absolute stillness—so much so that if a fly took wing it + could plainly be heard buzzing. Here, however, all is turmoil and shouting + and clatter. The PLAN of the tenement you know already. Imagine a long + corridor, quite dark, and by no means clean. To the right a dead wall, and + to the left a row of doors stretching as far as the line of rooms extends. + These rooms are tenanted by different people—by one, by two, or by + three lodgers as the case may be, but in this arrangement there is no sort + of system, and the place is a perfect Noah’s Ark. Most of the lodgers are + respectable, educated, and even bookish people. In particular they include + a tchinovnik (one of the literary staff in some government department), + who is so well-read that he can expound Homer or any other author—in + fact, ANYTHING, such a man of talent is he! Also, there are a couple of + officers (for ever playing cards), a midshipman, and an English tutor. + But, to amuse you, dearest, let me describe these people more + categorically in my next letter, and tell you in detail about their lives. + As for our landlady, she is a dirty little old woman who always walks + about in a dressing-gown and slippers, and never ceases to shout at + Theresa. I myself live in the kitchen—or, rather, in a small room + which forms part of the kitchen. The latter is a very large, bright, + clean, cheerful apartment with three windows in it, and a partition-wall + which, running outwards from the front wall, makes a sort of little den, a + sort of extra room, for myself. Everything in this den is comfortable and + convenient, and I have, as I say, a window to myself. So much for a + description of my dwelling-place. Do not think, dearest, that in all this + there is any hidden intention. The fact that I live in the kitchen merely + means that I live behind the partition wall in that apartment—that I + live quite alone, and spend my time in a quiet fashion compounded of + trifles. For furniture I have provided myself with a bed, a table, a chest + of drawers, and two small chairs. Also, I have suspended an ikon. True, + better rooms MAY exist in the world than this—much better rooms; yet + COMFORT is the chief thing. In fact, I have made all my arrangements for + comfort’s sake alone; so do not for a moment imagine that I had any other + end in view. And since your window happens to be just opposite to mine, + and since the courtyard between us is narrow and I can see you as you + pass,—why, the result is that this miserable wretch will be able to + live at once more happily and with less outlay. The dearest room in this + house costs, with board, thirty-five roubles—more than my purse + could well afford; whereas MY room costs only twenty-four, though formerly + I used to pay thirty, and so had to deny myself many things (I could drink + tea but seldom, and never could indulge in tea and sugar as I do now). + But, somehow, I do not like having to go without tea, for everyone else + here is respectable, and the fact makes me ashamed. After all, one drinks + tea largely to please one’s fellow men, Barbara, and to give oneself tone + and an air of gentility (though, of myself, I care little about such + things, for I am not a man of the finicking sort). Yet think you that, + when all things needful—boots and the rest—have been paid for, + much will remain? Yet I ought not to grumble at my salary,—I am + quite satisfied with it; it is sufficient. It has sufficed me now for some + years, and, in addition, I receive certain gratuities. + </p> + <p> + Well good-bye, my darling. I have bought you two little pots of geraniums—quite + cheap little pots, too—as a present. Perhaps you would also like + some mignonette? Mignonette it shall be if only you will write to inform + me of everything in detail. Also, do not misunderstand the fact that I + have taken this room, my dearest. Convenience and nothing else, has made + me do so. The snugness of the place has caught my fancy. Also, I shall be + able to save money here, and to hoard it against the future. Already I + have saved a little money as a beginning. Nor must you despise me because + I am such an insignificant old fellow that a fly could break me with its + wing. True, I am not a swashbuckler; but perhaps there may also abide in + me the spirit which should pertain to every man who is at once resigned + and sure of himself. Good-bye, then, again, my angel. I have now covered + close upon a whole two sheets of notepaper, though I ought long ago to + have been starting for the office. I kiss your hands, and remain ever your + devoted slave, your faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—One thing I beg of you above all things—and that is, that + you will answer this letter as FULLY as possible. With the letter I send + you a packet of bonbons. Eat them for your health’s sake, nor, for the + love of God, feel any uneasiness about me. Once more, dearest one, + good-bye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Do you know, I must quarrel with you. + Yes, good Makar Alexievitch, I really cannot accept your presents, for I + know what they must have cost you—I know to what privations and + self-denial they must have led. How many times have I not told you that I + stand in need of NOTHING, of absolutely NOTHING, as well as that I shall + never be in a position to recompense you for all the kindly acts with + which you have loaded me? Why, for instance, have you sent me geraniums? A + little sprig of balsam would not have mattered so much—but + geraniums! Only have I to let fall an unguarded word—for example, + about geraniums—and at once you buy me some! How much they must have + cost you! Yet what a charm there is in them, with their flaming petals! + Wherever did you get these beautiful plants? I have set them in my window + as the most conspicuous place possible, while on the floor I have placed a + bench for my other flowers to stand on (since you are good enough to + enrich me with such presents). Unfortunately, Thedora, who, with her + sweeping and polishing, makes a perfect sanctuary of my room, is not + over-pleased at the arrangement. But why have you sent me also bonbons? + Your letter tells me that something special is afoot with you, for I find + in it so much about paradise and spring and sweet odours and the songs of + birds. Surely, thought I to myself when I received it, this is as good as + poetry! Indeed, verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, Makar + Alexievitch. And what tender feelings I can read in it—what + roseate-coloured fancies! To the curtain, however, I had never given a + thought. The fact is that when I moved the flower-pots, it LOOPED ITSELF + up. There now! + </p> + <p> + Ah, Makar Alexievitch, you neither speak of nor give any account of what + you have spent upon me. You hope thereby to deceive me, to make it seem as + though the cost always falls upon you alone, and that there is nothing to + conceal. Yet I KNOW that for my sake you deny yourself necessaries. For + instance, what has made you go and take the room which you have done, + where you will be worried and disturbed, and where you have neither + elbow-space nor comfort—you who love solitude, and never like to + have any one near you? To judge from your salary, I should think that you + might well live in greater ease than that. Also, Thedora tells me that + your circumstances used to be much more affluent than they are at present. + Do you wish, then, to persuade me that your whole existence has been + passed in loneliness and want and gloom, with never a cheering word to + help you, nor a seat in a friend’s chimney-corner? Ah, kind comrade, how + my heart aches for you! But do not overtask your health, Makar + Alexievitch. For instance, you say that your eyes are over-weak for you to + go on writing in your office by candle-light. Then why do so? I am sure + that your official superiors do not need to be convinced of your + diligence! + </p> + <p> + Once more I implore you not to waste so much money upon me. I know how + much you love me, but I also know that you are not rich.... This morning I + too rose in good spirits. Thedora had long been at work; and it was time + that I too should bestir myself. Indeed I was yearning to do so, so I went + out for some silk, and then sat down to my labours. All the morning I felt + light-hearted and cheerful. Yet now my thoughts are once more dark and sad—once + more my heart is ready to sink. + </p> + <p> + Ah, what is going to become of me? What will be my fate? To have to be so + uncertain as to the future, to have to be unable to foretell what is going + to happen, distresses me deeply. Even to look back at the past is + horrible, for it contains sorrow that breaks my very heart at the thought + of it. Yes, a whole century in tears could I spend because of the wicked + people who have wrecked my life! + </p> + <p> + But dusk is coming on, and I must set to work again. Much else should I + have liked to write to you, but time is lacking, and I must hasten. Of + course, to write this letter is a pleasure enough, and could never be + wearisome; but why do you not come to see me in person? Why do you not, + Makar Alexievitch? You live so close to me, and at least SOME of your time + is your own. I pray you, come. I have just seen Theresa. She was looking + so ill, and I felt so sorry for her, that I gave her twenty kopecks. I am + almost falling asleep. Write to me in fullest detail, both concerning your + mode of life, and concerning the people who live with you, and concerning + how you fare with them. I should so like to know! Yes, you must write + again. Tonight I have purposely looped the curtain up. Go to bed early, + for, last night, I saw your candle burning until nearly midnight. Goodbye! + I am now feeling sad and weary. Ah that I should have to spend such days + as this one has been. Again good-bye.—Your friend, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 8th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—To think that a day like this should + have fallen to my miserable lot! Surely you are making fun of an old + man?... However, it was my own fault—my own fault entirely. One + ought not to grow old holding a lock of Cupid’s hair in one’s hand. + Naturally one is misunderstood.... Yet man is sometimes a very strange + being. By all the Saints, he will talk of doing things, yet leave them + undone, and remain looking the kind of fool from whom may the Lord + preserve us!... Nay, I am not angry, my beloved; I am only vexed to think + that I should have written to you in such stupid, flowery phraseology. + Today I went hopping and skipping to the office, for my heart was under + your influence, and my soul was keeping holiday, as it were. Yes, + everything seemed to be going well with me. Then I betook myself to my + work. But with what result? I gazed around at the old familiar objects, at + the old familiar grey and gloomy objects. They looked just the same as + before. Yet WERE those the same inkstains, the same tables and chairs, + that I had hitherto known? Yes, they WERE the same, exactly the same; so + why should I have gone off riding on Pegasus’ back? Whence had that mood + arisen? It had arisen from the fact that a certain sun had beamed upon me, + and turned the sky to blue. But why so? Why is it, sometimes, that sweet + odours seem to be blowing through a courtyard where nothing of the sort + can be? They must be born of my foolish fancy, for a man may stray so far + into sentiment as to forget his immediate surroundings, and to give way to + the superfluity of fond ardour with which his heart is charged. On the + other hand, as I walked home from the office at nightfall my feet seemed + to lag, and my head to be aching. Also, a cold wind seemed to be blowing + down my back (enraptured with the spring, I had gone out clad only in a + thin overcoat). Yet you have misunderstood my sentiments, dearest. They + are altogether different to what you suppose. It is a purely paternal + feeling that I have for you. I stand towards you in the position of a + relative who is bound to watch over your lonely orphanhood. This I say in + all sincerity, and with a single purpose, as any kinsman might do. For, + after all, I AM a distant kinsman of yours—the seventh drop of water + in the pudding, as the proverb has it—yet still a kinsman, and at + the present time your nearest relative and protector, seeing that where + you had the right to look for help and protection, you found only + treachery and insult. As for poetry, I may say that I consider it + unbecoming for a man of my years to devote his faculties to the making of + verses. Poetry is rubbish. Even boys at school ought to be whipped for + writing it. + </p> + <p> + Why do you write thus about “comfort” and “peace” and the rest? I am not a + fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I been so + comfortable as now. Why, then, should I complain in my old age? I have + enough to eat, I am well dressed and booted. Also, I have my diversions. + You see, I am not of noble blood. My father himself was not a gentleman; + he and his family had to live even more plainly than I do. Nor am I a + milksop. Nevertheless, to speak frankly, I do not like my present abode so + much as I used to like my old one. Somehow the latter seemed more cosy, + dearest. Of course, this room is a good one enough; in fact, in SOME + respects it is the more cheerful and interesting of the two. I have + nothing to say against it—no. Yet I miss the room that used to be so + familiar to me. Old lodgers like myself soon grow as attached to our + chattels as to a kinsman. My old room was such a snug little place! True, + its walls resembled those of any other room—I am not speaking of + that; the point is that the recollection of them seems to haunt my mind + with sadness. Curious that recollections should be so mournful! Even what + in that room used to vex me and inconvenience me now looms in a purified + light, and figures in my imagination as a thing to be desired. We used to + live there so quietly—I and an old landlady who is now dead. How my + heart aches to remember her, for she was a good woman, and never + overcharged for her rooms. Her whole time was spent in making patchwork + quilts with knitting-needles that were an arshin [An ell.] long. + Oftentimes we shared the same candle and board. Also she had a + granddaughter, Masha—a girl who was then a mere baby, but must now + be a girl of thirteen. This little piece of mischief, how she used to make + us laugh the day long! We lived together, a happy family of three. Often + of a long winter’s evening we would first have tea at the big round table, + and then betake ourselves to our work; the while that, to amuse the child + and to keep her out of mischief, the old lady would set herself to tell + stories. What stories they were!—though stories less suitable for a + child than for a grown-up, educated person. My word! Why, I myself have + sat listening to them, as I smoked my pipe, until I have forgotten about + work altogether. And then, as the story grew grimmer, the little child, + our little bag of mischief, would grow thoughtful in proportion, and clasp + her rosy cheeks in her tiny hands, and, hiding her face, press closer to + the old landlady. Ah, how I loved to see her at those moments! As one + gazed at her one would fail to notice how the candle was flickering, or + how the storm was swishing the snow about the courtyard. Yes, that was a + goodly life, my Barbara, and we lived it for nearly twenty years.... How + my tongue does carry me away! Maybe the subject does not interest you, and + I myself find it a not over-easy subject to recall—especially at the + present time. + Darkness is falling, and Theresa is busying herself with something or + another. My head and my back are aching, and even my thoughts seem to be + in pain, so strangely do they occur. Yes, my heart is sad today, + Barbara.... What is it you have written to me?——“Why do you + not come in PERSON to see me?” Dear one, what would people say? I should + have but to cross the courtyard for people to begin noticing us, and + asking themselves questions. Gossip and scandal would arise, and there + would be read into the affair quite another meaning than the real one. No, + little angel, it were better that I should see you tomorrow at Vespers. + That will be the better plan, and less hurtful to us both. Nor must you + chide me, beloved, because I have written you a letter like this (reading + it through, I see it to be all odds and ends); for I am an old man now, + dear Barbara, and an uneducated one. Little learning had I in my youth, + and things refuse to fix themselves in my brain when I try to learn them + anew. No, I am not skilled in letter-writing, Barbara, and, without being + told so, or any one laughing at me for it, I know that, whenever I try to + describe anything with more than ordinary distinctness, I fall into the + mistake of talking sheer rubbish.... I saw you at your window today—yes, + I saw you as you were drawing down the blind! Good-bye, goodbye, little + Barbara, and may God keep you! Good-bye, my own Barbara Alexievna!—Your + sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Do not think that I could write to you in a satirical vein, for + I am too old to show my teeth to no purpose, and people would laugh at me, + and quote our Russian proverb: “Who diggeth a pit for another one, the + same shall fall into it himself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 9th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Are not you, my friend and benefactor, + just a little ashamed to repine and give way to such despondency? And + surely you are not offended with me? Ah! Though often thoughtless in my + speech, I never should have imagined that you would take my words as a + jest at your expense. Rest assured that NEVER should I make sport of your + years or of your character. Only my own levity is at fault; still more, + the fact that I am so weary of life. + </p> + <p> + What will such a feeling not engender? To tell you the truth, I had + supposed that YOU were jesting in your letter; wherefore, my heart was + feeling heavy at the thought that you could feel so displeased with me. + Kind comrade and helper, you will be doing me an injustice if for a single + moment you ever suspect that I am lacking in feeling or in gratitude + towards you. My heart, believe me, is able to appraise at its true worth + all that you have done for me by protecting me from my enemies, and from + hatred and persecution. Never shall I cease to pray to God for you; and, + should my prayers ever reach Him and be received of Heaven, then assuredly + fortune will smile upon you! + </p> + <p> + Today I am not well. By turns I shiver and flush with heat, and Thedora is + greatly disturbed about me.... Do not scruple to come and see me, Makar + Alexievitch. How can it concern other people what you do? You and I are + well enough acquainted with each other, and one’s own affairs are one’s + own affairs. Goodbye, Makar Alexievitch, for I have come to the end of all + I had to say, and am feeling too unwell to write more. Again I beg of you + not to be angry with me, but to rest assured of my constant respect and + attachment.—Your humble, devoted servant, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 12th + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST MISTRESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I pray you, my beloved, to tell + me what ails you. Every one of your letters fills me with alarm. On the + other hand, in every letter I urge you to be more careful of yourself, and + to wrap up yourself warmly, and to avoid going out in bad weather, and to + be in all things prudent. Yet you go and disobey me! Ah, little angel, you + are a perfect child! I know well that you are as weak as a blade of grass, + and that, no matter what wind blows upon you, you are ready to fade. But + you must be careful of yourself, dearest; you MUST look after yourself + better; you MUST avoid all risks, lest you plunge your friends into + desolation and despair. + </p> + <p> + Dearest, you also express a wish to learn the details of my daily life and + surroundings. That wish I hasten to satisfy. Let me begin at the + beginning, since, by doing so, I shall explain things more systematically. + In the first place, on entering this house, one passes into a very bare + hall, and thence along a passage to a mean staircase. The reception room, + however, is bright, clean, and spacious, and is lined with redwood and + metal-work. But the scullery you would not care to see; it is greasy, + dirty, and odoriferous, while the stairs are in rags, and the walls so + covered with filth that the hand sticks fast wherever it touches them. + Also, on each landing there is a medley of boxes, chairs, and dilapidated + wardrobes; while the windows have had most of their panes shattered, and + everywhere stand washtubs filled with dirt, litter, eggshells, and + fish-bladders. The smell is abominable. In short, the house is not a nice + one. + </p> + <p> + As to the disposition of the rooms, I have described it to you already. + True, they are convenient enough, yet every one of them has an ATMOSPHERE. + I do not mean that they smell badly so much as that each of them seems to + contain something which gives forth a rank, sickly-sweet odour. At first + the impression is an unpleasant one, but a couple of minutes will suffice + to dissipate it, for the reason that EVERYTHING here smells—people’s + clothes, hands, and everything else—and one grows accustomed to the + rankness. Canaries, however, soon die in this house. A naval officer here + has just bought his fifth. Birds cannot live long in such an air. Every + morning, when fish or beef is being cooked, and washing and scrubbing are + in progress, the house is filled with steam. Always, too, the kitchen is + full of linen hanging out to dry; and since my room adjoins that + apartment, the smell from the clothes causes me not a little annoyance. + However, one can grow used to anything. + </p> + <p> + From earliest dawn the house is astir as its inmates rise, walk about, and + stamp their feet. That is to say, everyone who has to go to work then gets + out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken of. Most of the tea-urns belong + to the landlady; and since there are not very many of them, we have to + wait our turn. Anyone who fails to do so will find his teapot emptied and + put away. On the first occasion, that was what happened to myself. Well, + is there anything else to tell you? Already I have made the acquaintance + of the company here. The naval officer took the initiative in calling upon + me, and his frankness was such that he told me all about his father, his + mother, his sister (who is married to a lawyer of Tula), and the town of + Kronstadt. Also, he promised me his patronage, and asked me to come and + take tea with him. I kept the appointment in a room where card-playing is + continually in progress; and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made + to induce me to gamble. Whether or not my refusal seemed to the company + ridiculous I cannot say, but at all events my companions played the whole + evening, and were playing when I left. The dust and smoke in the room made + my eyes ache. I declined, as I say, to play cards, and was, therefore, + requested to discourse on philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at + all—a result which I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of + going there again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but + gambling. Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his room—though, + in his case, everything is done delicately and with a certain refinement, + so that the thing has something of a retiring and innocent air. + </p> + <p> + In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman. In fact, + she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so what do you think of + her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in consumption, and, with + Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the entire staff of the establishment. + Whether or not Phaldoni has any other name I do not know, but at least he + answers to this one, and every one calls him by it. A red-haired, + swine-jowled, snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever wrangling with + Theresa, until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, life is not overly + pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the household wholly at rest, + for always there are people sitting up to play cards. Sometimes, too, + certain things are done of which it would be shameful for me to speak. In + particular, hardened though I am, it astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES + should care to live in this Sodom. For example, there is a family of poor + folk who have rented from the landlady a room which does not adjoin the + other rooms, but is set apart in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet people + they are! Not a sound is to be heard from them. The father—he is + called Gorshkov—is a little grey-headed tchinovnik who, seven years + ago, was dismissed from public service, and now walks about in a coat so + dirty and ragged that it hurts one to see it. Indeed it is a worse coat + even than mine! Also, he is so thin and frail (at times I meet him in the + corridor) that his knees quake under him, his hands and head are tremulous + with some disease (God only knows what!), and he so fears and distrusts + everybody that he always walks alone. Reserved though I myself am, he is + even worse. As for his family, it consists of a wife and three children. + The eldest of the latter—a boy—is as frail as his father, + while the mother—a woman who, formerly, must have been good looking, + and still has a striking aspect in spite of her pallor—goes about in + the sorriest of rags. Also I have heard that they are in debt to our + landlady, as well as that she is not overly kind to them. Moreover, I have + heard that Gorshkov lost his post through some unpleasantness or other—through + a legal suit or process of which I could not exactly tell you the nature. + Yes, they certainly are poor—Oh, my God, how poor! At the same time, + never a sound comes from their room. It is as though not a soul were + living in it. Never does one hear even the children—which is an + unusual thing, seeing that children are ever ready to sport and play, and + if they fail to do so it is a bad sign. One evening when I chanced to be + passing the door of their room, and all was quiet in the house, I heard + through the door a sob, and then a whisper, and then another sob, as + though somebody within were weeping, and with such subdued bitterness that + it tore my heart to hear the sound. In fact, the thought of these poor + people never left me all night, and quite prevented me from sleeping. + </p> + <p> + Well, good-bye, my little Barbara, my little friend beyond price. I have + described to you everything to the best of my ability. All today you have + been in my thoughts; all today my heart has been yearning for you. I + happen to know, dearest one, that you lack a warm cloak. To me too, these + St. Petersburg springs, with their winds and their snow showers, spell + death. Good heavens, how the breezes bite one! Do not be angry, beloved, + that I should write like this. Style I have not. Would that I had! I write + just what wanders into my brain, in the hope that I may cheer you up a + little. Of course, had I had a good education, things might have been + different; but, as things were, I could not have one. Never did I learn + even to do simple sums!—Your faithful and unchangeable friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 25th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Today I met my cousin Sasha. To see + her going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly. Moreover, it has reached + me, through a side wind, that she has been making inquiry for me, and + dogging my footsteps, under the pretext that she wishes to pardon me, to + forget the past, and to renew our acquaintance. Well, among other things + she told me that, whereas you are not a kinsman of mine, that she is my + nearest relative; that you have no right whatever to enter into family + relations with us; and that it is wrong and shameful for me to be living + upon your earnings and charity. Also, she said that I must have forgotten + all that she did for me, though thereby she saved both myself and my + mother from starvation, and gave us food and drink; that for two and a + half years we caused her great loss; and, above all things, that she + excused us what we owed her. Even my poor mother she did not spare. Would + that she, my dead parent, could know how I am being treated! But God knows + all about it.... Also, Anna declared that it was solely through my own + fault that my fortunes declined after she had bettered them; that she is + in no way responsible for what then happened; and that I have but myself + to blame for having been either unable or unwilling to defend my honour. + Great God! WHO, then, has been at fault? According to Anna, Hospodin [Mr.] + Bwikov was only right when he declined to marry a woman who—But need + I say it? It is cruel to hear such lies as hers. What is to become of me I + do not know. I tremble and sob and weep. Indeed, even to write this letter + has cost me two hours. At least it might have been thought that Anna would + have confessed HER share in the past. Yet see what she says!... For the + love of God do not be anxious about me, my friend, my only benefactor. + Thedora is over apt to exaggerate matters. I am not REALLY ill. I have + merely caught a little cold. I caught it last night while I was walking to + Bolkovo, to hear Mass sung for my mother. Ah, mother, my poor mother! + Could you but rise from the grave and learn what is being done to your + daughter! + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + May 20th + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,—I am sending you a few grapes, which are + good for a convalescent person, and strongly recommended by doctors for + the allayment of fever. Also, you were saying the other day that you would + like some roses; wherefore, I now send you a bunch. Are you at all able to + eat, my darling?—for that is the chief point which ought to be seen + to. Let us thank God that the past and all its unhappiness are gone! Yes, + let us give thanks to Heaven for that much! As for books, I cannot get + hold of any, except for a book which, written in excellent style, is, I + believe, to be had here. At all events, people keep praising it very much, + and I have begged the loan of it for myself. Should you too like to read + it? In this respect, indeed, I feel nervous, for the reason that it is so + difficult to divine what your taste in books may be, despite my knowledge + of your character. Probably you would like poetry—the poetry of + sentiment and of love making? Well, I will send you a book of MY OWN + poems. Already I have copied out part of the manuscript. + </p> + <p> + Everything with me is going well; so pray do not be anxious on my account, + beloved. What Thedora told you about me was sheer rubbish. Tell her from + me that she has not been speaking the truth. Yes, do not fail to give this + mischief-maker my message. It is not the case that I have gone and sold a + new uniform. Why should I do so, seeing that I have forty roubles of + salary still to come to me? Do not be uneasy, my darling. Thedora is a + vindictive woman—merely a vindictive woman. We shall yet see better + days. Only do you get well, my angel—only do you get well, for the + love of God, lest you grieve an old man. Also, who told you that I was + looking thin? Slanders again—nothing but slanders! I am as healthy + as could be, and have grown so fat that I am ashamed to be so sleek of + paunch. Would that you were equally healthy!... Now goodbye, my angel. I + kiss every one of your tiny fingers, and remain ever your constant friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—But what is this, dearest one, that you have written to me? Why + do you place me upon such a pedestal? Moreover, how could I come and visit + you frequently? How, I repeat? Of course, I might avail myself of the + cover of night; but, alas! the season of the year is what it is, and + includes no night time to speak of. In fact, although, throughout your + illness and delirium, I scarcely left your side for a moment, I cannot + think how I contrived to do the many things that I did. Later, I ceased to + visit you at all, for the reason that people were beginning to notice + things, and to ask me questions. Yet, even so, a scandal has arisen. + Theresa I trust thoroughly, for she is not a talkative woman; but consider + how it will be when the truth comes out in its entirety! What THEN will + folk not say and think? Nevertheless, be of good cheer, my beloved, and + regain your health. When you have done so we will contrive to arrange a + rendezvous out of doors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 1st + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—So eager am I to do something that + will please and divert you in return for your care, for your ceaseless + efforts on my behalf—in short, for your love for me—that I + have decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving into my locker, + and extracting thence the manuscript which I send you herewith. I began it + during the happier period of my life, and have continued it at intervals + since. So often have you asked me about my former existence—about my + mother, about Pokrovski, about my sojourn with Anna Thedorovna, about my + more recent misfortunes; so often have you expressed an earnest desire to + read the manuscript in which (God knows why) I have recorded certain + incidents of my life, that I feel no doubt but that the sending of it will + give you sincere pleasure. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read it, + for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned its + concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am—how this + insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! + </p> + <p> + B. D. ONE + </p> + <p> + UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the + happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here in the depths + of the province of Tula, where my father filled the position of steward on + the vast estates of the Prince P——. Our house was situated in + one of the Prince’s villages, and we lived a quiet, obscure, but happy, + life. A gay little child was I—my one idea being ceaselessly to run + about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a + thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and my + mother with her housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any lessons—a + circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I would hie me to + a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where the sun could + warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my hands with + bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get blamed + afterwards, but I did not care. + </p> + <p> + Had it befallen me never to quit that village—had it befallen me to + remain for ever in that spot—I should always have been happy; but + fate ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before my girlhood + had come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years old when we removed + to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to recall the mournful gatherings + before our departure, and to recall how bitterly I wept when the time came + for us to say farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember throwing + myself upon my father’s neck, and beseeching him with tears to stay in the + country a little longer; but he bid me be silent, and my mother, adding + her tears to mine, explained that business matters compelled us to go. As + a matter of fact, old Prince P—— had just died, and his heirs + had dismissed my father from his post; whereupon, since he had a little + money privately invested in St. Petersburg, he bethought him that his + personal presence in the capital was necessary for the due management of + his affairs. It was my mother who told me this. Consequently we settled + here in St. Petersburg, and did not again move until my father died. + </p> + <p> + How difficult I found it to grow accustomed to my new life! At the time of + our removal to St. Petersburg it was autumn—a season when, in the + country, the weather is clear and keen and bright, all agricultural labour + has come to an end, the great sheaves of corn are safely garnered in the + byre, and the birds are flying hither and thither in clamorous flocks. + Yes, at that season the country is joyous and fair, but here in St. + Petersburg, at the time when we reached the city, we encountered nothing + but rain, bitter autumn frosts, dull skies, ugliness, and crowds of + strangers who looked hostile, discontented, and disposed to take offence. + However, we managed to settle down—though I remember that in our new + home there was much noise and confusion as we set the establishment in + order. After this my father was seldom at home, and my mother had few + spare moments; wherefore, I found myself forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The first morning after our arrival, when I awoke from sleep, how sad I + felt! I could see that our windows looked out upon a drab space of wall, + and that the street below was littered with filth. Passers-by were few, + and as they walked they kept muffling themselves up against the cold. + </p> + <p> + Then there ensued days when dullness and depression reigned supreme. + Scarcely a relative or an acquaintance did we possess in St. Petersburg, + and even Anna Thedorovna and my father had come to loggerheads with one + another, owing to the fact that he owed her money. In fact, our only + visitors were business callers, and as a rule these came but to wrangle, + to argue, and to raise a disturbance. Such visits would make my father + look very discontented, and seem out of temper. For hours and hours he + would pace the room with a frown on his face and a brooding silence on his + lips. Even my mother did not dare address him at these times, while, for + my own part, I used to sit reading quietly and humbly in a corner—not + venturing to make a movement of any sort. + </p> + <p> + Three months after our arrival in St. Petersburg I was sent to a + boarding-school. Here I found myself thrown among strange people; here + everything was grim and uninviting, with teachers continually shouting at + me, and my fellow-pupils for ever holding me up to derision, and myself + constantly feeling awkward and uncouth. How strict, how exacting was the + system! Appointed hours for everything, a common table, ever-insistent + teachers! These things simply worried and tortured me. Never from the + first could I sleep, but used to weep many a chill, weary night away. In + the evenings everyone would have to repeat or to learn her lessons. As I + crouched over a dialogue or a vocabulary, without daring even to stir, how + my thoughts would turn to the chimney-corner at home, to my father, to my + mother, to my old nurse, to the tales which the latter had been used to + tell! How sad it all was! The memory of the merest trifle at home would + please me, and I would think and think how nice things used to be at home. + Once more I would be sitting in our little parlour at tea with my parents—in + the familiar little parlour where everything was snug and warm! How + ardently, how convulsively I would seem to be embracing my mother! Thus I + would ponder, until at length tears of sorrow would softly gush forth and + choke my bosom, and drive the lessons out of my head. For I never could + master the tasks of the morrow; no matter how much my mistress and + fellow-pupils might gird at me, no matter how much I might repeat my + lessons over and over to myself, knowledge never came with the morning. + Consequently, I used to be ordered the kneeling punishment, and given only + one meal in the day. How dull and dispirited I used to feel! From the + first my fellow-pupils used to tease and deride and mock me whenever I was + saying my lessons. Also, they used to pinch me as we were on our way to + dinner or tea, and to make groundless complaints of me to the head + mistress. On the other hand, how heavenly it seemed when, on Saturday + evening, my old nurse arrived to fetch me! How I would embrace the old + woman in transports of joy! After dressing me, and wrapping me up, she + would find that she could scarcely keep pace with me on the way home, so + full was I of chatter and tales about one thing and another. Then, when I + had arrived home merry and lighthearted, how fervently I would embrace my + parents, as though I had not seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would + there be—such a talking and a telling of tales! To everyone I would + run with a greeting, and laugh, and giggle, and scamper about, and skip + for very joy. True, my father and I used to have grave conversations about + lessons and teachers and the French language and grammar; yet we were all + very happy and contented together. Even now it thrills me to think of + those moments. For my father’s sake I tried hard to learn my lessons, for + I could see that he was spending his last kopeck upon me, and himself + subsisting God knows how. Every day he grew more morose and discontented + and irritable; every day his character kept changing for the worse. He had + suffered an influx of debts, nor were his business affairs prospering. As + for my mother, she was afraid even to say a word, or to weep aloud, for + fear of still further angering him. Gradually she sickened, grew thinner + and thinner, and became taken with a painful cough. Whenever I reached + home from school I would find every one low-spirited, and my mother + shedding silent tears, and my father raging. Bickering and high words + would arise, during which my father was wont to declare that, though he no + longer derived the smallest pleasure or relaxation from life, and had + spent his last coin upon my education, I had not yet mastered the French + language. In short, everything began to go wrong, to turn to unhappiness; + and for that circumstance, my father took vengeance upon myself and my + mother. How he could treat my poor mother so I cannot understand. It used + to rend my heart to see her, so hollow were her cheeks becoming, so sunken + her eyes, so hectic her face. But it was chiefly around myself that the + disputes raged. Though beginning only with some trifle, they would soon go + on to God knows what. Frequently, even I myself did not know to what they + related. Anything and everything would enter into them, for my father + would say that I was an utter dunce at the French language; that the head + mistress of my school was a stupid, common sort of women who cared nothing + for morals; that he (my father) had not yet succeeded in obtaining another + post; that Lamonde’s “Grammar” was a wretched book—even a worse one + than Zapolski’s; that a great deal of money had been squandered upon me; + that it was clear that I was wasting my time in repeating dialogues and + vocabularies; that I alone was at fault, and that I must answer for + everything. Yet this did not arise from any WANT OF LOVE for me on the + part of my father, but rather from the fact that he was incapable of + putting himself in my own and my mother’s place. It came of a defect of + character. + </p> + <p> + All these cares and worries and disappointments tortured my poor father + until he became moody and distrustful. Next he began to neglect his + health, with the result that, catching a chill, he died, after a short + illness, so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a few days we were almost + beside ourselves with the shock—my mother, in particular, lying for + a while in such a state of torpor that I had fears for her reason. The + instant my father was dead creditors seemed to spring up out of the + ground, and to assail us en masse. Everything that we possessed had to be + surrendered to them, including a little house which my father had bought + six months after our arrival in St. Petersburg. How matters were finally + settled I do not know, but we found ourselves roofless, shelterless, and + without a copper. My mother was grievously ill, and of means of + subsistence we had none. Before us there loomed only ruin, sheer ruin. At + the time I was fourteen years old. Soon afterwards Anna Thedorovna came to + see us, saying that she was a lady of property and our relative; and this + my mother confirmed—though, true, she added that Anna was only a + very DISTANT relative. Anna had never taken the least notice of us during + my father’s lifetime, yet now she entered our presence with tears in her + eyes, and an assurance that she meant to better our fortunes. Having + condoled with us on our loss and destitute position, she added that my + father had been to blame for everything, in that he had lived beyond his + means, and taken upon himself more than he was able to perform. Also, she + expressed a wish to draw closer to us, and to forget old scores; and when + my mother explained that, for her own part, she harboured no resentment + against Anna, the latter burst into tears, and, hurrying my mother away to + church, then and there ordered Mass to be said for the “dear departed,” as + she called my father. In this manner she effected a solemn reconciliation + with my mother. + </p> + <p> + Next, after long negotiations and vacillations, coupled with much vivid + description of our destitute position, our desolation, and our + helplessness, Anna invited us to pay her (as she expressed it) a “return + visit.” For this my mother duly thanked her, and considered the invitation + for a while; after which, seeing that there was nothing else to be done, + she informed Anna Thedorovna that she was prepared, gratefully, to accept + her offer. Ah, how I remember the morning when we removed to Vassilievski + Island! [A quarter of St. Petersburg.] It was a clear, dry, frosty morning + in autumn. My mother could not restrain her tears, and I too felt + depressed. Nay, my very heart seemed to be breaking under a strange, + undefined load of sorrow. How terrible it all seemed!... + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + AT first—that is to say, until my mother and myself grew used to our + new abode—we found living at Anna Thedorovna’s both strange and + disagreeable. The house was her own, and contained five rooms, three of + which she shared with my orphaned cousin, Sasha (whom she had brought up + from babyhood); a fourth was occupied by my mother and myself; and the + fifth was rented of Anna by a poor student named Pokrovski. Although Anna + lived in good style—in far better style than might have been + expected—her means and her avocation were conjectural. Never was she + at rest; never was she not busy with some mysterious something or other. + Also, she possessed a wide and varied circle of friends. The stream of + callers was perpetual—although God only knows who they were, or what + their business was. No sooner did my mother hear the door-bell ring than + off she would carry me to our own apartment. This greatly displeased Anna, + who used again and again to assure my mother that we were too proud for + our station in life. In fact, she would sulk for hours about it. At the + time I could not understand these reproaches, and it was not until long + afterwards that I learned—or rather, I guessed—why eventually + my mother declared that she could not go on living with Anna. Yes, Anna + was a bad woman. Never did she let us alone. As to the exact motive why + she had asked us to come and share her house with her I am still in the + dark. At first she was not altogether unkind to us but, later, she + revealed to us her real character—as soon, that is to say, as she + saw that we were at her mercy, and had nowhere else to go. Yes, in early + days she was quite kind to me—even offensively so, but afterwards, I + had to suffer as much as my mother. Constantly did Anna reproach us; + constantly did she remind us of her benefactions, and introduce us to her + friends as poor relatives of hers whom, out of goodness of heart and for + the love of Christ, she had received into her bosom. At table, also, she + would watch every mouthful that we took; and, if our appetite failed, + immediately she would begin as before, and reiterate that we were + over-dainty, that we must not assume that riches would mean happiness, and + that we had better go and live by ourselves. Moreover, she never ceased to + inveigh against my father—saying that he had sought to be better + than other people, and thereby had brought himself to a bad end; that he + had left his wife and daughter destitute; and that, but for the fact that + we had happened to meet with a kind and sympathetic Christian soul, God + alone knew where we should have laid our heads, save in the street. What + did that woman not say? To hear her was not so much galling as disgusting. + From time to time my mother would burst into tears, her health grew worse + from day to day, and her body was becoming sheer skin and bone. All the + while, too, we had to work—to work from morning till night, for we + had contrived to obtain some employment as occasional sempstresses. This, + however, did not please Anna, who used to tell us that there was no room + in her house for a modiste’s establishment. Yet we had to get clothes to + wear, to provide for unforeseen expenses, and to have a little money at + our disposal in case we should some day wish to remove elsewhere. + Unfortunately, the strain undermined my mother’s health, and she became + gradually weaker. Sickness, like a cankerworm, was gnawing at her life, + and dragging her towards the tomb. Well could I see what she was enduring, + what she was suffering. Yes, it all lay open to my eyes. + </p> + <p> + Day succeeded day, and each day was like the last one. We lived a life as + quiet as though we had been in the country. Anna herself grew quieter in + proportion as she came to realise the extent of her power over us. In + nothing did we dare to thwart her. From her portion of the house our + apartment was divided by a corridor, while next to us (as mentioned above) + dwelt a certain Pokrovski, who was engaged in teaching Sasha the French + and German languages, as well as history and geography—“all the + sciences,” as Anna used to say. In return for these services he received + free board and lodging. As for Sasha, she was a clever, but rude and + uncouth, girl of thirteen. On one occasion Anna remarked to my mother that + it might be as well if I also were to take some lessons, seeing that my + education had been neglected at school; and, my mother joyfully assenting, + I joined Sasha for a year in studying under this Pokrovski. + </p> + <p> + The latter was a poor—a very poor—young man whose health would + not permit of his undertaking the regular university course. Indeed, it + was only for form’s sake that we called him “The Student.” He lived in + such a quiet, humble, retiring fashion that never a sound reached us from + his room. Also, his exterior was peculiar—he moved and walked + awkwardly, and uttered his words in such a strange manner that at first I + could never look at him without laughing. Sasha was for ever playing + tricks upon him—more especially when he was giving us our lessons. + But unfortunately, he was of a temperament as excitable as herself. + Indeed, he was so irritable that the least trifle would send him into a + frenzy, and set him shouting at us, and complaining of our conduct. + Sometimes he would even rush away to his room before school hours were + over, and sit there for days over his books, of which he had a store that + was both rare and valuable. In addition, he acted as teacher at another + establishment, and received payment for his services there; and, whenever + he had received his fees for this extra work, he would hasten off and + purchase more books. + </p> + <p> + In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was a good, + worthy fellow—more so than any of the people with whom we otherwise + came in contact. My mother in particular had a great respect for him, and, + after herself, he was my best friend. But at first I was just an overgrown + hoyden, and joined Sasha in playing the fool. For hours we would devise + tricks to anger and distract him, for he looked extremely ridiculous when + he was angry, and so diverted us the more (ashamed though I am now to + admit it). But once, when we had driven him nearly to tears, I heard him + say to himself under his breath, “What cruel children!” and instantly I + repented—I began to feel sad and ashamed and sorry for him. I + reddened to my ears, and begged him, almost with tears, not to mind us, + nor to take offence at our stupid jests. Nevertheless, without finishing + the lesson, he closed his book, and departed to his own room. All that day + I felt torn with remorse. To think that we two children had forced him, + the poor, the unhappy one, to remember his hard lot! And at night I could + not sleep for grief and regret. Remorse is said to bring relief to the + soul, but it is not so. How far my grief was internally connected with my + conceit I do not know, but at least I did not wish him to think me a baby, + seeing that I had now reached the age of fifteen years. Therefore, from + that day onwards I began to torture my imagination with devising a + thousand schemes which should compel Pokrovski to alter his opinion of me. + At the same time, being yet shy and reserved by nature, I ended by finding + that, in my present position, I could make up my mind to nothing but vague + dreams (and such dreams I had). However, I ceased to join Sasha in playing + the fool, while Pokrovski, for his part, ceased to lose his temper with us + so much. Unfortunately this was not enough to satisfy my self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + At this point, I must say a few words about the strangest, the most + interesting, the most pitiable human being that I have ever come across. I + speak of him now—at this particular point in these memoirs—for + the reason that hitherto I had paid him no attention whatever, and began + to do so now only because everything connected with Pokrovski had suddenly + become of absorbing interest in my eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes there came to the house a ragged, poorly-dressed, grey-headed, + awkward, amorphous—in short, a very strange-looking—little old + man. At first glance it might have been thought that he was perpetually + ashamed of something—that he had on his conscience something which + always made him, as it were, bristle up and then shrink into himself. Such + curious starts and grimaces did he indulge in that one was forced to + conclude that he was scarcely in his right mind. On arriving, he would + halt for a while by the window in the hall, as though afraid to enter; + until, should any one happen to pass in or out of the door—whether + Sasha or myself or one of the servants (to the latter he always resorted + the most readily, as being the most nearly akin to his own class)—he + would begin to gesticulate and to beckon to that person, and to make + various signs. Then, should the person in question nod to him, or call him + by name (the recognised token that no other visitor was present, and that + he might enter freely), he would open the door gently, give a smile of + satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together, and proceed on tiptoe to + young Pokrovski’s room. This old fellow was none other than Pokrovski’s + father. + </p> + <p> + Later I came to know his story in detail. Formerly a civil servant, he had + possessed no additional means, and so had occupied a very low and + insignificant position in the service. Then, after his first wife (mother + of the younger Pokrovski) had died, the widower bethought him of marrying + a second time, and took to himself a tradesman’s daughter, who soon + assumed the reins over everything, and brought the home to rack and ruin, + so that the old man was worse off than before. But to the younger + Pokrovski, fate proved kinder, for a landowner named Bwikov, who had + formerly known the lad’s father and been his benefactor, took the boy + under his protection, and sent him to school. Another reason why this + Bwikov took an interest in young Pokrovski was that he had known the lad’s + dead mother, who, while still a serving-maid, had been befriended by Anna + Thedorovna, and subsequently married to the elder Pokrovski. At the + wedding Bwikov, actuated by his friendship for Anna, conferred upon the + young bride a dowry of five thousand roubles; but whither that money had + since disappeared I cannot say. It was from Anna’s lips that I heard the + story, for the student Pokrovski was never prone to talk about his family + affairs. His mother was said to have been very good-looking; wherefore, it + is the more mysterious why she should have made so poor a match. She died + when young—only four years after her espousal. + </p> + <p> + From school the young Pokrovski advanced to a gymnasium, [Secondary + school.] and thence to the University, where Bwikov, who frequently + visited the capital, continued to accord the youth his protection. + Gradually, however, ill health put an end to the young man’s university + course; whereupon Bwikov introduced and personally recommended him to Anna + Thedorovna, and he came to lodge with her on condition that he taught + Sasha whatever might be required of him. + </p> + <p> + Grief at the harshness of his wife led the elder Pokrovski to plunge into + dissipation, and to remain in an almost permanent condition of + drunkenness. Constantly his wife beat him, or sent him to sit in the + kitchen—with the result that in time, he became so inured to blows + and neglect, that he ceased to complain. Still not greatly advanced in + years, he had nevertheless endangered his reason through evil courses—his + only sign of decent human feeling being his love for his son. The latter + was said to resemble his dead mother as one pea may resemble another. What + recollections, therefore, of the kind helpmeet of former days may not have + moved the breast of the poor broken old man to this boundless affection + for the boy? Of naught else could the father ever speak but of his son, + and never did he fail to visit him twice a week. To come oftener he did + not dare, for the reason that the younger Pokrovski did not like these + visits of his father’s. In fact, there can be no doubt that the youth’s + greatest fault was his lack of filial respect. Yet the father was + certainly rather a difficult person to deal with, for, in the first place, + he was extremely inquisitive, while, in the second place, his long-winded + conversation and questions—questions of the most vapid and senseless + order conceivable—always prevented the son from working. Likewise, + the old man occasionally arrived there drunk. Gradually, however, the son + was weaning his parent from his vicious ways and everlasting + inquisitiveness, and teaching the old man to look upon him, his son, as an + oracle, and never to speak without that son’s permission. + </p> + <p> + On the subject of his Petinka, as he called him, the poor old man could + never sufficiently rhapsodise and dilate. Yet when he arrived to see his + son he almost invariably had on his face a downcast, timid expression that + was probably due to uncertainty concerning the way in which he would be + received. For a long time he would hesitate to enter, and if I happened to + be there he would question me for twenty minutes or so as to whether his + Petinka was in good health, as well as to the sort of mood he was in, + whether he was engaged on matters of importance, what precisely he was + doing (writing or meditating), and so on. Then, when I had sufficiently + encouraged and reassured the old man, he would make up his mind to enter, + and quietly and cautiously open the door. Next, he would protrude his head + through the chink, and if he saw that his son was not angry, but threw him + a nod, he would glide noiselessly into the room, take off his scarf, and + hang up his hat (the latter perennially in a bad state of repair, full of + holes, and with a smashed brim)—the whole being done without a word + or a sound of any kind. Next, the old man would seat himself warily on a + chair, and, never removing his eyes from his son, follow his every + movement, as though seeking to gauge Petinka’s state of mind. On the other + hand, if the son was not in good spirits, the father would make a note of + the fact, and at once get up, saying that he had “only called for a minute + or two,” that, “having been out for a long walk, and happening at the + moment to be passing,” he had “looked in for a moment’s rest.” Then + silently and humbly the old man would resume his hat and scarf; softly he + would open the door, and noiselessly depart with a forced smile on his + face—the better to bear the disappointment which was seething in his + breast, the better to help him not to show it to his son. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, whenever the son received his father civilly the old + man would be struck dumb with joy. Satisfaction would beam in his face, in + his every gesture, in his every movement. And if the son deigned to engage + in conversation with him, the old man always rose a little from his chair, + and answered softly, sympathetically, with something like reverence, while + strenuously endeavouring to make use of the most recherche (that is to + say, the most ridiculous) expressions. But, alas! He had not the gift of + words. Always he grew confused, and turned red in the face; never did he + know what to do with his hands or with himself. Likewise, whenever he had + returned an answer of any kind, he would go on repeating the same in a + whisper, as though he were seeking to justify what he had just said. And + if he happened to have returned a good answer, he would begin to preen + himself, and to straighten his waistcoat, frockcoat and tie, and to assume + an air of conscious dignity. Indeed, on these occasions he would feel so + encouraged, he would carry his daring to such a pitch, that, rising softly + from his chair, he would approach the bookshelves, take thence a book, and + read over to himself some passage or another. All this he would do with an + air of feigned indifference and sangfroid, as though he were free ALWAYS + to use his son’s books, and his son’s kindness were no rarity at all. Yet + on one occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale on being told + by his son not to touch the books. Abashed and confused, he, in his + awkward hurry, replaced the volume wrong side uppermost; whereupon, with a + supreme effort to recover himself, he turned it round with a smile and a + blush, as though he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. + Gradually, as already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father from + his dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three + successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes, also, the + younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or a waistcoat; + whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his acquisition as a peacock. + Not infrequently, also, the old man would step in to visit ourselves, and + bring Sasha and myself gingerbread birds or apples, while talking + unceasingly of Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay attention to our + lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an exemplary son, a son + who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after which he would wink at + us so quizzingly with his left eye, and twist himself about in such + amusing fashion, that we were forced to burst out laughing. My mother had + a great liking for him, but he detested Anna Thedorovna—although in + her presence he would be quieter than water and lowlier than the earth. + </p> + <p> + Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now he thought + me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha; and this hurt me + extremely, seeing that I had done so much to expiate my former behaviour. + Of my efforts in this direction no notice had been taken, and the fact + continued to anger me more and more. Scarcely ever did I address a word to + my tutor between school hours, for I simply could not bring myself to do + it. If I made the attempt I only grew red and confused, and rushed away to + weep in a corner. How it would all have ended I do not know, had not a + curious incident helped to bring about a rapprochement. One evening, when + my mother was sitting in Anna Thedorovna’s room, I crept on tiptoe to + Pokrovski’s apartment, in the belief that he was not at home. Some strange + impulse moved me to do so. True, we had lived cheek by jowl with one + another; yet never once had I caught a glimpse of his abode. Consequently + my heart beat loudly—so loudly, indeed, that it seemed almost to be + bursting from my breast. On entering the room I glanced around me with + tense interest. The apartment was very poorly furnished, and bore few + traces of orderliness. On table and chairs there lay heaps of books; + everywhere were books and papers. Then a strange thought entered my head, + as well as, with the thought, an unpleasant feeling of irritation. It + seemed to me that my friendship, my heart’s affection, meant little to + him, for HE was well-educated, whereas I was stupid, and had learned + nothing, and had read not a single book. So I stood looking wistfully at + the long bookshelves where they groaned under their weight of volumes. I + felt filled with grief, disappointment, and a sort of frenzy. I felt that + I MUST read those books, and decided to do so—to read them one by + one, and with all possible speed. Probably the idea was that, by learning + whatsoever HE knew, I should render myself more worthy of his friendship. + So, I made a rush towards the bookcase nearest me, and, without stopping + further to consider matters, seized hold of the first dusty tome upon + which my hands chanced to alight, and, reddening and growing pale by + turns, and trembling with fear and excitement, clasped the stolen book to + my breast with the intention of reading it by candle light while my mother + lay asleep at night. + </p> + <p> + But how vexed I felt when, on returning to our own room, and hastily + turning the pages, only an old, battered worm-eaten Latin work greeted my + eyes! Without loss of time I retraced my steps. Just when I was about to + replace the book I heard a noise in the corridor outside, and the sound of + footsteps approaching. Fumblingly I hastened to complete what I was about, + but the tiresome book had become so tightly wedged into its row that, on + being pulled out, it caused its fellows to close up too compactly to leave + any place for their comrade. To insert the book was beyond my strength; + yet still I kept pushing and pushing at the row. At last the rusty nail + which supported the shelf (the thing seemed to have been waiting on + purpose for that moment!) broke off short; with the result that the shelf + descended with a crash, and the books piled themselves in a heap on the + floor! Then the door of the room opened, and Pokrovski entered! + </p> + <p> + I must here remark that he never could bear to have his possessions + tampered with. Woe to the person, in particular, who touched his books! + Judge, therefore, of my horror when books small and great, books of every + possible shape and size and thickness, came tumbling from the shelf, and + flew and sprang over the table, and under the chairs, and about the whole + room. I would have turned and fled, but it was too late. “All is over!” + thought I. “All is over! I am ruined, I am undone! Here have I been + playing the fool like a ten-year-old child! What a stupid girl I am! The + monstrous fool!” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Pokrovski was very angry. “What? Have you not done enough?” he + cried. “Are you not ashamed to be for ever indulging in such pranks? Are + you NEVER going to grow sensible?” With that he darted forward to pick up + the books, while I bent down to help him. + </p> + <p> + “You need not, you need not!” he went on. “You would have done far better + not to have entered without an invitation.” + </p> + <p> + Next, a little mollified by my humble demeanour, he resumed in his usual + tutorial tone—the tone which he had adopted in his new-found role of + preceptor: + </p> + <p> + “When are you going to grow steadier and more thoughtful? Consider + yourself for a moment. You are no longer a child, a little girl, but a + maiden of fifteen.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a desire (probably) to satisfy himself that I was no longer a + being of tender years, he threw me a glance—but straightway reddened + to his very ears. This I could not understand, but stood gazing at him in + astonishment. Presently, he straightened himself a little, approached me + with a sort of confused expression, and haltingly said something—probably + it was an apology for not having before perceived that I was now a + grown-up young person. But the next moment I understood. What I did I + hardly know, save that, in my dismay and confusion, I blushed even more + hotly than he had done and, covering my face with my hands, rushed from + the room. + </p> + <p> + What to do with myself for shame I could not think. The one thought in my + head was that he had surprised me in his room. For three whole days I + found myself unable to raise my eyes to his, but blushed always to the + point of weeping. The strangest and most confused of thoughts kept + entering my brain. One of them—the most extravagant—was that I + should dearly like to go to Pokrovski, and to explain to him the + situation, and to make full confession, and to tell him everything without + concealment, and to assure him that I had not acted foolishly as a minx, + but honestly and of set purpose. In fact, I DID make up my mind to take + this course, but lacked the necessary courage to do it. If I had done so, + what a figure I should have cut! Even now I am ashamed to think of it. + </p> + <p> + A few days later, my mother suddenly fell dangerously ill. For two days + past she had not left her bed, while during the third night of her illness + she became seized with fever and delirium. I also had not closed my eyes + during the previous night, but now waited upon my mother, sat by her bed, + brought her drink at intervals, and gave her medicine at duly appointed + hours. The next night I suffered terribly. Every now and then sleep would + cause me to nod, and objects grow dim before my eyes. Also, my head was + turning dizzy, and I could have fainted for very weariness. Yet always my + mother’s feeble moans recalled me to myself as I started, momentarily + awoke, and then again felt drowsiness overcoming me. What torture it was! + I do not know, I cannot clearly remember, but I think that, during a + moment when wakefulness was thus contending with slumber, a strange dream, + a horrible vision, visited my overwrought brain, and I awoke in terror. + The room was nearly in darkness, for the candle was flickering, and + throwing stray beams of light which suddenly illuminated the room, danced + for a moment on the walls, and then disappeared. Somehow I felt afraid—a + sort of horror had come upon me—my imagination had been over-excited + by the evil dream which I had experienced, and a feeling of oppression was + crushing my heart.... I leapt from the chair, and involuntarily uttered a + cry—a cry wrung from me by the terrible, torturing sensation that + was upon me. Presently the door opened, and Pokrovski entered. + </p> + <p> + I remember that I was in his arms when I recovered my senses. Carefully + seating me on a bench, he handed me a glass of water, and then asked me a + few questions—though how I answered them I do not know. “You + yourself are ill,” he said as he took my hand. “You yourself are VERY ill. + You are feverish, and I can see that you are knocking yourself out through + your neglect of your own health. Take a little rest. Lie down and go to + sleep. Yes, lie down, lie down,” he continued without giving me time to + protest. Indeed, fatigue had so exhausted my strength that my eyes were + closing from very weakness. So I lay down on the bench with the intention + of sleeping for half an hour only; but, I slept till morning. Pokrovski + then awoke me, saying that it was time for me to go and give my mother her + medicine. + </p> + <p> + When the next evening, about eight o’clock, I had rested a little and was + preparing to spend the night in a chair beside my mother (fixedly meaning + not to go to sleep this time), Pokrovski suddenly knocked at the door. I + opened it, and he informed me that, since, possibly, I might find the time + wearisome, he had brought me a few books to read. I accepted the books, + but do not, even now, know what books they were, nor whether I looked into + them, despite the fact that I never closed my eyes the whole night long. + The truth was that a strange feeling of excitement was preventing me from + sleeping, and I could not rest long in any one spot, but had to keep + rising from my chair, and walking about the room. Throughout my whole + being there seemed to be diffused a kind of elation—of elation at + Pokrovski’s attentions, at the thought that he was anxious and uneasy + about me. Until dawn I pondered and dreamed; and though I felt sure + Pokrovski would not again visit us that night, I gave myself up to fancies + concerning what he might do the following evening. + </p> + <p> + That evening, when everyone else in the house had retired to rest, + Pokrovski opened his door, and opened a conversation from the threshold of + his room. Although, at this distance of time, I cannot remember a word of + what we said to one another, I remember that I blushed, grew confused, + felt vexed with myself, and awaited with impatience the end of the + conversation although I myself had been longing for the meeting to take + place, and had spent the day in dreaming of it, and devising a string of + suitable questions and replies. Yes, that evening saw the first strand in + our friendship knitted; and each subsequent night of my mother’s illness + we spent several hours together. Little by little I overcame his reserve, + but found that each of these conversations left me filled with a sense of + vexation at myself. At the same time, I could see with secret joy and a + sense of proud elation that I was leading him to forget his tiresome + books. At last the conversation turned jestingly upon the upsetting of the + shelf. The moment was a peculiar one, for it came upon me just when I was + in the right mood for self-revelation and candour. In my ardour, my + curious phase of exaltation, I found myself led to make a full confession + of the fact that I had become wishful to learn, to KNOW, something, since + I had felt hurt at being taken for a chit, a mere baby.... I repeat that + that night I was in a very strange frame of mind. My heart was inclined to + be tender, and there were tears standing in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal + as I told him about my friendship for him, about my desire to love him, + about my scheme for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and + making his life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion mingled + with astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I began to feel + terribly pained and disappointed, for I conceived that he had failed to + understand me, or even that he might be laughing at me. Bursting into + tears like a child, I sobbed, and could not stop myself, for I had fallen + into a kind of fit; whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and clasped it + to his breast—saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort me, for + he was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said I do not + remember—I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed, and found + myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my agitation, I + noticed that about him there still lingered an air of constraint and + uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at my enthusiasm and raptures—at + my curiously ardent, unexpected, consuming friendship. It may be that at + first he was amazed, but that afterwards he accepted my devotion and words + of invitation and expressions of interest with the same simple frankness + as I had offered them, and responded to them with an interest, a + friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a friend or a brother + would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my heart! Nothing had I + concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all to his sight, and each day + would see him draw nearer to me. + </p> + <p> + Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those painful, yet + rapturous, hours when, by the trembling light of a lamp, and almost at the + very bedside of my poor sick mother, we kept midnight tryst. Whatsoever + first came into our heads we spoke of—whatsoever came riven from our + hearts, whatsoever seemed to call for utterance, found voice. And almost + always we were happy. What a grievous, yet joyous, period it was—a + period grievous and joyous at the same time! To this day it both hurts and + delights me to recall it. Joyous or bitter though it was, its memories are + yet painful. At least they seem so to me, though a certain sweetness + assuaged the pain. So, whenever I am feeling heartsick and oppressed and + jaded and sad those memories return to freshen and revive me, even as + drops of evening dew return to freshen and revive, after a sultry day, the + poor faded flower which has long been drooping in the noontide heat. + </p> + <p> + My mother grew better, but still I continued to spend the nights on a + chair by her bedside. Often, too, Pokrovski would give me books. At first + I read them merely so as to avoid going to sleep, but afterwards I + examined them with more attention, and subsequently with actual avidity, + for they opened up to me a new, an unexpected, an unknown, an unfamiliar + world. New thoughts, added to new impressions, would come pouring into my + heart in a rich flood; and the more emotion, the more pain and labour, it + cost me to assimilate these new impressions, the dearer did they become to + me, and the more gratefully did they stir my soul to its very depths. + Crowding into my heart without giving it time even to breathe, they would + cause my whole being to become lost in a wondrous chaos. Yet this + spiritual ferment was not sufficiently strong wholly to undo me. For that + I was too fanciful, and the fact saved me. + </p> + <p> + With the passing of my mother’s illness the midnight meetings and long + conversations between myself and Pokrovski came to an end. Only + occasionally did we exchange a few words with one another—words, for + the most part, that were of little purport or substance, yet words to + which it delighted me to apportion their several meanings, their peculiar + secret values. My life had now become full—I was happy; I was + quietly, restfully happy. Thus did several weeks elapse.... + </p> + <p> + One day the elder Pokrovski came to see us, and chattered in a brisk, + cheerful, garrulous sort of way. He laughed, launched out into witticisms, + and, finally, resolved the riddle of his transports by informing us that + in a week’s time it would be his Petinka’s birthday, when, in honour of + the occasion, he (the father) meant to don a new jacket (as well as new + shoes which his wife was going to buy for him), and to come and pay a + visit to his son. In short, the old man was perfectly happy, and gossiped + about whatsoever first entered his head. + </p> + <p> + My lover’s birthday! Thenceforward, I could not rest by night or day. + Whatever might happen, it was my fixed intention to remind Pokrovski of + our friendship by giving him a present. But what sort of present? Finally, + I decided to give him books. I knew that he had long wanted to possess a + complete set of Pushkin’s works, in the latest edition; so, I decided to + buy Pushkin. My private fund consisted of thirty roubles, earned by + handiwork, and designed eventually to procure me a new dress, but at once + I dispatched our cook, old Matrena, to ascertain the price of such an + edition. Horrors! The price of the eleven volumes, added to extra outlay + upon the binding, would amount to at least SIXTY roubles! Where was the + money to come from? I thought and thought, yet could not decide. I did not + like to resort to my mother. Of course she would help me, but in that case + every one in the house would become aware of my gift, and the gift itself + would assume the guise of a recompense—of payment for Pokrovski’s + labours on my behalf during the past year; whereas, I wished to present + the gift ALONE, and without the knowledge of anyone. For the trouble that + he had taken with me I wished to be his perpetual debtor—to make him + no payment at all save my friendship. At length, I thought of a way out of + the difficulty. + </p> + <p> + I knew that of the hucksters in the Gostinni Dvor one could sometimes buy + a book—even one that had been little used and was almost entirely + new—for a half of its price, provided that one haggled sufficiently + over it; wherefore I determined to repair thither. It so happened that, + next day, both Anna Thedorovna and ourselves were in want of sundry + articles; and since my mother was unwell and Anna lazy, the execution of + the commissions devolved upon me, and I set forth with Matrena. + </p> + <p> + Luckily, I soon chanced upon a set of Pushkin, handsomely bound, and set + myself to bargain for it. At first more was demanded than would have been + asked of me in a shop; but afterwards—though not without a great + deal of trouble on my part, and several feints at departing—I + induced the dealer to lower his price, and to limit his demands to ten + roubles in silver. How I rejoiced that I had engaged in this bargaining! + Poor Matrena could not imagine what had come to me, nor why I so desired + to buy books. But, oh horror of horrors! As soon as ever the dealer caught + sight of my capital of thirty roubles in notes, he refused to let the + Pushkin go for less than the sum he had first named; and though, in answer + to my prayers and protestations, he eventually yielded a little, he did so + only to the tune of two-and-a-half roubles more than I possessed, while + swearing that he was making the concession for my sake alone, since I was + “a sweet young lady,” and that he would have done so for no one else in + the world. To think that only two-and-a-half roubles should still be + wanting! I could have wept with vexation. Suddenly an unlooked-for + circumstance occurred to help me in my distress. + </p> + <p> + Not far away, near another table that was heaped with books, I perceived + the elder Pokrovski, and a crowd of four or five hucksters plaguing him + nearly out of his senses. Each of these fellows was proffering the old man + his own particular wares; and while there was nothing that they did not + submit for his approval, there was nothing that he wished to buy. The poor + old fellow had the air of a man who is receiving a thrashing. What to make + of what he was being offered him he did not know. Approaching him, I + inquired what he happened to be doing there; whereat the old man was + delighted, since he liked me (it may be) no less than he did Petinka. + </p> + <p> + “I am buying some books, Barbara Alexievna,” said he, “I am buying them + for my Petinka. It will be his birthday soon, and since he likes books I + thought I would get him some.” + </p> + <p> + The old man always expressed himself in a very roundabout sort of fashion, + and on the present occasion he was doubly, terribly confused. Of no matter + what book he asked the price, it was sure to be one, two, or three + roubles. The larger books he could not afford at all; he could only look + at them wistfully, fumble their leaves with his finger, turn over the + volumes in his hands, and then replace them. “No, no, that is too dear,” + he would mutter under his breath. “I must go and try somewhere else.” Then + again he would fall to examining copy-books, collections of poems, and + almanacs of the cheaper order. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you buy things like those?” I asked him. “They are such + rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he replied. “See what nice books they are! Yes, they ARE nice + books!” Yet these last words he uttered so lingeringly that I could see he + was ready to weep with vexation at finding the better sorts of books so + expensive. Already a little tear was trickling down his pale cheeks and + red nose. I inquired whether he had much money on him; whereupon the poor + old fellow pulled out his entire stock, wrapped in a piece of dirty + newspaper, and consisting of a few small silver coins, with twenty kopecks + in copper. At once I seized the lot, and, dragging him off to my huckster, + said: “Look here. These eleven volumes of Pushkin are priced at + thirty-two-and-a-half roubles, and I have only thirty roubles. Let us add + to them these two-and-a-half roubles of yours, and buy the books together, + and make them our joint gift.” The old man was overjoyed, and pulled out + his money en masse; whereupon the huckster loaded him with our common + library. Stuffing it into his pockets, as well as filling both arms with + it, he departed homewards with his prize, after giving me his word to + bring me the books privately on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Next day the old man came to see his son, and sat with him, as usual, for + about an hour; after which he visited ourselves, wearing on his face the + most comical, the most mysterious expression conceivable. Smiling broadly + with satisfaction at the thought that he was the possessor of a secret, he + informed me that he had stealthily brought the books to our rooms, and + hidden them in a corner of the kitchen, under Matrena’s care. Next, by a + natural transition, the conversation passed to the coming fête-day; + whereupon, the old man proceeded to hold forth extensively on the subject + of gifts. The further he delved into his thesis, and the more he expounded + it, the clearer could I see that on his mind there was something which he + could not, dared not, divulge. So I waited and kept silent. The mysterious + exaltation, the repressed satisfaction which I had hitherto discerned in + his antics and grimaces and left-eyed winks gradually disappeared, and he + began to grow momentarily more anxious and uneasy. At length he could + contain himself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Barbara Alexievna,” he said timidly. “Listen to what I have got + to say to you. When his birthday is come, do you take TEN of the books, + and give them to him yourself—that is, FOR yourself, as being YOUR + share of the gift. Then I will take the eleventh book, and give it to him + MYSELF, as being my gift. If we do that, you will have a present for him + and I shall have one—both of us alike.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not want us to present our gifts together, Zachar Petrovitch?” + I asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” he replied. “Very well, Barbara Alexievna. Only—only, + I thought that—” + </p> + <p> + The old man broke off in confusion, while his face flushed with the + exertion of thus expressing himself. For a moment or two he sat glued to + his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he went on, “I play the fool too much. I am forever playing the + fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it is wrong to do so. At + home it is often cold, and sometimes there are other troubles as well, and + it all makes me depressed. Well, whenever that happens, I indulge a + little, and occasionally drink too much. Now, Petinka does not like that; + he loses his temper about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds me, and reads + me lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am mending my ways, + and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time past, I have been + saving up to buy him a book—yes, for a long time past I have been + saving up for it, since it is seldom that I have any money, unless Petinka + happens to give me some. He knows that, and, consequently, as soon as ever + he perceives the use to which I have put his money, he will understand + that it is for his sake alone that I have acted.” + </p> + <p> + My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with such + anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what,” I said. “Do you give him all the books.” + </p> + <p> + “ALL?” he ejaculated. “ALL the books?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “As my own gift?” + </p> + <p> +“Yes, as your own gift.” + </p> + <p> + “As my gift alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as your gift alone.” + </p> + <p> + Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to + understand me. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he after reflection, “that certainly would be splendid—certainly + it would be most splendid. But what about yourself, Barbara Alexievna?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall give your son nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried in dismay. “Are you going to give Petinka nothing—do + you WISH to give him nothing?” So put about was the old fellow with what I + had said, that he seemed almost ready to renounce his own proposal if only + I would give his son something. What a kind heart he had! I hastened to + assure him that I should certainly have a gift of some sort ready, since + my one wish was to avoid spoiling his pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Provided that your son is pleased,” I added, “and that you are pleased, I + shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I shall feel as though I + had presented the gift.” + </p> + <p> + This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another couple of + hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept jumping up from his + seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, bestowing stealthy kisses upon + myself, pinching my hands, and making silent grimaces at Anna Thedorovna. + At length, she turned him out of the house. In short, his transports of + joy exceeded anything that I had yet beheld. + </p> + <p> + On the festal day he arrived exactly at eleven o’clock, direct from Mass. + He was dressed in a carefully mended frockcoat, a new waistcoat, and a + pair of new shoes, while in his arms he carried our pile of books. Next we + all sat down to coffee (the day being Sunday) in Anna Thedorovna’s + parlour. The old man led off the meal by saying that Pushkin was a + magnificent poet. Thereafter, with a return to shamefacedness and + confusion, he passed suddenly to the statement that a man ought to conduct + himself properly; that, should he not do so, it might be taken as a sign + that he was in some way overindulging himself; and that evil tendencies of + this sort led to the man’s ruin and degradation. Then the orator sketched + for our benefit some terrible instances of such incontinence, and + concluded by informing us that for some time past he had been mending his + own ways, and conducting himself in exemplary fashion, for the reason that + he had perceived the justice of his son’s precepts, and had laid them to + heart so well that he, the father, had really changed for the better: in + proof whereof, he now begged to present to the said son some books for + which he had long been setting aside his savings. + </p> + <p> + As I listened to the old man I could not help laughing and crying in a + breath. Certainly he knew how to lie when the occasion required! The books + were transferred to his son’s room, and arranged upon a shelf, where + Pokrovski at once guessed the truth about them. Then the old man was + invited to dinner and we all spent a merry day together at cards and + forfeits. Sasha was full of life, and I rivalled her, while Pokrovski paid + me numerous attentions, and kept seeking an occasion to speak to me alone. + But to allow this to happen I refused. Yes, taken all in all, it was the + happiest day that I had known for four years. + </p> + <p> + But now only grievous, painful memories come to my recollection, for I + must enter upon the story of my darker experiences. It may be that that is + why my pen begins to move more slowly, and seems as though it were going + altogether to refuse to write. The same reason may account for my having + undertaken so lovingly and enthusiastically a recounting of even the + smallest details of my younger, happier days. But alas! those days did not + last long, and were succeeded by a period of black sorrow which will close + only God knows when! + </p> + <p> + My misfortunes began with the illness and death of Pokrovski, who was + taken worse two months after what I have last recorded in these memoirs. + During those two months he worked hard to procure himself a livelihood + since hitherto he had had no assured position. Like all consumptives, he + never—not even up to his last moment—altogether abandoned the + hope of being able to enjoy a long life. A post as tutor fell in his way, + but he had never liked the profession; while for him to become a civil + servant was out of the question, owing to his weak state of health. + Moreover, in the latter capacity he would have had to have waited a long + time for his first instalment of salary. Again, he always looked at the + darker side of things, for his character was gradually being warped, and + his health undermined by his illness, though he never noticed it. Then + autumn came on, and daily he went out to business—that is to say, to + apply for and to canvass for posts—clad only in a light jacket; with + the result that, after repeated soakings with rain, he had to take to his + bed, and never again left it. He died in mid-autumn at the close of the + month of October. + </p> + <p> + Throughout his illness I scarcely ever left his room, but waited on him + hand and foot. Often he could not sleep for several nights at a time. + Often, too, he was unconscious, or else in a delirium; and at such times + he would talk of all sorts of things—of his work, of his books, of + his father, of myself. At such times I learned much which I had not + hitherto known or divined about his affairs. During the early part of his + illness everyone in the house looked askance at me, and Anna Thedorovna + would nod her head in a meaning manner; but, I always looked them straight + in the face, and gradually they ceased to take any notice of my concern + for Pokrovski. At all events my mother ceased to trouble her head about + it. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Pokrovski would know who I was, but not often, for more usually + he was unconscious. Sometimes, too, he would talk all night with some + unknown person, in dim, mysterious language that caused his gasping voice + to echo hoarsely through the narrow room as through a sepulchre; and at + such times, I found the situation a strange one. During his last night he + was especially lightheaded, for then he was in terrible agony, and kept + rambling in his speech until my soul was torn with pity. Everyone in the + house was alarmed, and Anna Thedorovna fell to praying that God might soon + take him. When the doctor had been summoned, the verdict was that the + patient would die with the morning. + </p> + <p> + That night the elder Pokrovski spent in the corridor, at the door of his + son’s room. Though given a mattress to lie upon, he spent his time in + running in and out of the apartment. So broken with grief was he that he + presented a dreadful spectacle, and appeared to have lost both perception + and feeling. His head trembled with agony, and his body quivered from head + to foot as at times he murmured to himself something which he appeared to + be debating. Every moment I expected to see him go out of his mind. Just + before dawn he succumbed to the stress of mental agony, and fell asleep on + his mattress like a man who has been beaten; but by eight o’clock the son + was at the point of death, and I ran to wake the father. The dying man was + quite conscious, and bid us all farewell. Somehow I could not weep, though + my heart seemed to be breaking. + </p> + <p> + The last moments were the most harassing and heartbreaking of all. For + some time past Pokrovski had been asking for something with his failing + tongue, but I had been unable to distinguish his words. Yet my heart had + been bursting with grief. Then for an hour he had lain quieter, except + that he had looked sadly in my direction, and striven to make some sign + with his death-cold hands. At last he again essayed his piteous request in + a hoarse, deep voice, but the words issued in so many inarticulate sounds, + and once more I failed to divine his meaning. By turns I brought each + member of the household to his bedside, and gave him something to drink, + but he only shook his head sorrowfully. Finally, I understood what it was + he wanted. He was asking me to draw aside the curtain from the window, and + to open the casements. Probably he wished to take his last look at the + daylight and the sun and all God’s world. I pulled back the curtain, but + the opening day was as dull and mournful—looking as though it had + been the fast-flickering life of the poor invalid. Of sunshine there was + none. Clouds overlaid the sky as with a shroud of mist, and everything + looked sad, rainy, and threatening under a fine drizzle which was beating + against the window-panes, and streaking their dull, dark surfaces with + runlets of cold, dirty moisture. Only a scanty modicum of daylight entered + to war with the trembling rays of the ikon lamp. The dying man threw me a + wistful look, and nodded. The next moment he had passed away. + </p> + <p> + The funeral was arranged for by Anna Thedorovna. A plain coffin was + bought, and a broken-down hearse hired; while, as security for this + outlay, she seized the dead man’s books and other articles. Nevertheless, + the old man disputed the books with her, and, raising an uproar, carried + off as many of them as he could—stuffing his pockets full, and even + filling his hat. Indeed, he spent the next three days with them thus, and + refused to let them leave his sight even when it was time for him to go to + church. Throughout he acted like a man bereft of sense and memory. With + quaint assiduity he busied himself about the bier—now straightening + the candlestick on the dead man’s breast, now snuffing and lighting the + other candles. Clearly his thoughts were powerless to remain long fixed on + any subject. Neither my mother nor Anna Thedorovna were present at the + requiem, for the former was ill and the latter was at loggerheads with the + old man. Only myself and the father were there. During the service a sort + of panic, a sort of premonition of the future, came over me, and I could + hardly hold myself upright. At length the coffin had received its burden + and was screwed down; after which the bearers placed it upon a bier, and + set out. I accompanied the cortège only to the end of the street. Here the + driver broke into a trot, and the old man started to run behind the hearse—sobbing + loudly, but with the motion of his running ever and anon causing the sobs + to quaver and become broken off. Next he lost his hat, the poor old + fellow, yet would not stop to pick it up, even though the rain was beating + upon his head, and a wind was rising and the sleet kept stinging and + lashing his face. It seemed as though he were impervious to the cruel + elements as he ran from one side of the hearse to the other—the + skirts of his old greatcoat flapping about him like a pair of wings. From + every pocket of the garment protruded books, while in his hand he carried + a specially large volume, which he hugged closely to his breast. The + passers-by uncovered their heads and crossed themselves as the cortège + passed, and some of them, having done so, remained staring in amazement at + the poor old man. Every now and then a book would slip from one of his + pockets and fall into the mud; whereupon somebody, stopping him, would + direct his attention to his loss, and he would stop, pick up the book, and + again set off in pursuit of the hearse. At the corner of the street he was + joined by a ragged old woman; until at length the hearse turned a corner, + and became hidden from my eyes. Then I went home, and threw myself, in a + transport of grief, upon my mother’s breast—clasping her in my arms, + kissing her amid a storm of sobs and tears, and clinging to her form as + though in my embraces I were holding my last friend on earth, that I might + preserve her from death. Yet already death was standing over her.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 11th + </h2> + <p> + How I thank you for our walk to the Islands yesterday, Makar Alexievitch! + How fresh and pleasant, how full of verdure, was everything! And I had not + seen anything green for such a long time! During my illness I used to + think that I should never get better, that I was certainly going to die. + Judge, then, how I felt yesterday! True, I may have seemed to you a little + sad, and you must not be angry with me for that. Happy and light-hearted + though I was, there were moments, even at the height of my felicity, when, + for some unknown reason, depression came sweeping over my soul. I kept + weeping about trifles, yet could not say why I was grieved. The truth is + that I am unwell—so much so, that I look at everything from the + gloomy point of view. The pale, clear sky, the setting sun, the evening + stillness—ah, somehow I felt disposed to grieve and feel hurt at + these things; my heart seemed to be over-charged, and to be calling for + tears to relieve it. But why should I write this to you? It is difficult + for my heart to express itself; still more difficult for it to forego + self-expression. Yet possibly you may understand me. Tears and + laughter!... How good you are, Makar Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked + into my eyes as though you could read in them all that I was feeling—as + though you were rejoicing at my happiness. Whether it were a group of + shrubs or an alleyway or a vista of water that we were passing, you would + halt before me, and stand gazing at my face as though you were showing me + possessions of your own. It told me how kind is your nature, and I love + you for it. Today I am again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and + took a chill. Thedora also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do not forget + me. Come and see me as often as you can.—Your own, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 12th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—I had supposed that you meant to + describe our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there has + arrived only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must say that, + little though you have put into your letter, that little is not expressed + with rare beauty and grace. Nature, your descriptions of rural scenes, + your analysis of your own feelings—the whole is beautifully written. + Alas, I have no such talent! Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing + comes of it—I might as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I + know from experience. + </p> + <p> + You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not harm my + fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness of God (as + expressed in nature’s handiwork), and so on. It may all be so, my dearest + one—it may all be exactly as you say. Indeed, I think that you are + right. But if so, the reason is that when one reads such a letter as you + have just sent me, one’s heart involuntarily softens, and affords entrance + to thoughts of a graver and weightier order. Listen, my darling; I have + something to tell you, my beloved one. + </p> + <p> + I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and first + entered the service—though I shall soon have completed my thirtieth + year of official activity. I may say that at first I was much pleased with + my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I grew in mind, and fell to studying + my fellow-men. Likewise I may say that I lived an upright life—so + much so that at last I incurred persecution. This you may not believe, but + it is true. To think that men so cruel should exist! For though, dearest + one, I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like everyone else. + Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I tell you what these + cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell it you—and all + because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured disposition! + Things began with “this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your fault.” Then + it went on to “I need hardly say that the fault is wholly Makar + Alexievitch’s.” Finally it became “OF COURSE Makar Alexievitch is to + blame.” Do you see the sequence of things, my darling? Every mistake was + attributed to me, until “Makar Alexievitch” became a byword in our + department. Also, while making of me a proverb, these fellows could not + give me a smile or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with my + uniform, with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to their + taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from that day to + this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can grow accustomed to + anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable disposition, like all men + of small stature)—yet why should these things be? Whom have I + harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted? Whom have I ever traduced to his + superiors? No, the fault is that more than once I have asked for an + increase of salary. But have I ever CABALLED for it? No, you would be + wrong in thinking so, my dearest one. HOW could I ever have done so? You + yourself have had many opportunities of seeing how incapable I am of + deceit or chicanery. + Why then, should this have fallen to my lot?... However, since you think + me worthy of respect, my darling, I do not care, for you are far and away + the best person in the world.... What do you consider to be the greatest + social virtue? In private conversation Evstafi Ivanovitch once told me + that the greatest social virtue might be considered to be an ability to + get money to spend. Also, my comrades used jestingly (yes, I know only + jestingly) to propound the ethical maxim that a man ought never to let + himself become a burden upon anyone. Well, I am a burden upon no one. It + is my own crust of bread that I eat; and though that crust is but a poor + one, and sometimes actually a maggoty one, it has at least been EARNED, + and therefore, is being put to a right and lawful use. What therefore, + ought I to do? I know that I can earn but little by my labours as a + copyist; yet even of that little I am proud, for it has entailed WORK, and + has wrung sweat from my brow. What harm is there in being a copyist? “He + is only an amanuensis,” people say of me. But what is there so disgraceful + in that? My writing is at least legible, neat, and pleasant to look upon—and + his Excellency is satisfied with it. Indeed, I transcribe many important + documents. At the same time, I know that my writing lacks STYLE, which is + why I have never risen in the service. Even to you, my dear one, I write + simply and without tricks, but just as a thought may happen to enter my + head. Yes, I know all this; but if everyone were to become a fine writer, + who would there be left to act as copyists?... Whatsoever questions I may + put to you in my letters, dearest, I pray you to answer them. I am sure + that you need me, that I can be of use to you; and, since that is so, I + must not allow myself to be distracted by any trifle. Even if I be likened + to a rat, I do not care, provided that that particular rat be wanted by + you, and be of use in the world, and be retained in its position, and + receive its reward. But what a rat it is! + </p> + <p> + Enough of this, dearest one. I ought not to have spoken of it, but I lost + my temper. Still, it is pleasant to speak the truth sometimes. Goodbye, my + own, my darling, my sweet little comforter! I will come to you soon—yes, + I will certainly come to you. Until I do so, do not fret yourself. With me + I shall be bringing a book. Once more goodbye.—Your heartfelt + well-wisher, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 20th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—I am writing to you post-haste—I + am hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do you suppose + is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity has occurred for you + to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells me that a retired civil servant + of her acquaintance has a uniform to sell—one cut to regulation + pattern and in good repair, as well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO + not tell me that you have not got the money, for I know from your own lips + that you HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See what + terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful—they are + patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That this is so, + I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me about it. So listen to + me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it for MY sake. Do it to show that + you really love me. + </p> + <p> + You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar + Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that you should + spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money, upon me? How you + love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I do not need it, that such + expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I am CERTAIN, that you love me—therefore, + it is useless to remind me of the fact with gifts. Nor do I like receiving + them, since I know how much they must have cost you. No—put your + money to a better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to do so. Also, you ask me + to send you a continuation of my memoirs—to conclude them. But I + know not how I contrived even to write as much of them as I did; and now I + have not the strength to write further of my past, nor the desire to give + it a single thought. Such recollections are terrible to me. Most difficult + of all is it for me to speak of my poor mother, who left her destitute + daughter a prey to villains. My heart runs blood whenever I think of it; + it is so fresh in my memory that I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor + rest for its insistence, although a year has now elapsed since the events + took place. But all this you know. + </p> + <p> + Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She accuses + me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made against herself with + regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps sending for me, and telling me + that I have taken to evil courses, but that if I will return to her, she + will smooth over matters with Bwikov, and force him to confess his fault. + Also, she says that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them all! I + am quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to me + reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman though you + may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other people I do not wish + to know, and would gladly forget if I could.... What are they wanting with + me now? Thedora declares it all to be a trick, and says that in time they + will leave me alone. God grant it be so! + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 21st. + </h2> + <p> + MY OWN, MY DARLING,—I wish to write to you, yet know not where to + begin. Things are as strange as though we were actually living together. + Also I would add that never in my life have I passed such happy days as I + am spending at present. ‘Tis as though God had blessed me with a home and + a family of my own! Yes, you are my little daughter, beloved. But why + mention the four sorry roubles that I sent you? You needed them; I know + that from Thedora herself, and it will always be a particular pleasure to + me to gratify you in anything. It will always be my one happiness in life. + Pray, therefore, leave me that happiness, and do not seek to cross me in + it. Things are not as you suppose. I have now reached the sunshine since, + in the first place, I am living so close to you as almost to be with you + (which is a great consolation to my mind), while, in the second place, a + neighbour of mine named Rataziaev (the retired official who gives the + literary parties) has today invited me to tea. This evening, therefore, + there will be a gathering at which we shall discuss literature! Think of + that my darling! Well, goodbye now. I have written this without any + definite aim in my mind, but solely to assure you of my welfare. Through + Theresa I have received your message that you need an embroidered cloak to + wear, so I will go and purchase one. Yes, tomorrow I mean to purchase that + embroidered cloak, and so give myself the pleasure of having satisfied one + of your wants. I know where to go for such a garment. For the time being I + remain your sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 22nd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I have to tell you that a sad event + has happened in this house—an event to excite one’s utmost pity. + This morning, about five o’clock, one of Gorshkov’s children died of + scarlatina, or something of the kind. I have been to pay the parents a + visit of condolence, and found them living in the direst poverty and + disorder. Nor is that surprising, seeing that the family lives in a single + room, with only a screen to divide it for decency’s sake. Already the + coffin was standing in their midst—a plain but decent shell which + had been bought ready-made. The child, they told me, had been a boy of + nine, and full of promise. What a pitiful spectacle! Though not weeping, + the mother, poor woman, looked broken with grief. After all, to have one + burden the less on their shoulders may prove a relief, though there are + still two children left—a babe at the breast and a little girl of + six! How painful to see these suffering children, and to be unable to help + them! The father, clad in an old, dirty frockcoat, was seated on a + dilapidated chair. Down his cheeks there were coursing tears—though + less through grief than owing to a long-standing affliction of the eyes. + He was so thin, too! Always he reddens in the face when he is addressed, + and becomes too confused to answer. A little girl, his daughter, was + leaning against the coffin—her face looking so worn and thoughtful, + poor mite! Do you know, I cannot bear to see a child look thoughtful. On + the floor there lay a rag doll, but she was not playing with it as, + motionless, she stood there with her finger to her lips. Even a bon-bon + which the landlady had given her she was not eating. Is it not all sad, + sad, Barbara? + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 25th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—I return you your book. In my opinion + it is a worthless one, and I would rather not have it in my possession. + Why do you save up your money to buy such trash? Except in jest, do such + books really please you? However, you have now promised to send me + something else to read. I will share the cost of it. Now, farewell until + we meet again. I have nothing more to say. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 26th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAR LITTLE BARBARA—To tell you the truth, I myself have not read + the book of which you speak. That is to say, though I began to read it, I + soon saw that it was nonsense, and written only to make people laugh. + “However,” thought I, “it is at least a CHEERFUL work, and so may please + Barbara.” That is why I sent it you. + </p> + <p> + Rataziaev has now promised to give me something really literary to read; + so you shall soon have your book, my darling. He is a man who reflects; he + is a clever fellow, as well as himself a writer—such a writer! His + pen glides along with ease, and in such a style (even when he is writing + the most ordinary, the most insignificant of articles) that I have often + remarked upon the fact, both to Phaldoni and to Theresa. Often, too, I go + to spend an evening with him. He reads aloud to us until five o’clock in + the morning, and we listen to him. It is a revelation of things rather + than a reading. It is charming, it is like a bouquet of flowers—there + is a bouquet of flowers in every line of each page. Besides, he is such an + approachable, courteous, kind-hearted fellow! What am I compared with him? + Why, nothing, simply nothing! He is a man of reputation, whereas I—well, + I do not exist at all. Yet he condescends to my level. At this very moment + I am copying out a document for him. But you must not think that he finds + any DIFFICULTY in condescending to me, who am only a copyist. No, you must + not believe the base gossip that you may hear. I do copying work for him + simply in order to please myself, as well as that he may notice me—a + thing that always gives me pleasure. I appreciate the delicacy of his + position. He is a good—a very good—man, and an unapproachable + writer. + </p> + <p> + What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara—what a splendid thing! + This I learnt before I had known Rataziaev even for three days. It + strengthens and instructs the heart of man.... No matter what there be in + the world, you will find it all written down in Rataziaev’s works. And so + well written down, too! Literature is a sort of picture—a sort of + picture or mirror. It connotes at once passion, expression, fine + criticism, good learning, and a document. Yes, I have learned this from + Rataziaev himself. I can assure you, Barbara, that if only you could be + sitting among us, and listening to the talk (while, with the rest of us, + you smoked a pipe), and were to hear those present begin to argue and + dispute concerning different matters, you would feel of as little account + among them as I do; for I myself figure there only as a blockhead, and + feel ashamed, since it takes me a whole evening to think of a single word + to interpolate—and even then the word will not come! In a case like + that a man regrets that, as the proverb has it, he should have reached + man’s estate but not man’s understanding.... What do I do in my spare + time? I sleep like a fool, though I would far rather be occupied with + something else—say, with eating or writing, since the one is useful + to oneself, and the other is beneficial to one’s fellows. You should see + how much money these fellows contrive to save! How much, for instance, + does not Rataziaev lay by? A few days’ writing, I am told, can earn him as + much as three hundred roubles! Indeed, if a man be a writer of short + stories or anything else that is interesting, he can sometimes pocket five + hundred roubles, or a thousand, at a time! Think of it, Barbara! Rataziaev + has by him a small manuscript of verses, and for it he is asking—what + do you think? Seven thousand roubles! Why, one could buy a whole house for + that sum! He has even refused five thousand for a manuscript, and on that + occasion I reasoned with him, and advised him to accept the five thousand. + But it was of no use. “For,” said he, “they will soon offer me seven + thousand,” and kept to his point, for he is a man of some determination. + </p> + <p> + Suppose, now, that I were to give you an extract from “Passion in Italy” + (as another work of his is called). Read this, dearest Barbara, and judge + for yourself: + </p> + <p> + “Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had welled until + it had reached boiling point. + </p> + <p> + “‘Countess,’ he cried, ‘do you know how terrible is this adoration of + mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have not deceived me—I + love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a madman might! All the blood that + is in your husband’s body could never quench the furious, surging rapture + that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the all-destroying, + infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! Oh Zinaida, my + Zinaida!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Vladimir!’ she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “‘My Zinaida!’ cried the enraptured Smileski once more. + </p> + <p> + “His breath was coming in sharp, broken pants. The lamp of love was + burning brightly on the altar of passion, and searing the hearts of the + two unfortunate sufferers. + </p> + <p> + “‘Vladimir!’ again she whispered in her intoxication, while her bosom + heaved, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. + </p> + <p> + “Thus was a new and dread union consummated. + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour later the aged Count entered his wife’s boudoir. + </p> + <p> + “‘How now, my love?’ said he. ‘Surely it is for some welcome guest beyond + the common that you have had the samovar [Tea-urn.] thus prepared?’ And he + smote her lightly on the cheek.” + </p> + <p> + What think you of THAT, Barbara? True, it is a little too outspoken—there + can be no doubt of that; yet how grand it is, how splendid! With your + permission I will also quote you an extract from Rataziaev’s story, Ermak + and Zuleika: + </p> + <p> + “‘You love me, Zuleika? Say again that you love me, you love me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I DO love you, Ermak,’ whispered Zuleika. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then by heaven and earth I thank you! By heaven and earth you have made + me happy! You have given me all, all that my tortured soul has for + immemorial years been seeking! ‘Tis for this that you have led me hither, + my guiding star—‘tis for this that you have conducted me to the + Girdle of Stone! To all the world will I now show my Zuleika, and no man, + demon or monster of Hell, shall bid me nay! Oh, if men would but + understand the mysterious passions of her tender heart, and see the poem + which lurks in each of her little tears! Suffer me to dry those tears with + my kisses! Suffer me to drink of those heavenly drops, Oh being who art + not of this earth!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ermak,’ said Zuleika, ‘the world is cruel, and men are unjust. But LET + them drive us from their midst—let them judge us, my beloved Ermak! + What has a poor maiden who was reared amid the snows of Siberia to do with + their cold, icy, self-sufficient world? Men cannot understand me, my + darling, my sweetheart.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Is that so? Then shall the sword of the Cossacks sing and whistle over + their heads!’ cried Ermak with a furious look in his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + What must Ermak have felt when he learnt that his Zuleika had been + murdered, Barbara?—that, taking advantages of the cover of night, + the blind old Kouchoum had, in Ermak’s absence, broken into the latter’s + tent, and stabbed his own daughter in mistake for the man who had robbed + him of sceptre and crown? + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh that I had a stone whereon to whet my sword!’ cried Ermak in the + madness of his wrath as he strove to sharpen his steel blade upon the + enchanted rock. ‘I would have his blood, his blood! I would tear him limb + from limb, the villain!’” + </p> + <p> + Then Ermak, unable to survive the loss of his Zuleika, throws himself into + the Irtisch, and the tale comes to an end. + </p> + <p> + Here, again, is another short extract—this time written in a more + comical vein, to make people laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Ivan Prokofievitch Zheltopuzh? He is the man who took a piece + out of Prokofi Ivanovitch’s leg. Ivan’s character is one of the rugged + order, and therefore, one that is rather lacking in virtue. Yet he has a + passionate relish for radishes and honey. Once he also possessed a friend + named Pelagea Antonovna. Do you know Pelagea Antonovna? She is the woman + who always puts on her petticoat wrong side outwards.” + </p> + <p> + What humour, Barbara—what purest humour! We rocked with laughter + when he read it aloud to us. Yes, that is the kind of man he is. Possibly + the passage is a trifle over-frolicsome, but at least it is harmless, and + contains no freethought or liberal ideas. In passing, I may say that + Rataziaev is not only a supreme writer, but also a man of upright life—which + is more than can be said for most writers. + </p> + <p> + What, do you think, is an idea that sometimes enters my head? In fact, + what if I myself were to write something? How if suddenly a book were to + make its appearance in the world bearing the title of “The Poetical Works + of Makar Dievushkin”? What THEN, my angel? How should you view, should you + receive, such an event? I may say of myself that never, after my book had + appeared, should I have the hardihood to show my face on the Nevski + Prospect; for would it not be too dreadful to hear every one saying, “Here + comes the literateur and poet, Dievushkin—yes, it is Dievushkin + himself.” What, in such a case, should I do with my feet (for I may tell + you that almost always my shoes are patched, or have just been resoled, + and therefore look anything but becoming)? To think that the great writer + Dievushkin should walk about in patched footgear! If a duchess or a + countess should recognise me, what would she say, poor woman? Perhaps, + though, she would not notice my shoes at all, since it may reasonably be + supposed that countesses do not greatly occupy themselves with footgear, + especially with the footgear of civil service officials (footgear may + differ from footgear, it must be remembered). Besides, I should find that + the countess had heard all about me, for my friends would have betrayed me + to her—Rataziaev among the first of them, seeing that he often goes + to visit Countess V., and practically lives at her house. She is said to + be a woman of great intellect and wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev! + </p> + <p> + But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse myself and to + divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This is a long epistle that I + am sending you, but the reason is that today I feel in good spirits after + dining at Rataziaev’s. There I came across a novel which I hardly know how + to describe to you. Do not think the worse of me on that account, even + though I bring you another book instead (for I certainly mean to bring + one). The novel in question was one of Paul de Kock’s, and not a novel for + you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your eyes. In fact, it is + said to have greatly offended the critics of St. Petersburg. Also, I am + sending you a pound of bonbons—bought specially for yourself. Each + time that you eat one, beloved, remember the sender. Only, do not bite the + iced ones, but suck them gently, lest they make your teeth ache. Perhaps, + too, you like comfits? Well, write and tell me if it is so. Goodbye, + goodbye. Christ watch over you, my darling!—Always your faithful + friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—Thedora tells me that, should I wish, + there are some people who will be glad to help me by obtaining me an + excellent post as governess in a certain house. What think you, my friend? + Shall I go or not? Of course, I should then cease to be a burden to you, + and the post appears to be a comfortable one. On the other hand, the idea + of entering a strange house appals me. The people in it are landed gentry, + and they will begin to ask me questions, and to busy themselves about me. + What answers shall I then return? You see, I am now so unused to society—so + shy! I like to live in a corner to which I have long grown used. Yes, the + place with which one is familiar is always the best. Even if for companion + one has but sorrow, that place will still be the best.... God alone knows + what duties the post will entail. Perhaps I shall merely be required to + act as nursemaid; and in any case, I hear that the governess there has + been changed three times in two years. For God’s sake, Makar Alexievitch, + advise me whether to go or not. Why do you never come near me now? Do let + my eyes have an occasional sight of you. Mass on Sundays is almost the + only time when we see one another. How retiring you have become! So also + have I, even though, in a way, I am your kinswoman. You must have ceased + to love me, Makar Alexievitch. I spend many a weary hour because of it. + Sometimes, when dusk is falling, I find myself lonely—oh, so lonely! + Thedora has gone out somewhere, and I sit here and think, and think, and + think. I remember all the past, its joys and its sorrows. It passes before + my eyes in detail, it glimmers at me as out of a mist; and as it does so, + well-known faces appear, which seem actually to be present with me in this + room! Most frequently of all, I see my mother. Ah, the dreams that come to + me! I feel that my health is breaking, so weak am I. When this morning I + arose, sickness took me until I vomited and vomited. Yes, I feel, I know, + that death is approaching. Who will bury me when it has come? Who will + visit my tomb? Who will sorrow for me? And now it is in a strange place, + in the house of a stranger, that I may have to die! Yes, in a corner which + I do not know!... My God, how sad a thing is life!... Why do you send me + comfits to eat? Whence do you get the money to buy them? Ah, for God’s + sake keep the money, keep the money. Thedora has sold a carpet which I + have made. She got fifty roubles for it, which is very good—I had + expected less. Of the fifty roubles I shall give Thedora three, and with + the remainder make myself a plain, warm dress. Also, I am going to make + you a waistcoat—to make it myself, and out of good material. + </p> + <p> + Also, Thedora has brought me a book—“The Stories of Bielkin”—which + I will forward you, if you would care to read it. Only, do not soil it, + nor yet retain it, for it does not belong to me. It is by Pushkin. Two + years ago I read these stories with my mother, and it would hurt me to + read them again. If you yourself have any books, pray let me have them—so + long as they have not been obtained from Rataziaev. Probably he will be + giving you one of his own works when he has had one printed. How is it + that his compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I think them + SUCH rubbish! + —Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! When feeling sad, I + always like to talk of something, for it acts upon me like medicine—I + begin to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what is preying upon my + heart. Good bye, good-bye, my friend—Your own + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—Away with melancholy! Really, beloved, + you ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you allow such thoughts to + enter your head? Really and truly you are quite well; really and truly you + are, my darling. Why, you are blooming—simply blooming. True, I see + a certain touch of pallor in your face, but still you are blooming. A fig + for dreams and visions! Yes, for shame, dearest! Drive away those fancies; + try to despise them. Why do I sleep so well? Why am I never ailing? Look + at ME, beloved. I live well, I sleep peacefully, I retain my health, I can + ruffle it with my juniors. In fact, it is a pleasure to see me. Come, + come, then, sweetheart! Let us have no more of this. I know that that + little head of yours is capable of any fancy—that all too easily you + take to dreaming and repining; but for my sake, cease to do so. + </p> + <p> + Are you to go to these people, you ask me? Never! No, no, again no! How + could you think of doing such a thing as taking a journey? I will not + allow it—I intend to combat your intention with all my might. I will + sell my frockcoat, and walk the streets in my shirt sleeves, rather than + let you be in want. But no, Barbara. I know you, I know you. This is + merely a trick, merely a trick. And probably Thedora alone is to blame for + it. She appears to be a foolish old woman, and to be able to persuade you + to do anything. Do not believe her, my dearest. I am sure that you know + what is what, as well as SHE does. Eh, sweetheart? She is a stupid, + quarrelsome, rubbish-talking old woman who brought her late husband to the + grave. Probably she has been plaguing you as much as she did him. No, no, + dearest; you must not take this step. What should I do then? What would + there be left for ME to do? Pray put the idea out of your head. What is it + you lack here? I cannot feel sufficiently overjoyed to be near you, while, + for your part, you love me well, and can live your life here as quietly as + you wish. Read or sew, whichever you like—or read and do not sew. + Only, do not desert me. Try, yourself, to imagine how things would seem + after you had gone. Here am I sending you books, and later we will go for + a walk. Come, come, then, my Barbara! Summon to your aid your reason, and + cease to babble of trifles. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I can I will come and see you, and then you shall tell me the + whole story. This will not do, sweetheart; this certainly will not do. Of + course, I know that I am not an educated man, and have received but a + sorry schooling, and have had no inclination for it, and think too much of + Rataziaev, if you will; but he is my friend, and therefore, I must put in + a word or two for him. Yes, he is a splendid writer. Again and again I + assert that he writes magnificently. I do not agree with you about his + works, and never shall. He writes too ornately, too laconically, with too + great a wealth of imagery and imagination. Perhaps you have read him + without insight, Barbara? Or perhaps you were out of spirits at the time, + or angry with Thedora about something, or worried about some mischance? + Ah, but you should read him sympathetically, and, best of all, at a time + when you are feeling happy and contented and pleasantly disposed—for + instance, when you have a bonbon or two in your mouth. Yes, that is the + way to read Rataziaev. I do not dispute (indeed, who would do so?) that + better writers than he exist—even far better; but they are good, and + he is good too—they write well, and he writes well. It is chiefly + for his own sake that he writes, and he is to be approved for so doing. + </p> + <p> + Now goodbye, dearest. More I cannot write, for I must hurry away to + business. Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you!—Your + faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S—Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it through, + this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH—No, no, my friend, I must not go on living + near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come to the conclusion + that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so good a post. I should at + least have an assured crust of bread; I might at least set to work to earn + my employers’ favour, and even try to change my character if required to + do so. Of course it is a sad and sorry thing to have to live among + strangers, and to be forced to seek their patronage, and to conceal and + constrain one’s own personality—but God will help me. I must not + remain forever a recluse, for similar chances have come my way before. I + remember how, when a little girl at school, I used to go home on Sundays + and spend the time in frisking and dancing about. Sometimes my mother + would chide me for so doing, but I did not care, for my heart was too + joyous, and my spirits too buoyant, for that. Yet as the evening of Sunday + came on, a sadness as of death would overtake me, for at nine o’clock I + had to return to school, where everything was cold and strange and severe—where + the governesses, on Mondays, lost their tempers, and nipped my ears, and + made me cry. On such occasions I would retire to a corner and weep alone; + concealing my tears lest I should be called lazy. Yet it was not because I + had to study that I used to weep, and in time I grew more used to things, + and, after my schooldays were over, shed tears only when I was parting + with friends... + It is not right for me to live in dependence upon you. The thought + tortures me. I tell you this frankly, for the reason that frankness with + you has become a habit. Cannot I see that daily, at earliest dawn, Thedora + rises to do washing and scrubbing, and remains working at it until late at + night, even though her poor old bones must be aching for want of rest? + Cannot I also see that YOU are ruining yourself for me, and hoarding your + last kopeck that you may spend it on my behalf? You ought not so to act, + my friend, even though you write that you would rather sell your all than + let me want for anything. I believe in you, my friend—I entirely + believe in your good heart; but, you say that to me now (when, perhaps, + you have received some unexpected sum or gratuity) and there is still the + future to be thought of. You yourself know that I am always ailing—that + I cannot work as you do, glad though I should be of any work if I could + get it; so what else is there for me to do? To sit and repine as I watch + you and Thedora? But how would that be of any use to you? AM I necessary + to you, comrade of mine? HAVE I ever done you any good? Though I am bound + to you with my whole soul, and love you dearly and strongly and + wholeheartedly, a bitter fate has ordained that that love should be all + that I have to give—that I should be unable, by creating for you + subsistence, to repay you for all your kindness. Do not, therefore, detain + me longer, but think the matter out, and give me your opinion on it. In + expectation of which I remain your sweetheart, + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 1st. + </h2> + <p> + Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!—What you say is sheer rubbish. Stay here, + rather, and put such thoughts out of your head. None of what you suppose + is true. I can see for myself that it is not. Whatsoever you lack here, + you have but to ask me for it. Here you love and are loved, and we might + easily be happy and contented together. What could you want more? What + have you to do with strangers? You cannot possibly know what strangers are + like. I know it, though, and could have told you if you had asked me. + There is a stranger whom I know, and whose bread I have eaten. He is a + cruel man, Barbara—a man so bad that he would be unworthy of your + little heart, and would soon tear it to pieces with his railings and + reproaches and black looks. On the other hand, you are safe and well here—you + are as safe as though you were sheltered in a nest. Besides, you would, as + it were, leave me with my head gone. For what should I have to do when you + were gone? What could I, an old man, find to do? Are you not necessary to + me? Are you not useful to me? Eh? Surely you do not think that you are not + useful? You are of great use to me, Barbara, for you exercise a beneficial + influence upon my life. Even at this moment, as I think of you, I feel + cheered, for always I can write letters to you, and put into them what I + am feeling, and receive from you detailed answers.... I have bought you a + wardrobe, and also procured you a bonnet; so you see that you have only to + give me a commission for it to be executed.... No—in what way are + you not useful? What should I do if I were deserted in my old age? What + would become of me? Perhaps you never thought of that, Barbara—perhaps + you never said to yourself, “How could HE get on without me?” You see, I + have grown so accustomed to you. What else would it end in, if you were to + go away? Why, in my hiking to the Neva’s bank and doing away with myself. + Ah, Barbara, darling, I can see that you want me to be taken away to the + Volkovo Cemetery in a broken-down old hearse, with some poor outcast of + the streets to accompany my coffin as chief mourner, and the gravediggers + to heap my body with clay, and depart and leave me there. How wrong of + you, how wrong of you, my beloved! Yes, by heavens, how wrong of you! I am + returning you your book, little friend; and, if you were to ask of me my + opinion of it, I should say that never before in my life had I read a book + so splendid. I keep wondering how I have hitherto contrived to remain such + an owl. For what have I ever done? From what wilds did I spring into + existence? I KNOW nothing—I know simply NOTHING. My ignorance is + complete. Frankly, I am not an educated man, for until now I have read + scarcely a single book—only “A Portrait of Man” (a clever enough + work in its way), “The Boy Who Could Play Many Tunes Upon Bells”, and + “Ivik’s Storks”. That is all. But now I have also read “The Station + Overseer” in your little volume; and it is wonderful to think that one may + live and yet be ignorant of the fact that under one’s very nose there may + be a book in which one’s whole life is described as in a picture. Never + should I have guessed that, as soon as ever one begins to read such a + book, it sets one on both to remember and to consider and to foretell + events. Another reason why I liked this book so much is that, though, in + the case of other works (however clever they be), one may read them, yet + remember not a word of them (for I am a man naturally dull of + comprehension, and unable to read works of any great importance),—although, + as I say, one may read such works, one reads such a book as YOURS as + easily as though it had been written by oneself, and had taken possession + of one’s heart, and turned it inside out for inspection, and were + describing it in detail as a matter of perfect simplicity. Why, I might + almost have written the book myself! Why not, indeed? I can feel just as + the people in the book do, and find myself in positions precisely similar + to those of, say, the character Samson Virin. In fact, how many + good-hearted wretches like Virin are there not walking about amongst us? + How easily, too, it is all described! I assure you, my darling, that I + almost shed tears when I read that Virin so took to drink as to lose his + memory, become morose, and spend whole days over his liquor; as also that + he choked with grief and wept bitterly when, rubbing his eyes with his + dirty hand, he bethought him of his wandering lamb, his daughter Dunasha! + How natural, how natural! You should read the book for yourself. The thing + is actually alive. Even I can see that; even I can realise that it is a + picture cut from the very life around me. In it I see our own Theresa (to + go no further) and the poor tchinovnik—who is just such a man as + this Samson Virin, except for his surname of Gorshkov. The book describes + just what might happen to ourselves—to myself in particular. Even a + count who lives in the Nevski Prospect or in Naberezhnaia Street might + have a similar experience, though he might APPEAR to be different, owing + to the fact that his life is cast on a higher plane. Yes, just the same + things might happen to him—just the same things.... Here you are + wishing to go away and leave us; yet, be careful lest it would not be I + who had to pay the penalty of your doing so. For you might ruin both + yourself and me. For the love of God, put away these thoughts from you, my + darling, and do not torture me in vain. How could you, my poor little + unfledged nestling, find yourself food, and defend yourself from + misfortune, and ward off the wiles of evil men? Think better of it, + Barbara, and pay no more heed to foolish advice and calumny, but read your + book again, and read it with attention. It may do you much good. + </p> + <p> + I have spoken of Rataziaev’s “The Station Overseer”. However, the author + has told me that the work is old-fashioned, since, nowadays, books are + issued with illustrations and embellishments of different sorts (though I + could not make out all that he said). Pushkin he adjudges a splendid poet, + and one who has done honour to Holy Russia. Read your book again, Barbara, + and follow my advice, and make an old man happy. The Lord God Himself will + reward you. Yes, He will surely reward you.—Your faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Today Thedora came to me with fifteen + roubles in silver. How glad was the poor woman when I gave her three of + them! I am writing to you in great haste, for I am busy cutting out a + waistcoat to send to you—buff, with a pattern of flowers. Also I am + sending you a book of stories; some of which I have read myself, + particularly one called “The Cloak.” ... You invite me to go to the + theatre with you. But will it not cost too much? Of course we might sit in + the gallery. It is a long time (indeed I cannot remember when I last did + so) since I visited a theatre! Yet I cannot help fearing that such an + amusement is beyond our means. Thedora keeps nodding her head, and saying + that you have taken to living above your income. I myself divine the same + thing by the amount which you have spent upon me. Take care, dear friend, + that misfortune does not come of it, for Thedora has also informed me of + certain rumours concerning your inability to meet your landlady’s bills. + In fact, I am very anxious about you. Now, goodbye, for I must hasten away + to see about another matter—about the changing of the ribands on my + bonnet. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Do you know, if we go to the theatre, I think that I shall wear + my new hat and black mantilla. Will that not look nice? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 7th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA—SO much for yesterday! Yes, dearest, we + have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly + bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her with + all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my first sight + of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the theatre. In those + days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young men—a most + noisy crew—and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, to the + theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, and only + assisted them for company’s sake. How those fellows talked to me of this + actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire band of them + (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would betake + themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended to the + gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the actress in + question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after we had + returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on talking about + her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to + be in love with “the canary-bird of their hearts.” My defenseless self, + too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. What a + figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the gallery! Yet, I + never got a sight of more than just a corner of the curtain, but had to + content myself with listening. She had a fine, resounding, mellow voice + like a nightingale’s, and we all of us used to clap our hands loudly, and + to shout at the top of our lungs. In short, we came very near to being + ejected. On the first occasion I went home walking as in a mist, with a + single rouble left in my pocket, and an interval of ten clear days + confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, what think you, dearest? The very + next day, before going to work, I called at a French perfumer’s, and spent + my whole remaining capital on some eau-de-Cologne and scented soap! Why I + did so I do not know. Nor did I dine at home that day, but kept walking + and walking past her windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the + Nevski Prospect). At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to rest + a short hour before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect and resuming + my vigil before her windows. For a month and a half I kept this up—dangling + in her train. Sometimes I would hire cabs, and discharge them in view of + her abode; until at length I had entirely ruined myself, and got into + debt. Then I fell out of love with her—I grew weary of the + pursuit.... You see, therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a + decent man. In those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY + young. + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 8th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—The book which I received from you on + the 6th of this month I now hasten to return, while at the same time + hastening also to explain matters to you in this accompanying letter. What + a misfortune, my beloved, that you should have brought me to such a pass! + Our lots in life are apportioned by the Almighty according to our human + deserts. To such a one He assigns a life in a general’s epaulets or as a + privy councillor—to such a one, I say, He assigns a life of command; + whereas to another one, He allots only a life of unmurmuring toil and + suffering. These things are calculated according to a man’s CAPACITY. One + man may be capable of one thing, and another of another, and their several + capacities are ordered by the Lord God himself. I have now been thirty + years in the public service, and have fulfilled my duties irreproachably, + remained abstemious, and never been detected in any unbecoming behaviour. + As a citizen, I may confess—I confess it freely—I have been + guilty of certain shortcomings; yet those shortcomings have been combined + with certain virtues. I am respected by my superiors, and even his + Excellency has had no fault to find with me; and though I have never been + shown any special marks of favour, I know that every one finds me at least + satisfactory. Also, my writing is sufficiently legible and clear. Neither + too rounded nor too fine, it is a running hand, yet always suitable. Of + our staff only Ivan Prokofievitch writes a similar hand. Thus have I lived + till the grey hairs of my old age; yet I can think of no serious fault + committed. Of course, no one is free from MINOR faults. Everyone has some + of them, and you among the rest, my beloved. But in grave or in audacious + offences never have I been detected, nor in infringements of regulations, + nor in breaches of the public peace. No, never! This you surely know, even + as the author of your book must have known it. Yes, he also must have + known it when he sat down to write. I had not expected this of you, my + Barbara. I should never have expected it. + </p> + <p> + What? In future I am not to go on living peacefully in my little corner, + poor though that corner be I am not to go on living, as the proverb has + it, without muddying the water, or hurting any one, or forgetting the fear + of the Lord God and of oneself? I am not to see, forsooth, that no man + does me an injury, or breaks into my home—I am not to take care that + all shall go well with me, or that I have clothes to wear, or that my + shoes do not require mending, or that I be given work to do, or that I + possess sufficient meat and drink? Is it nothing that, where the pavement + is rotten, I have to walk on tiptoe to save my boots? If I write to you + overmuch concerning myself, is it concerning ANOTHER man, rather, that I + ought to write—concerning HIS wants, concerning HIS lack of tea to + drink (and all the world needs tea)? Has it ever been my custom to pry + into other men’s mouths, to see what is being put into them? Have I ever + been known to offend any one in that respect? No, no, beloved! Why should + I desire to insult other folks when they are not molesting ME? Let me give + you an example of what I mean. A man may go on slaving and slaving in the + public service, and earn the respect of his superiors (for what it is + worth), and then, for no visible reason at all, find himself made a fool + of. Of course he may break out now and then (I am not now referring only + to drunkenness), and (for example) buy himself a new pair of shoes, and + take pleasure in seeing his feet looking well and smartly shod. Yes, I + myself have known what it is to feel like that (I write this in good + faith). Yet I am nonetheless astonished that Thedor Thedorovitch should + neglect what is being said about him, and take no steps to defend himself. + True, he is only a subordinate official, and sometimes loves to rate and + scold; yet why should he not do so—why should he not indulge in a + little vituperation when he feels like it? Suppose it to be NECESSARY, for + FORM’S sake, to scold, and to set everyone right, and to shower around + abuse (for, between ourselves, Barbara, our friend cannot get on WITHOUT + abuse—so much so that every one humours him, and does things behind + his back)? Well, since officials differ in rank, and every official + demands that he shall be allowed to abuse his fellow officials in + proportion to his rank, it follows that the TONE also of official abuse + should become divided into ranks, and thus accord with the natural order + of things. All the world is built upon the system that each one of us + shall have to yield precedence to some other one, as well as to enjoy a + certain power of abusing his fellows. Without such a provision the world + could not get on at all, and simple chaos would ensue. Yet I am surprised + that our Thedor should continue to overlook insults of the kind that he + endures. + </p> + <p> + Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will my doing + of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, or to buy me a new + pair of shoes? No, Barbara. Men only read the documents, and then require + me to write more. Sometimes a man will hide himself away, and not show his + face abroad, for the mere reason that, though he has done nothing to be + ashamed of, he dreads the gossip and slandering which are everywhere to be + encountered. If his civic and family life have to do with literature, + everything will be printed and read and laughed over and discussed; until + at length, he hardly dare show his face in the street at all, seeing that + he will have been described by report as recognisable through his gait + alone! Then, when he has amended his ways, and grown gentler (even though + he still continues to be loaded with official work), he will come to be + accounted a virtuous, decent citizen who has deserved well of his + comrades, rendered obedience to his superiors, wished no one any evil, + preserved the fear of God in his heart, and died lamented. Yet would it + not be better, instead of letting the poor fellow die, to give him a cloak + while yet he is ALIVE—to give it to this same Thedor Thedorovitch + (that is to say, to myself)? Yes, ‘twere far better if, on hearing the + tale of his subordinate’s virtues, the chief of the department were to + call the deserving man into his office, and then and there to promote him, + and to grant him an increase of salary. Thus vice would be punished, + virtue would prevail, and the staff of that department would live in peace + together. Here we have an example from everyday, commonplace life. How, + therefore, could you bring yourself to send me that book, my beloved? It + is a badly conceived work, Barbara, and also unreal, for the reason that + in creation such a tchinovnik does not exist. No, again I protest against + it, little Barbara; again I protest.—Your most humble, devoted + servant, + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Your latest conduct and letters had + frightened me, and left me thunderstruck and plunged in doubt, until what + you have said about Thedor explained the situation. Why despair and go + into such frenzies, Makar Alexievitch? Your explanations only partially + satisfy me. Perhaps I did wrong to insist upon accepting a good situation + when it was offered me, seeing that from my last experience in that way I + derived a shock which was anything but a matter for jesting. You say also + that your love for me has compelled you to hide yourself in retirement. + Now, how much I am indebted to you I realised when you told me that you + were spending for my benefit the sum which you are always reported to have + laid by at your bankers; but, now that I have learned that you never + possessed such a fund, but that, on hearing of my destitute plight, and + being moved by it, you decided to spend upon me the whole of your salary—even + to forestall it—and when I had fallen ill, actually to sell your + clothes—when I learned all this I found myself placed in the + harassing position of not knowing how to accept it all, nor what to think + of it. Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought to have stopped at your first acts + of charity—acts inspired by sympathy and the love of kinsfolk, + rather than have continued to squander your means upon what was + unnecessary. Yes, you have betrayed our friendship, Makar Alexievitch, in + that you have not been open with me; and, now that I see that your last + coin has been spent upon dresses and bon-bons and excursions and books and + visits to the theatre for me, I weep bitter tears for my unpardonable + improvidence in having accepted these things without giving so much as a + thought to your welfare. Yes, all that you have done to give me pleasure + has become converted into a source of grief, and left behind it only + useless regret. Of late I have remarked that you were looking depressed; + and though I felt fearful that something unfortunate was impending, what + has happened would otherwise never have entered my head. To think that + your better sense should so play you false, Makar Alexievitch! What will + people think of you, and say of you? Who will want to know you? You whom, + like everyone else, I have valued for your goodness of heart and modesty + and good sense—YOU, I say, have now given way to an unpleasant vice + of which you seem never before to have been guilty. What were my feelings + when Thedora informed me that you had been discovered drunk in the street, + and taken home by the police? Why, I felt petrified with astonishment—although, + in view of the fact that you had failed me for four days, I had been + expecting some such extraordinary occurrence. Also, have you thought what + your superiors will say of you when they come to learn the true reason of + your absence? You say that everyone is laughing at you, that every one has + learnt of the bond which exists between us, and that your neighbours + habitually refer to me with a sneer. Pay no attention to this, Makar + Alexievitch; for the love of God, be comforted. Also, the incident between + you and the officers has much alarmed me, although I had heard certain + rumours concerning it. Pray explain to me what it means. You write, too, + that you have been afraid to be open with me, for the reason that your + confessions might lose you my friendship. Also, you say that you are in + despair at the thought of being unable to help me in my illness, owing to + the fact that you have sold everything which might have maintained me, and + preserved me in sickness, as well as that you have borrowed as much as it + is possible for you to borrow, and are daily experiencing unpleasantness + with your landlady. Well, in failing to reveal all this to me you chose + the worse course. Now, however, I know all. You have forced me to + recognise that I have been the cause of your unhappy plight, as well as + that my own conduct has brought upon myself a twofold measure of sorrow. + The fact leaves me thunderstruck, Makar Alexievitch. Ah, friend, an + infectious disease is indeed a misfortune, for now we poor and miserable + folk must perforce keep apart from one another, lest the infection be + increased. Yes, I have brought upon you calamities which never before in + your humble, solitary life you had experienced. This tortures and exhausts + me more than I can tell to think of. + </p> + <p> + Write to me quite frankly. Tell me how you came to embark upon such a + course of conduct. Comfort, oh, comfort me if you can. It is not self-love + that prompts me to speak of my own comforting, but my friendship and love + for you, which will never fade from my heart. Goodbye. I await your answer + with impatience. You have thought but poorly of me, Makar Alexievitch.—Your + friend and lover, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY PRICELESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—What am I to say to you, now that + all is over, and we are gradually returning to our old position? You say + that you are anxious as to what will be thought of me. Let me tell you + that the dearest thing in life to me is my self-respect; wherefore, in + informing you of my misfortunes and misconduct, I would add that none of + my superiors know of my doings, nor ever will know of them, and that + therefore, I still enjoy a measure of respect in that quarter. Only one + thing do I fear—I fear gossip. Garrulous though my landlady be, she + said but little when, with the aid of your ten roubles, I today paid her + part of her account; and as for the rest of my companions, they do not + matter at all. So long as I have not borrowed money from them, I need pay + them no attention. To conclude my explanations, let me tell you that I + value your respect for me above everything in the world, and have found it + my greatest comfort during this temporary distress of mine. Thank God, the + first shock of things has abated, now that you have agreed not to look + upon me as faithless and an egotist simply because I have deceived you. I + wish to hold you to myself, for the reason that I cannot bear to part with + you, and love you as my guardian angel.... I have now returned to work, + and am applying myself diligently to my duties. Also, yesterday Evstafi + Ivanovitch exchanged a word or two with me. Yet I will not conceal from + you the fact that my debts are crushing me down, and that my wardrobe is + in a sorry state. At the same time, these things do not REALLY matter and + I would bid you not despair about them. Send me, however, another + half-rouble if you can (though that half-rouble will stab me to the heart—stab + me with the thought that it is not I who am helping you, but YOU who are + helping ME). Thedora has done well to get those fifteen roubles for you. + At the moment, fool of an old man that I am, I have no hope of acquiring + any more money; but as soon as ever I do so, I will write to you and let + you know all about it. What chiefly worries me is the fear of gossip. + Goodbye, little angel. I kiss your hands, and beseech you to regain your + health. If this is not a detailed letter, the reason is that I must soon + be starting for the office, in order that, by strict application to duty, + I may make amends for the past. Further information concerning my doings + (as well as concerning that affair with the officers) must be deferred + until tonight.—Your affectionate and respectful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 28th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,—It is YOU who have committed a fault—and + one which must weigh heavily upon your conscience. Indeed, your last + letter has amazed and confounded me,—so much so that, on once more + looking into the recesses of my heart, I perceive that I was perfectly + right in what I did. Of course I am not now referring to my debauch (no, + indeed!), but to the fact that I love you, and to the fact that it is + unwise of me to love you—very unwise. You know not how matters + stand, my darling. You know not why I am BOUND to love you. Otherwise you + would not say all that you do. Yet I am persuaded that it is your head + rather than your heart that is speaking. I am certain that your heart + thinks very differently. + </p> + <p> + What occurred that night between myself and those officers I scarcely + know, I scarcely remember. You must bear in mind that for some time past I + have been in terrible distress—that for a whole month I have been, + so to speak, hanging by a single thread. Indeed, my position has been most + pitiable. Though I hid myself from you, my landlady was forever shouting + and railing at me. This would not have mattered a jot—the horrible + old woman might have shouted as much as she pleased—had it not been + that, in the first place, there was the disgrace of it, and, in the second + place, she had somehow learned of our connection, and kept proclaiming it + to the household until I felt perfectly deafened, and had to stop my ears. + The point, however, is that other people did not stop their ears, but, on + the contrary, pricked them. Indeed, I am at a loss what to do. + </p> + <p> + Really this wretched rabble has driven me to extremities. It all began + with my hearing a strange rumour from Thedora—namely, that an + unworthy suitor had been to visit you, and had insulted you with an + improper proposal. That he had insulted you deeply I knew from my own + feelings, for I felt insulted in an equal degree. Upon that, my angel, I + went to pieces, and, losing all self-control, plunged headlong. Bursting + into an unspeakable frenzy, I was at once going to call upon this villain + of a seducer—though what to do next I knew not, seeing that I was + fearful of giving you offence. Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what + a time of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found + myself unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened to come + by. He also is a tchinovnik—or rather, was a tchinovnik, since he + was turned out of the service some time ago. What he was doing there at + that moment I do not know; I only know that I went with him.... Surely it + cannot give you pleasure to read of the misfortunes of your friend—of + his sorrows, and of the temptations which he experienced?... On the + evening of the third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of whom + I have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik. More + strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous occasion, he had + come to play cards here, and I had followed him home. Of course I now see + that I did wrong, but I felt beside myself when I heard them telling him + stories about me. Exactly what happened next I cannot remember. I only + remember that several other officers were present as well as he. Or it may + be that I saw everything double—God alone knows. Also, I cannot + exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my fury I said a + great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw me down the + staircase—pushed me down it, that is to say. How I got home you + know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself, and my pride + underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except yourself knows of the + affair, and in any case it does not matter. Perhaps the affair is as you + imagine it to have been, Barbara? One thing I know for certain, and that + is that last year one of our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar + liberty with Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute + secret. He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a + crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in the way + that a gentleman should—no one except myself being a witness of the + scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no explanation at all. After the + scene was over, nothing further transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch and + Peter Petrovitch, for the reason that the latter was so desirous of + getting on in life that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and + shake hands whenever they meet.... I will not dispute the fact that I have + erred most grievously—that I should never dare to dispute, or that I + have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I was fated from + birth so to do—and one cannot escape fate, my beloved. Here, + therefore, is a detailed explanation of my misfortunes and sorrows, + written for you to read whenever you may find it convenient. I am far from + well, beloved, and have lost all my gaiety of disposition, but I send you + this letter as a token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh dear lady of + my affections.—Your humble servant, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 29th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I have read your two letters, and they + make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass over certain + things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of your misfortunes. Can + it be that the letters are the outcome of a mental disorder?... Come and + see me, for God’s sake. Come today, direct from the office, and dine with + us as you have done before. As to how you are living now, or as to what + settlement you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you write + nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have left them + unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today without fail. You + would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is an excellent cook. Goodbye—Your + own, + </p> + <p> + BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 1st. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Thank God that He has sent you a + chance of repaying my good with good. I believe in so doing, as well as in + the sweetness of your angelic heart. Therefore, I will not reproach you. + Only I pray you, do not again blame me because in the decline of my life I + have played the spendthrift. It was such a sin, was it not?—such a + thing to do? And even if you would still have it that the sin was there, + remember, little friend, what it costs me to hear such words fall from + your lips. Do not be vexed with me for saying this, for my heart is + fainting. Poor people are subject to fancies—this is a provision of + nature. I myself have had reason to know this. The poor man is exacting. + He cannot see God’s world as it is, but eyes each passer-by askance, and + looks around him uneasily in order that he may listen to every word that + is being uttered. May not people be talking of him? How is it that he is + so unsightly? What is he feeling at all? What sort of figure is he cutting + on the one side or on the other? It is matter of common knowledge, my + Barbara, that the poor man ranks lower than a rag, and will never earn the + respect of any one. Yes, write about him as you like—let scribblers + say what they choose about him—he will ever remain as he was. And + why is this? It is because, from his very nature, the poor man has to wear + his feelings on his sleeve, so that nothing about him is sacred, and as + for his self-respect—! Well, Emelia told me the other day that once, + when he had to collect subscriptions, official sanction was demanded for + every single coin, since people thought that it would be no use paying + their money to a poor man. Nowadays charity is strangely administered. + Perhaps it has always been so. Either folk do not know how to administer + it, or they are adept in the art—one of the two. Perhaps you did not + know this, so I beg to tell it you. And how comes it that the poor man + knows, is so conscious of it all? The answer is—by experience. He + knows because any day he may see a gentleman enter a restaurant and ask + himself, “What shall I have to eat today? I will have such and such a + dish,” while all the time the poor man will have nothing to eat that day + but gruel. There are men, too—wretched busybodies—who walk + about merely to see if they can find some wretched tchinovnik or + broken-down official who has got toes projecting from his boots or his + hair uncut! And when they have found such a one they make a report of the + circumstance, and their rubbish gets entered on the file.... But what does + it matter to you if my hair lacks the shears? If you will forgive me what + may seem to you a piece of rudeness, I declare that the poor man is + ashamed of such things with the sensitiveness of a young girl. YOU, for + instance, would not care (pray pardon my bluntness) to unrobe yourself + before the public eye; and in the same way, the poor man does not like to + be pried at or questioned concerning his family relations, and so forth. A + man of honour and self-respect such as I am finds it painful and grievous + to have to consort with men who would deprive him of both. + </p> + <p> + Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear’s cub or a plucked sparrow, + so that I fairly burned with shame. Yes, it hurt me terribly, Barbara. + Naturally one blushes when one can see one’s naked toes projecting through + one’s boots, and one’s buttons hanging by a single thread! As though on + purpose, I seemed, on this occasion, to be peculiarly dishevelled. No + wonder that my spirits fell. When I was talking on business matters to + Stepan Karlovitch, he suddenly exclaimed, for no apparent reason, “Ah, + poor old Makar Alexievitch!” and then left the rest unfinished. But I knew + what he had in his mind, and blushed so hotly that even the bald patch on + my head grew red. Of course the whole thing is nothing, but it worries me, + and leads to anxious thoughts. What can these fellows know about me? God + send that they know nothing! But I confess that I suspect, I strongly + suspect, one of my colleagues. Let them only betray me! They would betray + one’s private life for a groat, for they hold nothing sacred. + </p> + <p> + I have an idea who is at the bottom of it all. It is Rataziaev. Probably + he knows someone in our department to whom he has recounted the story with + additions. Or perhaps he has spread it abroad in his own department, and + thence, it has crept and crawled into ours. Everyone here knows it, down + to the last detail, for I have seen them point at you with their fingers + through the window. Oh yes, I have seen them do it. Yesterday, when I + stepped across to dine with you, the whole crew were hanging out of the + window to watch me, and the landlady exclaimed that the devil was in young + people, and called you certain unbecoming names. But this is as nothing + compared with Rataziaev’s foul intention to place us in his books, and to + describe us in a satire. He himself has declared that he is going to do + so, and other people say the same. In fact, I know not what to think, nor + what to decide. It is no use concealing the fact that you and I have + sinned against the Lord God.... You were going to send me a book of some + sort, to divert my mind—were you not, dearest? What book, though, + could now divert me? Only such books as have never existed on earth. + Novels are rubbish, and written for fools and for the idle. Believe me, + dearest, I know it through long experience. Even should they vaunt + Shakespeare to you, I tell you that Shakespeare is rubbish, and proper + only for lampoons—Your own, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 2nd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Do not disquiet yourself. God will + grant that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a quantity of + work, both for me and herself, and we are setting about it with a will. + Perhaps it will put us straight again. Thedora suspects my late + misfortunes to be connected with Anna Thedorovna; but I do not care—I + feel extraordinarily cheerful today. So you are thinking of borrowing more + money? If so, may God preserve you, for you will assuredly be ruined when + the time comes for repayment! You had far better come and live with us + here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode here, and pay no + attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for the rest of your + enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is with vain imaginings that + you are vexing yourself.... In passing, let me tell you that your style + differs greatly from letter to letter. Goodbye until we meet again. I + await your coming with impatience—Your own, + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 3rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY ANGEL, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to inform you, Oh light of my + life, that my hopes are rising again. But, little daughter of mine—do + you really mean it when you say that I am to indulge in no more + borrowings? Why, I could not do without them. Things would go badly with + us both if I did so. You are ailing. Consequently, I tell you roundly that + I MUST borrow, and that I must continue to do so. + </p> + <p> + Also, I may tell you that my seat in the office is now next to that of a + certain Emelia Ivanovitch. He is not the Emelia whom you know, but a man + who, like myself, is a privy councillor, as well as represents, with + myself, the senior and oldest official in our department. Likewise he is a + good, disinterested soul, and one that is not over-talkative, though a + true bear in appearance and demeanour. Industrious, and possessed of a + handwriting purely English, his caligraphy is, it must be confessed, even + worse than my own. Yes, he is a good soul. At the same time, we have never + been intimate with one another. We have done no more than exchange + greetings on meeting or parting, borrow one another’s penknife if we + needed one, and, in short, observe such bare civilities as convention + demands. Well, today he said to me, “Makar Alexievitch, what makes you + look so thoughtful?” and inasmuch as I could see that he wished me well, I + told him all—or, rather, I did not tell him EVERYTHING, for that I + do to no man (I have not the heart to do it); I told him just a few + scattered details concerning my financial straits. “Then you ought to + borrow,” said he. “You ought to obtain a loan of Peter Petrovitch, who + does a little in that way. I myself once borrowed some money of him, and + he charged me fair and light interest.” Well, Barbara, my heart leapt + within me at these words. I kept thinking and thinking,—if only God + would put it into the mind of Peter Petrovitch to be my benefactor by + advancing me a loan! I calculated that with its aid I might both repay my + landlady and assist yourself and get rid of my surroundings (where I can + hardly sit down to table without the rascals making jokes about me). + Sometimes his Excellency passes our desk in the office. He glances at me, + and cannot but perceive how poorly I am dressed. Now, neatness and + cleanliness are two of his strongest points. Even though he says nothing, + I feel ready to die with shame when he approaches. Well, hardening my + heart, and putting my diffidence into my ragged pocket, I approached Peter + Petrovitch, and halted before him more dead than alive. Yet I was hopeful, + and though, as it turned out, he was busily engaged in talking to Thedosei + Ivanovitch, I walked up to him from behind, and plucked at his sleeve. He + looked away from me, but I recited my speech about thirty roubles, et + cetera, et cetera, of which, at first, he failed to catch the meaning. + Even when I had explained matters to him more fully, he only burst out + laughing, and said nothing. Again I addressed to him my request; + whereupon, asking me what security I could give, he again buried himself + in his papers, and went on writing without deigning me even a second + glance. Dismay seized me. “Peter Petrovitch,” I said, “I can offer you no + security,” but to this I added an explanation that some salary would, in + time, be due to me, which I would make over to him, and account the loan + my first debt. At that moment someone called him away, and I had to wait a + little. On returning, he began to mend his pen as though he had not even + noticed that I was there. But I was for myself this time. “Peter + Petrovitch,” I continued, “can you not do ANYTHING?” Still he maintained + silence, and seemed not to have heard me. I waited and waited. At length I + determined to make a final attempt, and plucked him by the sleeve. He + muttered something, and, his pen mended, set about his writing. There was + nothing for me to do but to depart. He and the rest of them are worthy + fellows, dearest—that I do not doubt—but they are also proud, + very proud. What have I to do with them? Yet I thought I would write and + tell you all about it. Meanwhile Emelia Ivanovitch had been encouraging me + with nods and smiles. He is a good soul, and has promised to recommend me + to a friend of his who lives in Viborskaia Street and lends money. Emelia + declares that this friend will certainly lend me a little; so tomorrow, + beloved, I am going to call upon the gentleman in question.... What do you + think about it? It would be a pity not to obtain a loan. My landlady is on + the point of turning me out of doors, and has refused to allow me any more + board. Also, my boots are wearing through, and have lost every button—and + I do not possess another pair! Could anyone in a government office display + greater shabbiness? It is dreadful, my Barbara—it is simply + dreadful! + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 4th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—For God’s sake borrow some money as + soon as you can. I would not ask this help of you were it not for the + situation in which I am placed. Thedora and myself cannot remain any + longer in our present lodgings, for we have been subjected to great + unpleasantness, and you cannot imagine my state of agitation and dismay. + The reason is that this morning we received a visit from an elderly—almost + an old—man whose breast was studded with orders. Greatly surprised, + I asked him what he wanted (for at the moment Thedora had gone out + shopping); whereupon he began to question me as to my mode of life and + occupation, and then, without waiting for an answer, informed me that he + was uncle to the officer of whom you have spoken; that he was very angry + with his nephew for the way in which the latter had behaved, especially + with regard to his slandering of me right and left; and that he, the + uncle, was ready to protect me from the young spendthrift’s insolence. + Also, he advised me to have nothing to say to young fellows of that stamp, + and added that he sympathised with me as though he were my own father, and + would gladly help me in any way he could. At this I blushed in some + confusion, but did not greatly hasten to thank him. Next, he took me + forcibly by the hand, and, tapping my cheek, said that I was very + good-looking, and that he greatly liked the dimples in my face (God only + knows what he meant!). Finally he tried to kiss me, on the plea that he + was an old man, the brute! At this moment Thedora returned; whereupon, in + some confusion, he repeated that he felt a great respect for my modesty + and virtue, and that he much wished to become acquainted with me; after + which he took Thedora aside, and tried, on some pretext or another, to + give her money (though of course she declined it). At last he took himself + off—again reiterating his assurances, and saying that he intended to + return with some earrings as a present; that he advised me to change my + lodgings; and, that he could recommend me a splendid flat which he had in + his mind’s eye as likely to cost me nothing. Yes, he also declared that he + greatly liked me for my purity and good sense; that I must beware of + dissolute young men; and that he knew Anna Thedorovna, who had charged him + to inform me that she would shortly be visiting me in person. Upon that, I + understood all. What I did next I scarcely know, for I had never before + found myself in such a position; but I believe that I broke all + restraints, and made the old man feel thoroughly ashamed of himself—Thedora + helping me in the task, and well-nigh turning him neck and crop out of the + tenement. Neither of us doubt that this is Anna Thedorovna’s work—for + how otherwise could the old man have got to know about us? + </p> + <p> + Now, therefore, Makar Alexievitch, I turn to you for help. Do not, for + God’s sake, leave me in this plight. Borrow all the money that you can + get, for I have not the wherewithal to leave these lodgings, yet cannot + possibly remain in them any longer. At all events, this is Thedora’s + advice. She and I need at least twenty-five roubles, which I will repay + you out of what I earn by my work, while Thedora shall get me additional + work from day to day, so that, if there be heavy interest to pay on the + loan, you shall not be troubled with the extra burden. Nay, I will make + over to you all that I possess if only you will continue to help me. + Truly, I grieve to have to trouble you when you yourself are so hardly + situated, but my hopes rest upon you, and upon you alone. Goodbye, Makar + Alexievitch. Think of me, and may God speed you on your errand! + </p> + <p> + B.D. <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 4th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—These unlooked-for blows have shaken + me terribly, and these strange calamities have quite broken my spirit. Not + content with trying to bring you to a bed of sickness, these lickspittles + and pestilent old men are trying to bring me to the same. And I assure you + that they are succeeding—I assure you that they are. Yet I would + rather die than not help you. If I cannot help you I SHALL die; but, to + enable me to help you, you must flee like a bird out of the nest where + these owls, these birds of prey, are seeking to peck you to death. How + distressed I feel, my dearest! Yet how cruel you yourself are! Although + you are enduring pain and insult, although you, little nestling, are in + agony of spirit, you actually tell me that it grieves you to disturb me, + and that you will work off your debt to me with the labour of your own + hands! In other words, you, with your weak health, are proposing to kill + yourself in order to relieve me to term of my financial embarrassments! + Stop a moment, and think what you are saying. WHY should you sew, and + work, and torture your poor head with anxiety, and spoil your beautiful + eyes, and ruin your health? Why, indeed? Ah, little Barbara, little + Barbara! Do you not see that I shall never be any good to you, never any + good to you? At all events, I myself see it. Yet I WILL help you in your + distress. I WILL overcome every difficulty, I WILL get extra work to do, I + WILL copy out manuscripts for authors, I WILL go to the latter and force + them to employ me, I WILL so apply myself to the work that they shall see + that I am a good copyist (and good copyists, I know, are always in + demand). Thus there will be no need for you to exhaust your strength, nor + will I allow you to do so—I will not have you carry out your + disastrous intention... Yes, little angel, I will certainly borrow some + money. I would rather die than not do so. Merely tell me, my own darling, + that I am not to shrink from heavy interest, and I will not shrink from + it, I will not shrink from it—nay, I will shrink from nothing. I + will ask for forty roubles, to begin with. That will not be much, will it, + little Barbara? Yet will any one trust me even with that sum at the first + asking? Do you think that I am capable of inspiring confidence at the + first glance? Would the mere sight of my face lead any one to form of me a + favourable opinion? Have I ever been able, remember you, to appear to + anyone in a favourable light? What think you? Personally, I see + difficulties in the way, and feel sick at heart at the mere prospect. + However, of those forty roubles I mean to set aside twenty-five for + yourself, two for my landlady, and the remainder for my own spending. Of + course, I ought to give more than two to my landlady, but you must + remember my necessities, and see for yourself that that is the most that + can be assigned to her. We need say no more about it. For one rouble I + shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for I scarcely know whether my old ones + will take me to the office tomorrow morning. Also, a new neck-scarf is + indispensable, seeing that the old one has now passed its first year; but, + since you have promised to make of your old apron not only a scarf, but + also a shirt-front, I need think no more of the article in question. So + much for shoes and scarves. Next, for buttons. You yourself will agree + that I cannot do without buttons; nor is there on my garments a single hem + unfrayed. I tremble when I think that some day his Excellency may perceive + my untidiness, and say—well, what will he NOT say? Yet I shall never + hear what he says, for I shall have expired where I sit—expired of + mere shame at the thought of having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest!... + Well, my various necessities will have left me three roubles to go on + with. Part of this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco—for + I cannot live without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put a pipe + into my mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco without + acquainting you with the fact, although I ought not so to do. The pity of + it all is that, while you are depriving yourself of everything, I keep + solacing myself with various amenities—which is why I am telling you + this, that the pangs of conscience may not torment me. Frankly, I confess + that I am in desperate straits—in such straits as I have never yet + known. My landlady flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of no one; my arrears + and debts are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the + place exactly a paradise, no one has a single word to say to me. Yet I + hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide my person in the + same way, were it not that daily I have to attend the office where I have + to be constantly on my guard against my fellows. Nevertheless, merely to + be able to CONFESS this to you renews my spiritual strength. We must not + think of these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them break our + courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of them, nor to + torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my God, what is to become of + us? Stay where you are until I can come to you; after which I shall not + return hither, but simply disappear. Now I have finished my letter, and + must go and shave myself, inasmuch as, when that is done, one always feels + more decent, as well as consorts more easily with decency. God speed me! + One prayer to Him, and I must be off. + </p> + <p> + M. DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 5th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—You must not despair. Away with + melancholy! I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret that I + cannot send you more. Buy yourself what you most need until tomorrow. I + myself have almost nothing left, and what I am going to do I know not. Is + it not dreadful, Makar Alexievitch? Yet do not be downcast—it is no + good being that. Thedora declares that it would not be a bad thing if we + were to remain in this tenement, since if we left it suspicions would + arise, and our enemies might take it into their heads to look for us. On + the other hand, I do not think it would be well for us to remain here. If + I were feeling less sad I would tell you my reason. + </p> + <p> + What a strange man you are, Makar Alexievitch! You take things so much to + heart that you never know what it is to be happy. I read your letters + attentively, and can see from them that, though you worry and disturb + yourself about me, you never give a thought to yourself. Yes, every letter + tells me that you have a kind heart; but I tell YOU that that heart is + overly kind. So I will give you a little friendly advice, Makar + Alexievitch. I am full of gratitude towards you—I am indeed full for + all that you have done for me, I am most sensible of your goodness; but, + to think that I should be forced to see that, in spite of your own + troubles (of which I have been the involuntary cause), you live for me + alone—you live but for MY joys and MY sorrows and MY affection! If + you take the affairs of another person so to heart, and suffer with her to + such an extent, I do not wonder that you yourself are unhappy. Today, when + you came to see me after office-work was done, I felt afraid even to raise + my eyes to yours, for you looked so pale and desperate, and your face had + so fallen in. Yes, you were dreading to have to tell me of your failure to + borrow money—you were dreading to have to grieve and alarm me; but, + when you saw that I came very near to smiling, the load was, I know, + lifted from your heart. So do not be despondent, do not give way, but + allow more rein to your better sense. I beg and implore this of you, for + it will not be long before you see things take a turn for the better. You + will but spoil your life if you constantly lament another person’s sorrow. + Goodbye, dear friend. I beseech you not to be over-anxious about me. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 5th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,—This is well, this is well, my angel! So + you are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain any money + does not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am happy on your account. + Also, I am delighted to think that you are not going to desert your old + friend, but intend to remain in your present lodgings. Indeed, my heart + was overcharged with joy when I read in your letter those kindly words + about myself, as well as a not wholly unmerited recognition of my + sentiments. I say this not out of pride, but because now I know how much + you love me to be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to think that + I may speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be faint-hearted. + Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for instance, of the pair + of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office tomorrow! The fact is that + over-brooding proves the undoing of a man—his complete undoing. What + has saved me is the fact that it is not for myself that I am grieving, + that I am suffering, but for YOU. Nor would it matter to me in the least + that I should have to walk through the bitter cold without an overcoat or + boots—I could bear it, I could well endure it, for I am a simple man + in my requirements; but the point is—what would people say, what + would every envious and hostile tongue exclaim, when I was seen without an + overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that one wears an overcoat and boots. In + any case, therefore, I should have needed boots to maintain my name and + reputation; to both of which my ragged footgear would otherwise have + spelled ruin. Yes, it is so, my beloved, and you may believe an old man + who has had many years of experience, and knows both the world and + mankind, rather than a set of scribblers and daubers. + </p> + <p> + But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with me today. + During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit as might have been + experienced in a year. ‘Twas like this: First of all, I went out to call + upon the gentleman of whom I have spoken. I started very early, before + going to the office. Rain and sleet were falling, and I hugged myself in + my greatcoat as I walked along. “Lord,” thought I, “pardon my offences, + and send me fulfilment of all my desires;” and as I passed a church I + crossed myself, repented of my sins, and reminded myself that I was + unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then I retired into + myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking without noticing the + streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything had an empty air, and everyone + whom I met looked careworn and preoccupied, and no wonder, for who would + choose to walk abroad at such an early hour, and in such weather? Next a + band of ragged workmen met me, and jostled me boorishly as they passed; + upon which nervousness overtook me, and I felt uneasy, and tried hard not + to think of the money that was my errand. Near the Voskresenski Bridge my + feet began to ache with weariness, until I could hardly pull myself along; + until presently I met with Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping + aside, halted, and followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a + glass of vodka. “Ah, friend,” thought I, “go YOU to your vodka, but what + have I to do with such stuff?” Then, sadly weary, I halted for a moment’s + rest, and thereafter dragged myself further on my way. Purposely I kept + looking about me for something upon which to fasten my thoughts, with + which to distract, to encourage myself; but there was nothing. Not a + single idea could I connect with any given object, while, in addition, my + appearance was so draggled that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I + perceived from afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I + thought, must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia + Ivanovitch had mentioned to me as ready to lend money on interest. Half + unconscious of what I was doing, I asked a watchman if he could tell me to + whom the house belonged; whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed + at something, the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL + watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any case I + felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to like, and, no + matter what position one is in, things invariably appear to correspond to + it. Three times did I pass the house and walk the length of the street; + until the further I walked, the worse became my state of mind. “No, never, + never will he lend me anything!” I thought to myself, “He does not know + me, and my affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I shall cut a sorry + figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let Heaven send that I do + not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart with remorse!” Softly I + opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great ragged brute of a watch-dog came + flying out at me, and foaming at the mouth, and nearly jumping out his + skin! Curious is it to note what little, trivial incidents will nearly + make a man crazy, and strike terror to his heart, and annihilate the firm + purpose with which he has armed himself. At all events, I approached the + house more dead than alive, and walked straight into another catastrophe. + That is to say, not noticing the slipperiness of the threshold, I stumbled + against an old woman who was filling milk-jugs from a pail, and sent the + milk flying in every direction! The foolish old dame gave a start and a + cry, and then demanded of me whither I had been coming, and what it was I + wanted; after which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I + found something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of this + nature. It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into something. Upon + that, the noise and the commotion brought out the mistress of the house—an + old beldame of mean appearance. I addressed myself directly to her: “Does + Monsieur Markov live here?” was my inquiry. “No,” she replied, and then + stood looking at me civilly enough. “But what want you with him?” she + continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and the rest of + the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her daughter—a + barefooted girl in her teens—and told her to summon her father from + upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room which contained several + portraits of generals on the walls and was furnished with a sofa, a large + table, and a few pots of mignonette and balsam. “Shall I, or shall I not + (come weal, come woe) take myself off?” was my thought as I waited there. + Ah, how I longed to run away! “Yes,” I continued, “I had better come again + tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I shall not have upset + the milk, and these generals will not be looking at me so fiercely.” In + fact, I had actually begun to move towards the door when Monsieur Markov + entered—a grey-headed man with thievish eyes, and clad in a dirty + dressing-gown fastened with a belt. Greetings over, I stumbled out + something about Emelia Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and then came to a + dead halt, for his eyes told me that my errand had been futile. “No.” said + he, “I have no money. Moreover, what security could you offer?” I admitted + that I could offer none, but again added something about Emelia, as well + as about my pressing needs. Markov heard me out, and then repeated that he + had no money. “Ah,” thought I, “I might have known this—I might have + foreseen it!” And, to tell the truth, Barbara, I could have wished that + the earth had opened under my feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what + he did, so numbed did my legs grow as shivers began to run down my back. + Thus I remained gazing at him while he returned my gaze with a look which + said, “Well now, my friend? Why do you not go since you have no further + business to do here?” Somehow I felt conscience-stricken. “How is it that + you are in such need of money?” was what he appeared to be asking; + whereupon, I opened my mouth (anything rather than stand there to no + purpose at all!) but found that he was not even listening. “I have no + money,” again he said, “or I would lend you some with pleasure.” Several + times I repeated that I myself possessed a little, and that I would repay + any loan from him punctually, most punctually, and that he might charge me + what interest he liked, since I would meet it without fail. Yes, at that + moment I remembered our misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered + your half-rouble. “No,” said he, “I can lend you nothing without + security,” and clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber! + </p> + <p> + How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through Viborskaia Street, + to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not know. I only remember that I + felt terribly weary, cold, and starved, and that it was ten o’clock before + I reached the office. Arriving, I tried to clean myself up a little, but + Sniegirev, the porter, said that it was impossible for me to do so, and + that I should only spoil the brush, which belonged to the Government. + Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than the mat on which they + wipe their boots! What is it that will most surely break me? It is not the + want of money, but the LITTLE worries of life—these whisperings and + nods and jeers. Any day his Excellency himself may round upon me. Ah, + dearest, my golden days are gone. Today I have spent in reading your + letters through; and the reading of them has made me sad. Goodbye, my own, + and may the Lord watch over you! + </p> + <p> + M. DIEVUSHKIN. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half + jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My one + desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come and see you, + dearest. Without fail I will come and see you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 11th. + </h2> + <p> + O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone—we are both of us undone! Both of + us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined—my reputation, my + self-respect, all that I have in the world! And you as much as I. Never + shall we retrieve what we have lost. I—I have brought you to this + pass, for I have become an outcast, my darling. Everywhere I am laughed at + and despised. Even my landlady has taken to abusing me. Today she + overwhelmed me with shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a + hearth-brush. And last night, when I was in Rataziaev’s rooms, one of his + friends began to read a scribbled note which I had written to you, and + then inadvertently pulled out of my pocket. Oh beloved, what laughter + there arose at the recital! How those scoundrels mocked and derided you + and myself! I walked up to them and accused Rataziaev of breaking faith. I + said that he had played the traitor. But he only replied that I had been + the betrayer in the case, by indulging in various amours. “You have kept + them very dark though, Mr. Lovelace!” said he—and now I am known + everywhere by this name of “Lovelace.” They know EVERYTHING about us, my + darling, EVERYTHING—both about you and your affairs and about + myself; and when today I was for sending Phaldoni to the bakeshop for + something or other, he refused to go, saying that it was not his business. + “But you MUST go,” said I. “I will not,” he replied. “You have not paid my + mistress what you owe her, so I am not bound to run your errands.” At such + an insult from a raw peasant I lost my temper, and called him a fool; to + which he retorted in a similar vein. Upon this I thought that he must be + drunk, and told him so; whereupon he replied: “WHAT say you that I am? + Suppose you yourself go and sober up, for I know that the other day you + went to visit a woman, and that you got drunk with her on two grivenniks.” + To such a pass have things come! I feel ashamed to be seen alive. I am, as + it were, a man proclaimed; I am in a worse plight even than a tramp who + has lost his passport. How misfortunes are heaping themselves upon me! I + am lost—I am lost for ever! + </p> + <p> + M. D. <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 13th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—It is true that misfortune is + following upon misfortune. I myself scarcely know what to do. Yet, no + matter how you may be fairing, you must not look for help from me, for + only today I burned my left hand with the iron! At one and the same moment + I dropped the iron, made a mistake in my work, and burned myself! So now I + can no longer work. Also, these three days past, Thedora has been ailing. + My anxiety is becoming positively torturous. Nevertheless, I send you + thirty kopecks—almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as + I should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. + I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of mine. You + will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 14th. + </h2> + <p> + What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch? Surely you cannot fear the + Lord God as you ought to do? You are not only driving me to distraction + but also ruining yourself with this eternal solicitude for your + reputation. You are a man of honour, nobility of character, and + self-respect, as everyone knows; yet, at any moment, you are ready to die + with shame! Surely you should have more consideration for your grey hairs. + No, the fear of God has departed from you. Thedora has told you that it is + out of my power to render you anymore help. See, therefore, to what a pass + you have brought me! Probably you think it is nothing to me that you + should behave so badly; probably you do not realise what you have made me + suffer. I dare not set foot on the staircase here, for if I do so I am + stared at, and pointed at, and spoken about in the most horrible manner. + Yes, it is even said of me that I am “united to a drunkard.” What a thing + to hear! And whenever you are brought home drunk folk say, “They are + carrying in that tchinovnik.” THAT is not the proper way to make me help + you. I swear that I MUST leave this place, and go and get work as a cook + or a laundress. It is impossible for me to stay here. Long ago I wrote and + asked you to come and see me, yet you have not come. Truly my tears and + prayers must mean NOTHING to you, Makar Alexievitch! Whence, too, did you + get the money for your debauchery? For the love of God be more careful of + yourself, or you will be ruined. How shameful, how abominable of you! So + the landlady would not admit you last night, and you spent the night on + the doorstep? Oh, I know all about it. Yet if only you could have seen my + agony when I heard the news!... Come and see me, Makar Alexievitch, and we + will once more be happy together. Yes, we will read together, and talk of + old times, and Thedora shall tell you of her pilgrimages in former days. + For God’s sake beloved, do not ruin both yourself and me. I live for you + alone; it is for your sake alone that I am still here. Be your better self + once more—the self which still can remain firm in the face of + misfortune. Poverty is no crime; always remember that. After all, why + should we despair? Our present difficulties will pass away, and God will + right us. Only be brave. I send you two grivenniks for the purchase of + some tobacco or anything else that you need; but, for the love of heaven, + do not spend the money foolishly. Come you and see me soon; come without + fail. Perhaps you may be ashamed to meet me, as you were before, but you + NEED not feel like that—such shame would be misplaced. Only do bring + with you sincere repentance and trust in God, who orders all things for + the best. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 19th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,-Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my darling—I + AM ashamed. At the same time, what is there in all this? Why should we not + be cheerful again? Why should I mind the soles of my feet coming through + my boots? The sole of one’s foot is a mere bagatelle—it will never + be anything but just a base, dirty sole. And shoes do not matter, either. + The Greek sages used to walk about without them, so why should we coddle + ourselves with such things? Yet why, also, should I be insulted and + despised because of them? Tell Thedora that she is a rubbishy, tiresome, + gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly foolish one. As for my + grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, inasmuch as I am not such an + old man as you think. Emelia sends you his greeting. You write that you + are in great distress, and have been weeping. Well, I too am in great + distress, and have been weeping. Nay, nay. I wish you the best of health + and happiness, even as I am well and happy myself, so long as I may + remain, my darling,—Your friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 21st. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAR AND KIND BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I feel that I am guilty, I feel + that I have sinned against you. Yet also I feel, from what you say, that + it is no use for me so to feel. Even before I had sinned I felt as I do + now; but I gave way to despair, and the more so as recognised my fault. + Darling, I am not cruel or hardhearted. To rend your little soul would be + the act of a blood-thirsty tiger, whereas I have the heart of a sheep. You + yourself know that I am not addicted to bloodthirstiness, and therefore + that I cannot really be guilty of the fault in question, seeing that + neither my mind nor my heart have participated in it. + Nor can I understand wherein the guilt lies. To me it is all a mystery. + When you sent me those thirty kopecks, and thereafter those two + grivenniks, my heart sank within me as I looked at the poor little money. + To think that though you had burned your hand, and would soon be hungry, + you could write to me that I was to buy tobacco! What was I to do? + Remorselessly to rob you, an orphan, as any brigand might do? I felt + greatly depressed, dearest. That is to say, persuaded that I should never + do any good with my life, and that I was inferior even to the sole of my + own boot, I took it into my head that it was absurd for me to aspire at + all—rather, that I ought to account myself a disgrace and an + abomination. Once a man has lost his self-respect, and has decided to + abjure his better qualities and human dignity, he falls headlong, and + cannot choose but do so. It is decreed of fate, and therefore I am not + guilty in this respect. + That evening I went out merely to get a breath of fresh air, but one thing + followed another—the weather was cold, all nature was looking + mournful, and I had fallen in with Emelia. This man had spent everything + that he possessed, and, at the time I met him, had not for two days tasted + a crust of bread. He had tried to raise money by pawning, but what + articles he had for the purpose had been refused by the pawnbrokers. It + was more from sympathy for a fellow-man than from any liking for the + individual that I yielded. That is how the fault arose, dearest. + He spoke of you, and I mingled my tears with his. Yes, he is a man of + kind, kind heart—a man of deep feeling. I often feel as he did, + dearest, and, in addition, I know how beholden to you I am. As soon as + ever I got to know you I began both to realise myself and to love you; for + until you came into my life I had been a lonely man—I had been, as + it were, asleep rather than alive. In former days my rascally colleagues + used to tell me that I was unfit even to be seen; in fact, they so + disliked me that at length I began to dislike myself, for, being + frequently told that I was stupid, I began to believe that I really was + so. But the instant that YOU came into my life, you lightened the dark + places in it, you lightened both my heart and my soul. Gradually, I gained + rest of spirit, until I had come to see that I was no worse than other + men, and that, though I had neither style nor brilliancy nor polish, I was + still a MAN as regards my thoughts and feelings. But now, alas! pursued + and scorned of fate, I have again allowed myself to abjure my own dignity. + Oppressed of misfortune, I have lost my courage. Here is my confession to + you, dearest. With tears I beseech you not to inquire further into the + matter, for my heart is breaking, and life has grown indeed hard and + bitter for me—Beloved, I offer you my respect, and remain ever your + faithful friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 3rd. + </h2> + <p> + The reason why I did not finish my last letter, Makar Alexievitch, was + that I found it so difficult to write. There are moments when I am glad to + be alone—to grieve and repine without any one to share my sorrow: + and those moments are beginning to come upon me with ever-increasing + frequency. Always in my reminiscences I find something which is + inexplicable, yet strongly attractive—so much so that for hours + together I remain insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. + Indeed, in my present life there is not a single impression that I + encounter—pleasant or the reverse—which does not recall to my + mind something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly is this + the case with regard to my childhood, my golden childhood. Yet such + moments always leave me depressed. They render me weak, and exhaust my + powers of fancy; with the result that my health, already not good, grows + steadily worse. + </p> + <p> + However, this morning it is a fine, fresh, cloudless day, such as we + seldom get in autumn. The air has revived me and I greet it with joy. Yet + to think that already the fall of the year has come! How I used to love + the country in autumn! Then but a child, I was yet a sensitive being who + loved autumn evenings better than autumn mornings. I remember how beside + our house, at the foot of a hill, there lay a large pond, and how the pond—I + can see it even now!—shone with a broad, level surface that was as + clear as crystal. On still evenings this pond would be at rest, and not a + rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks and overhung the + motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to seem, yet how cold! The + dew would be falling upon the turf, lights would be beginning to shine + forth from the huts on the pond’s margin, and the cattle would be wending + their way home. Then quietly I would slip out of the house to look at my + beloved pond, and forget myself in contemplation. Here and there a + fisherman’s bundle of brushwood would be burning at the water’s edge, and + sending its light far and wide over the surface. Above, the sky would be + of a cold blue colour, save for a fringe of flame-coloured streaks on the + horizon that kept turning ever paler and paler; and when the moon had come + out there would be wafted through the limpid air the sounds of a + frightened bird fluttering, of a bulrush rubbing against its fellows in + the gentle breeze, and of a fish rising with a splash. Over the dark water + there would gather a thin, transparent mist; and though, in the distance, + night would be looming, and seemingly enveloping the entire horizon, + everything closer at hand would be standing out as though shaped with a + chisel—banks, boats, little islands, and all. Beside the margin a + derelict barrel would be turning over and over in the water; a switch of + laburnum, with yellowing leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; + and a belated gull would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise + once more, and disappear into the mist. How I would watch and listen to + these things! How strangely good they all would seem! But I was a mere + infant in those days—a mere child. + </p> + <p> + Yes, truly I loved autumn-tide—the late autumn when the crops are + garnered, and field work is ended, and the evening gatherings in the huts + have begun, and everyone is awaiting winter. Then does everything become + more mysterious, the sky frowns with clouds, yellow leaves strew the paths + at the edge of the naked forest, and the forest itself turns black and + blue—more especially at eventide when damp fog is spreading and the + trees glimmer in the depths like giants, like formless, weird phantoms. + Perhaps one may be out late, and had got separated from one’s companions. + Oh horrors! Suddenly one starts and trembles as one seems to see a + strange-looking being peering from out of the darkness of a hollow tree, + while all the while the wind is moaning and rattling and howling through + the forest—moaning with a hungry sound as it strips the leaves from + the bare boughs, and whirls them into the air. High over the tree-tops, in + a widespread, trailing, noisy crew, there fly, with resounding cries, + flocks of birds which seem to darken and overlay the very heavens. Then a + strange feeling comes over one, until one seems to hear the voice of some + one whispering: “Run, run, little child! Do not be out late, for this + place will soon have become dreadful! Run, little child! Run!” And at the + words terror will possess one’s soul, and one will rush and rush until + one’s breath is spent—until, panting, one has reached home. + At home, however, all will look bright and bustling as we children are set + to shell peas or poppies, and the damp twigs crackle in the stove, and our + mother comes to look fondly at our work, and our old nurse, Iliana, tells + us stories of bygone days, or terrible legends concerning wizards and dead + men. At the recital we little ones will press closer to one another, yet + smile as we do so; when suddenly, everyone becomes silent. Surely somebody + has knocked at the door?... But nay, nay; it is only the sound of + Frolovna’s spinning-wheel. What shouts of laughter arise! Later one will + be unable to sleep for fear of the strange dreams which come to visit one; + or, if one falls asleep, one will soon wake again, and, afraid to stir, + lie quaking under the coverlet until dawn. And in the morning, one will + arise as fresh as a lark and look at the window, and see the fields + overlaid with hoarfrost, and fine icicles hanging from the naked branches, + and the pond covered over with ice as thin as paper, and a white steam + rising from the surface, and birds flying overhead with cheerful cries. + Next, as the sun rises, he throws his glittering beams everywhere, and + melts the thin, glassy ice until the whole scene has come to look bright + and clear and exhilarating; and as the fire begins to crackle again in the + stove, we sit down to the tea-urn, while, chilled with the night cold, our + black dog, Polkan, will look in at us through the window, and wag his tail + with a cheerful air. Presently, a peasant will pass the window in his cart + bound for the forest to cut firewood, and the whole party will feel merry + and contented together. Abundant grain lies stored in the byres, and great + stacks of wheat are glowing comfortably in the morning sunlight. Everyone + is quiet and happy, for God has blessed us with a bounteous harvest, and + we know that there will be abundance of food for the wintertide. Yes, the + peasant may rest assured that his family will not want for aught. Song and + dance will arise at night from the village girls, and on festival days + everyone will repair to God’s house to thank Him with grateful tears for + what He has done.... Ah, a golden time was my time of childhood!... + </p> + <p> + Carried away by these memories, I could weep like a child. Everything, + everything comes back so clearly to my recollection! The past stands out + so vividly before me! Yet in the present everything looks dim and dark! + How will it all end?—how? Do you know, I have a feeling, a sort of + sure premonition, that I am going to die this coming autumn; for I feel + terribly, oh so terribly ill! Often do I think of death, yet feel that I + should not like to die here and be laid to rest in the soil of St. + Petersburg. Once more I have had to take to my bed, as I did last spring, + for I have never really recovered. Indeed I feel so depressed! Thedora has + gone out for the day, and I am alone. For a long while past I have been + afraid to be left by myself, for I keep fancying that there is someone + else in the room, and that that someone is speaking to me. Especially do I + fancy this when I have gone off into a reverie, and then suddenly awoken + from it, and am feeling bewildered. That is why I have made this letter + such a long one; for, when I am writing, the mood passes away. Goodbye. I + have neither time nor paper left for more, and must close. Of the money + which I saved to buy a new dress and hat, there remains but a single + rouble; but, I am glad that you have been able to pay your landlady two + roubles, for they will keep her tongue quiet for a time. And you must + repair your wardrobe. + </p> + <p> + Goodbye once more. I am so tired! Nor can I think why I am growing so weak—why + it is that even the smallest task now wearies me? Even if work should come + my way, how am I to do it? That is what worries me above all things. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 5th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA,—Today I have undergone a variety of experiences. + In the first place, my head has been aching, and towards evening I went + out to get a breath of fresh air along the Fontanka Canal. The weather was + dull and damp, and even by six o’clock, darkness had begun to set in. + True, rain was not actually falling, but only a mist like rain, while the + sky was streaked with masses of trailing cloud. Crowds of people were + hurrying along Naberezhnaia Street, with faces that looked strange and + dejected. There were drunken peasants; snub-nosed old harridans in + slippers; bareheaded artisans; cab drivers; every species of beggar; boys; + a locksmith’s apprentice in a striped smock, with lean, emaciated features + which seemed to have been washed in rancid oil; an ex-soldier who was + offering penknives and copper rings for sale; and so on, and so on. It was + the hour when one would expect to meet no other folk than these. And what + a quantity of boats there were on the canal. It made one wonder how they + could all find room there. On every bridge were old women selling damp + gingerbread or withered apples, and every woman looked as damp and dirty + as her wares. In short, the Fontanka is a saddening spot for a walk, for + there is wet granite under one’s feet, and tall, dingy buildings on either + side of one, and wet mist below and wet mist above. Yes, all was dark and + gloomy there this evening. + </p> + <p> + By the time I had returned to Gorokhovaia Street darkness had fallen and + the lamps had been lit. However, I did not linger long in that particular + spot, for Gorokhovaia Street is too noisy a place. But what sumptuous + shops and stores it contains! Everything sparkles and glitters, and the + windows are full of nothing but bright colours and materials and hats of + different shapes. One might think that they were decked merely for + display; but no,—people buy these things, and give them to their + wives! Yes, it IS a sumptuous place. Hordes of German hucksters are there, + as well as quite respectable traders. And the quantities of carriages + which pass along the street! One marvels that the pavement can support so + many splendid vehicles, with windows like crystal, linings made of silk + and velvet, and lacqueys dressed in epaulets and wearing swords! Into some + of them I glanced, and saw that they contained ladies of various ages. + Perhaps they were princesses and countesses! Probably at that hour such + folk would be hastening to balls and other gatherings. In fact, it was + interesting to be able to look so closely at a princess or a great lady. + They were all very fine. At all events, I had never before seen such + persons as I beheld in those carriages.... + </p> + <p> + Then I thought of you. Ah, my own, my darling, it is often that I think of + you and feel my heart sink. How is it that YOU are so unfortunate, + Barbara? How is it that YOU are so much worse off than other people? In my + eyes you are kind-hearted, beautiful, and clever—why, then, has such + an evil fate fallen to your lot? How comes it that you are left desolate—you, + so good a human being! While to others happiness comes without an + invitation at all? Yes, I know—I know it well—that I ought not + to say it, for to do so savours of free-thought; but why should that + raven, Fate, croak out upon the fortunes of one person while she is yet in + her mother’s womb, while another person it permits to go forth in + happiness from the home which has reared her? To even an idiot of an + Ivanushka such happiness is sometimes granted. “You, you fool Ivanushka,” + says Fate, “shall succeed to your grandfather’s money-bags, and eat, + drink, and be merry; whereas YOU (such and such another one) shall do no + more than lick the dish, since that is all that you are good for.” Yes, I + know that it is wrong to hold such opinions, but involuntarily the sin of + so doing grows upon one’s soul. Nevertheless, it is you, my darling, who + ought to be riding in one of those carriages. Generals would have come + seeking your favour, and, instead of being clad in a humble cotton dress, + you would have been walking in silken and golden attire. Then you would + not have been thin and wan as now, but fresh and plump and rosy-cheeked as + a figure on a sugar-cake. Then should I too have been happy—happy if + only I could look at your lighted windows from the street, and watch your + shadow—happy if only I could think that you were well and happy, my + sweet little bird! Yet how are things in reality? Not only have evil folk + brought you to ruin, but there comes also an old rascal of a libertine to + insult you! Just because he struts about in a frockcoat, and can ogle you + through a gold-mounted lorgnette, the brute thinks that everything will + fall into his hands—that you are bound to listen to his insulting + condescension! Out upon him! But why is this? It is because you are an + orphan, it is because you are unprotected, it is because you have no + powerful friend to afford you the decent support which is your due. WHAT + do such facts matter to a man or to men to whom the insulting of an orphan + is an offence allowed? Such fellows are not men at all, but mere vermin, + no matter what they think themselves to be. Of that I am certain. Why, an + organ-grinder whom I met in Gorokhovaia Street would inspire more respect + than they do, for at least he walks about all day, and suffers hunger—at + least he looks for a stray, superfluous groat to earn him subsistence, and + is, therefore, a true gentleman, in that he supports himself. To beg alms + he would be ashamed; and, moreover, he works for the benefit of mankind + just as does a factory machine. “So far as in me lies,” says he, “I will + give you pleasure.” True, he is a pauper, and nothing but a pauper; but, + at least he is an HONOURABLE pauper. Though tired and hungry, he still + goes on working—working in his own peculiar fashion, yet still doing + honest labour. Yes, many a decent fellow whose labour may be + disproportionate to its utility pulls the forelock to no one, and begs his + bread of no one. I myself resemble that organ-grinder. That is to say, + though not exactly he, I resemble him in this respect, that I work + according to my capabilities, and so far as in me lies. More could be + asked of no one; nor ought I to be adjudged to do more. + </p> + <p> + Apropos of the organ-grinder, I may tell you, dearest, that today I + experienced a double misfortune. As I was looking at the grinder, certain + thoughts entered my head and I stood wrapped in a reverie. Some cabmen + also had halted at the spot, as well as a young girl, with a yet smaller + girl who was dressed in rags and tatters. These people had halted there to + listen to the organ-grinder, who was playing in front of some one’s + windows. Next, I caught sight of a little urchin of about ten—a boy + who would have been good-looking but for the fact that his face was + pinched and sickly. Almost barefooted, and clad only in a shirt, he was + standing agape to listen to the music—a pitiful childish figure. + Nearer to the grinder a few more urchins were dancing, but in the case of + this lad his hands and feet looked numbed, and he kept biting the end of + his sleeve and shivering. Also, I noticed that in his hands he had a paper + of some sort. Presently a gentleman came by, and tossed the grinder a + small coin, which fell straight into a box adorned with a representation + of a Frenchman and some ladies. The instant he heard the rattle of the + coin, the boy started, looked timidly round, and evidently made up his + mind that I had thrown the money; whereupon, he ran to me with his little + hands all shaking, and said in a tremulous voice as he proffered me his + paper: “Pl-please sign this.” I turned over the paper, and saw that there + was written on it what is usual under such circumstances. “Kind friends I + am a sick mother with three hungry children. Pray help me. Though soon I + shall be dead, yet, if you will not forget my little ones in this world, + neither will I forget you in the world that is to come.” The thing seemed + clear enough; it was a matter of life and death. Yet what was I to give + the lad? Well, I gave him nothing. But my heart ached for him. I am + certain that, shivering with cold though he was, and perhaps hungry, the + poor lad was not lying. No, no, he was not lying. + The shameful point is that so many mothers take no care of their children, + but send them out, half-clad, into the cold. Perhaps this lad’s mother + also was a feckless old woman, and devoid of character? Or perhaps she had + no one to work for her, but was forced to sit with her legs crossed—a + veritable invalid? Or perhaps she was just an old rogue who was in the + habit of sending out pinched and hungry boys to deceive the public? What + would such a boy learn from begging letters? His heart would soon be + rendered callous, for, as he ran about begging, people would pass him by + and give him nothing. Yes, their hearts would be as stone, and their + replies rough and harsh. “Away with you!” they would say. “You are seeking + but to trick us.” He would hear that from every one, and his heart would + grow hard, and he would shiver in vain with the cold, like some poor + little fledgling that has fallen out of the nest. His hands and feet would + be freezing, and his breath coming with difficulty; until, look you, he + would begin to cough, and disease, like an unclean parasite, would worm + its way into his breast until death itself had overtaken him—overtaken + him in some foetid corner whence there was no chance of escape. Yes, that + is what his life would become. + There are many such cases. Ah, Barbara, it is hard to hear “For Christ’s + sake!” and yet pass the suppliant by and give nothing, or say merely: “May + the Lord give unto you!” Of course, SOME supplications mean nothing (for + supplications differ greatly in character). Occasionally supplications are + long, drawn-out and drawling, stereotyped and mechanical—they are + purely begging supplications. Requests of this kind it is less hard to + refuse, for they are purely professional and of long standing. “The beggar + is overdoing it,” one thinks to oneself. “He knows the trick too well.” + But there are other supplications which voice a strange, hoarse, + unaccustomed note, like that today when I took the poor boy’s paper. He + had been standing by the kerbstone without speaking to anybody—save + that at last to myself he said, “For the love of Christ give me a groat!” + in a voice so hoarse and broken that I started, and felt a queer sensation + in my heart, although I did not give him a groat. Indeed, I had not a + groat on me. Rich folk dislike hearing poor people complain of their + poverty. “They disturb us,” they say, “and are impertinent as well. Why + should poverty be so impertinent? Why should its hungry moans prevent us + from sleeping?” + </p> + <p> + To tell you the truth, my darling, I have written the foregoing not merely + to relieve my feelings, but, also, still more, to give you an example of + the excellent style in which I can write. You yourself will recognise that + my style was formed long ago, but of late such fits of despondency have + seized upon me that my style has begun to correspond to my feelings; and + though I know that such correspondence gains one little, it at least + renders one a certain justice. For not unfrequently it happens that, for + some reason or another, one feels abased, and inclined to value oneself at + nothing, and to account oneself lower than a dishclout; but this merely + arises from the fact that at the time one is feeling harassed and + depressed, like the poor boy who today asked of me alms. Let me tell you + an allegory, dearest, and do you hearken to it. Often, as I hasten to the + office in the morning, I look around me at the city—I watch it + awaking, getting out of bed, lighting its fires, cooking its breakfast, + and becoming vocal; and at the sight, I begin to feel smaller, as though + some one had dealt me a rap on my inquisitive nose. Yes, at such times I + slink along with a sense of utter humiliation in my heart. For one would + have but to see what is passing within those great, black, grimy houses of + the capital, and to penetrate within their walls, for one at once to + realise what good reason there is for self-depredation and + heart-searching. Of course, you will note that I am speaking figuratively + rather than literally. + </p> + <p> + Let us look at what is passing within those houses. In some dingy corner, + perhaps, in some damp kennel which is supposed to be a room, an artisan + has just awakened from sleep. All night he has dreamt—IF such an + insignificant fellow is capable of dreaming?—about the shoes which + last night he mechanically cut out. He is a master-shoemaker, you see, and + therefore able to think of nothing but his one subject of interest. Nearby + are some squalling children and a hungry wife. Nor is he the only man that + has to greet the day in this fashion. Indeed, the incident would be + nothing—it would not be worth writing about, save for another + circumstance. In that same house ANOTHER person—a person of great + wealth—may also have been dreaming of shoes; but, of shoes of a very + different pattern and fashion (in a manner of speaking, if you understand + my metaphor, we are all of us shoemakers). This, again, would be nothing, + were it not that the rich person has no one to whisper in his ear: “Why + dost thou think of such things? Why dost thou think of thyself alone, and + live only for thyself—thou who art not a shoemaker? THY children are + not ailing. THY wife is not hungry. Look around thee. Can’st thou not find + a subject more fitting for thy thoughts than thy shoes?” That is what I + want to say to you in allegorical language, Barbara. Maybe it savours a + little of free-thought, dearest; but, such ideas WILL keep arising in my + mind and finding utterance in impetuous speech. Why, therefore, should one + not value oneself at a groat as one listens in fear and trembling to the + roar and turmoil of the city? Maybe you think that I am exaggerating + things—that this is a mere whim of mine, or that I am quoting from a + book? No, no, Barbara. You may rest assured that it is not so. + Exaggeration I abhor, with whims I have nothing to do, and of quotation I + am guiltless. + </p> + <p> + I arrived home today in a melancholy mood. Sitting down to the table, I + had warmed myself some tea, and was about to drink a second glass of it, + when there entered Gorshkov, the poor lodger. Already, this morning, I had + noticed that he was hovering around the other lodgers, and also seeming to + want to speak to myself. In passing I may say that his circumstances are + infinitely worse than my own; for, only think of it, he has a wife and + children! Indeed, if I were he, I do not know what I should do. Well, he + entered my room, and bowed to me with the pus standing, as usual, in drops + on his eyelashes, his feet shuffling about, and his tongue unable, at + first, to articulate a word. I motioned him to a chair (it was a + dilapidated enough one, but I had no other), and asked him to have a glass + of tea. To this he demurred—for quite a long time he demurred, but + at length he accepted the offer. Next, he was for drinking the tea without + sugar, and renewed his excuses, but upon the sugar I insisted. After long + resistance and many refusals, he DID consent to take some, but only the + smallest possible lump; after which, he assured me that his tea was + perfectly sweet. To what depths of humility can poverty reduce a man! + “Well, what is it, my good sir?” I inquired of him; whereupon he replied: + “It is this, Makar Alexievitch. You have once before been my benefactor. + Pray again show me the charity of God, and assist my unfortunate family. + My wife and children have nothing to eat. To think that a father should + have to say this!” I was about to speak again when he interrupted me. “You + see,” he continued, “I am afraid of the other lodgers here. That is to + say, I am not so much afraid of, as ashamed to address them, for they are + a proud, conceited lot of men. Nor would I have troubled even you, my + friend and former benefactor, were it not that I know that you yourself + have experienced misfortune and are in debt; wherefore, I have ventured to + come and make this request of you, in that I know you not only to be + kind-hearted, but also to be in need, and for that reason the more likely + to sympathise with me in my distress.” To this he added an apology for his + awkwardness and presumption. I replied that, glad though I should have + been to serve him, I had nothing, absolutely nothing, at my disposal. “Ah, + Makar Alexievitch,” he went on, “surely it is not much that I am asking of + you? My-my wife and children are starving. C-could you not afford me just + a grivennik?” At that my heart contracted, “How these people put me to + shame!” thought I. But I had only twenty kopecks left, and upon them I had + been counting for meeting my most pressing requirements. “No, good sir, I + cannot,” said I. “Well, what you will,” he persisted. “Perhaps ten + kopecks?” Well I got out my cash-box, and gave him the twenty. It was a + good deed. To think that such poverty should exist! Then I had some + further talk with him. “How is it,” I asked him, “that, though you are in + such straits, you have hired a room at five roubles?” He replied that + though, when he engaged the room six months ago, he paid three months’ + rent in advance, his affairs had subsequently turned out badly, and never + righted themselves since. You see, Barbara, he was sued at law by a + merchant who had defrauded the Treasury in the matter of a contract. When + the fraud was discovered the merchant was prosecuted, but the transactions + in which he had engaged involved Gorshkov, although the latter had been + guilty only of negligence, want of prudence, and culpable indifference to + the Treasury’s interests. True, the affair had taken place some years ago, + but various obstacles had since combined to thwart Gorshkov. “Of the + disgrace put upon me,” said he to me, “I am innocent. True, I to a certain + extent disobeyed orders, but never did I commit theft or embezzlement.” + Nevertheless the affair lost him his character. He was dismissed the + service, and though not adjudged capitally guilty, has been unable since + to recover from the merchant a large sum of money which is his by right, + as spared to him (Gorshkov) by the legal tribunal. True, the tribunal in + question did not altogether believe in Gorshkov, but I do so. The matter + is of a nature so complex and crooked that probably a hundred years would + be insufficient to unravel it; and, though it has now to a certain extent + been cleared up, the merchant still holds the key to the situation. + Personally I side with Gorshkov, and am very sorry for him. Though lacking + a post of any kind, he still refuses to despair, though his resources are + completely exhausted. Yes, it is a tangled affair, and meanwhile he must + live, for, unfortunately, another child which has been born to him has + entailed upon the family fresh expenses. Also, another of his children + recently fell ill and died—which meant yet further expense. Lastly, + not only is his wife in bad health, but he himself is suffering from a + complaint of long standing. In short, he has had a very great deal to + undergo. Yet he declares that daily he expects a favourable issue to his + affair—that he has no doubt of it whatever. I am terribly sorry for + him, and said what I could to give him comfort, for he is a man who has + been much bullied and misled. He had come to me for protection from his + troubles, so I did my best to soothe him. Now, goodbye, my darling. May + Christ watch over you and preserve your health. Dearest one, even to think + of you is like medicine to my ailing soul. Though I suffer for you, I at + least suffer gladly.—Your true friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 9th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I am beside myself as I take up my + pen, for a most terrible thing has happened. My head is whirling round. + Ah, beloved, how am I to tell you about it all? I had never foreseen what + has happened. But no—I cannot say that I had NEVER foreseen it, for + my mind DID get an inkling of what was coming, through my seeing something + very similar to it in a dream. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you the whole story—simply, and as God may put it into + my heart. Today I went to the office as usual, and, upon arrival, sat down + to write. You must know that I had been engaged on the same sort of work + yesterday, and that, while executing it, I had been approached by Timothei + Ivanovitch with an urgent request for a particular document. “Makar + Alexievitch,” he had said, “pray copy this out for me. Copy it as quickly + and as carefully as you can, for it will require to be signed today.” Also + let me tell you, dearest, that yesterday I had not been feeling myself, + nor able to look at anything. I had been troubled with grave depression—my + breast had felt chilled, and my head clouded. All the while I had been + thinking of you, my darling. Well, I set to work upon the copying, and + executed it cleanly and well, except for the fact that, whether the devil + confused my mind, or a mysterious fate so ordained, or the occurrence was + simply bound to happen, I left out a whole line of the document, and thus + made nonsense of it! The work had been given me too late for signature + last night, so it went before his Excellency this morning. I reached the + office at my usual hour, and sat down beside Emelia Ivanovitch. Here I may + remark that for a long time past I have been feeling twice as shy and + diffident as I used to do; I have been finding it impossible to look + people in the face. Let only a chair creak, and I become more dead than + alive. Today, therefore, I crept humbly to my seat and sat down in such a + crouching posture that Efim Akimovitch (the most touchy man in the world) + said to me sotto voce: “What on earth makes you sit like that, Makar + Alexievitch?” Then he pulled such a grimace that everyone near us rocked + with laughter at my expense. I stopped my ears, frowned, and sat without + moving, for I found this the best method of putting a stop to such + merriment. All at once I heard a bustle and a commotion and the sound of + someone running towards us. Did my ears deceive me? It was I who was being + summoned in peremptory tones! My heart started to tremble within me, + though I could not say why. I only know that never in my life before had + it trembled as it did then. Still I clung to my chair—and at that + moment was hardly myself at all. The voices were coming nearer and nearer, + until they were shouting in my ear: “Dievushkin! Dievushkin! Where is + Dievushkin?” Then at length I raised my eyes, and saw before me Evstafi + Ivanovitch. He said to me: “Makar Alexievitch, go at once to his + Excellency. You have made a mistake in a document.” That was all, but it + was enough, was it not? I felt dead and cold as ice—I felt + absolutely deprived of the power of sensation; but, I rose from my seat + and went whither I had been bidden. Through one room, through two rooms, + through three rooms I passed, until I was conducted into his Excellency’s + cabinet itself. Of my thoughts at that moment I can give no exact account. + I merely saw his Excellency standing before me, with a knot of people + around him. I have an idea that I did not salute him—that I forgot + to do so. Indeed, so panic-stricken was I, that my teeth were chattering + and my knees knocking together. In the first place, I was greatly ashamed + of my appearance (a glance into a mirror on the right had frightened me + with the reflection of myself that it presented), and, in the second + place, I had always been accustomed to comport myself as though no such + person as I existed. Probably his Excellency had never before known that I + was even alive. Of course, he might have heard, in passing, that there was + a man named Dievushkin in his department; but never for a moment had he + had any intercourse with me. + </p> + <p> + He began angrily: “What is this you have done, sir? Why are you not more + careful? The document was wanted in a hurry, and you have gone and spoiled + it. What do you think of it?”—the last being addressed to Evstafi + Ivanovitch. More I did not hear, except for some flying exclamations of + “What negligence and carelessness! How awkward this is!” and so on. I + opened my mouth to say something or other; I tried to beg pardon, but + could not. To attempt to leave the room, I had not the hardihood. Then + there happened something the recollection of which causes the pen to + tremble in my hand with shame. A button of mine—the devil take it!—a + button of mine that was hanging by a single thread suddenly broke off, and + hopped and skipped and rattled and rolled until it had reached the feet of + his Excellency himself—this amid a profound general silence! THAT + was what came of my intended self-justification and plea for mercy! THAT + was the only answer that I had to return to my chief! + The sequel I shudder to relate. At once his Excellency’s attention became + drawn to my figure and costume. I remembered what I had seen in the + mirror, and hastened to pursue the button. Obstinacy of a sort seized upon + me, and I did my best to arrest the thing, but it slipped away, and kept + turning over and over, so that I could not grasp it, and made a sad + spectacle of myself with my awkwardness. Then there came over me a feeling + that my last remaining strength was about to leave me, and that all, all + was lost—reputation, manhood, everything! In both ears I seemed to + hear the voices of Theresa and Phaldoni. At length, however, I grasped the + button, and, raising and straightening myself, stood humbly with clasped + hands—looking a veritable fool! But no. First of all I tried to + attach the button to the ragged threads, and smiled each time that it + broke away from them, and smiled again. In the beginning his Excellency + had turned away, but now he threw me another glance, and I heard him say + to Evstafi Ivanovitch: “What on earth is the matter with the fellow? Look + at the figure he cuts! Who to God is he?” Ah, beloved, only to hear that, + “Who to God is he?” Truly I had made myself a marked man! In reply to his + Excellency Evstafi murmured: “He is no one of any note, though his + character is good. Besides, his salary is sufficient as the scale goes.” + “Very well, then; but help him out of his difficulties somehow,” said his + Excellency. “Give him a trifle of salary in advance.” “It is all + forestalled,” was the reply. “He drew it some time ago. But his record is + good. There is nothing against him.” At this I felt as though I were in + Hell fire. I could actually have died! “Well, well,” said his Excellency, + “let him copy out the document a second time. Dievushkin, come here. You + are to make another copy of this paper, and to make it as quickly as + possible.” With that he turned to some other officials present, issued to + them a few orders, and the company dispersed. No sooner had they done so + than his Excellency hurriedly pulled out a pocket-book, took thence a note + for a hundred roubles, and, with the words, “Take this. It is as much as I + can afford. Treat it as you like,” placed the money in my hand! At this, + dearest, I started and trembled, for I was moved to my very soul. What + next I did I hardly know, except that I know that I seized his Excellency + by the hand. But he only grew very red, and then—no, I am not + departing by a hair’s-breadth from the truth—it is true—that + he took this unworthy hand in his, and shook it! Yes, he took this hand of + mine in his, and shook it, as though I had been his equal, as though I had + been a general like himself! “Go now,” he said. “This is all that I can do + for you. Make no further mistakes, and I will overlook your fault.” + </p> + <p> + What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and had I any + children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God for his + Excellency. I should say to my children: “For your father you need not + pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until your lives shall end.” + Yes, dear one—I tell you this in all solemnity, so hearken well unto + my words—that though, during these cruel days of our adversity, I + have nearly died of distress of soul at the sight of you and your poverty, + as well as at the sight of myself and my abasement and helplessness, I yet + care less for the hundred roubles which his Excellency has given me than + for the fact that he was good enough to take the hand of a wretched + drunkard in his own and press it. By that act he restored me to myself. By + that act he revived my courage, he made life forever sweet to me.... Yes, + sure am I that, sinner though I be before the Almighty, my prayers for the + happiness and prosperity of his Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly + Throne!... + </p> + <p> + But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and distraught. My + heart is beating as though it would burst my breast, and all my body seems + weak.... I send you forty-five roubles in notes. Another twenty I shall + give to my landlady, and the remaining thirty-five I shall keep—twenty + for new clothes and fifteen for actual living expenses. But these + experiences of the morning have shaken me to the core, and I must rest + awhile. It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in jerks—deep + down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling.... I will come and + see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching with these various + sensations. God sees all things, my darling, my priceless treasure!—Your + steadfast friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 10th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I am unspeakably rejoiced at your good + fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. Now, take a + rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money to no advantage. Live + as quietly and as frugally as possible, and from today begin always to set + aside something, lest misfortune again overtake you. Do not, for God’s + sake, worry yourself—Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have you + sent me so much money? I really do not need it—what I had already + would have been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further + funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping before long + to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at least TWENTY roubles + will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but the + remainder shall be returned to you. Pray take care of it, Makar + Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life continue peacefully, and may you + preserve your health and spirits. I would have written to you at greater + length had I not felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left my bed. I + am glad that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you MUST pay me a + visit. + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 11th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I implore you not to leave me now that + I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora says, and I + will do anything in the world for you. I will behave myself better, even + if only out of respect for his Excellency, and guard my every action. Once + more we will exchange cheerful letters with one another, and make mutual + confidence of our thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that we shall + know any more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily and + comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books.... Angel of my heart, + a great change has taken place in my fortunes—a change very much for + the better. My landlady has become more accommodating; Theresa has + recovered her senses; even Phaldoni springs to do my bidding. Likewise, I + have made my peace with Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own accord, + the moment that he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt that he + is a good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that one hears of + him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had any intention of + putting me and yourself into a book. This he told me himself, and then + read to me his latest work. As for his calling me “Lovelace,” he had + intended no rudeness or indecency thereby. The term is merely one of + foreign derivation, meaning a clever fellow, or, in more literary and + elegant language, a gentleman with whom one must reckon. That is all; it + was a mere harmless jest, my beloved. Only ignorance made me lose my + temper, and I have expressed to him my regret.... How beautiful is the + weather today, my little Barbara! True, there was a slight frost in the + early morning, as though scattered through a sieve, but it was nothing, + and the breeze soon freshened the air. I went out to buy some shoes, and + obtained a splendid pair. Then, after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, + I read “The Daily Bee”. This reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you + the most important thing of all. It happened like this: + </p> + <p> + This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti Michaelovitch + concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the only person to whom he + has acted kindly and been charitable, for he is known to the whole world + for his goodness of heart. In many quarters his praises are to be heard; + in many quarters he has called forth tears of gratitude. Among other + things, he undertook the care of an orphaned girl, and married her to an + official, the son of a poor widow, and found this man place in a certain + chancellory, and in other ways benefited him. Well, dearest, I considered + it to be my duty to add my mite by publishing abroad the story of his + Excellency’s gracious treatment of myself. Accordingly, I related the + whole occurrence to my interlocutors, and concealed not a single detail. + In fact, I put my pride into my pocket—though why should I feel + ashamed of having been elated by such an occurrence? “Let it only be + noised afield,” said I to myself, and it will resound greatly to his + Excellency’s credit.—So I expressed myself enthusiastically on the + subject and never faltered. On the contrary, I felt proud to have such a + story to tell. I referred to every one concerned (except to yourself, of + course, dearest)—to my landlady, to Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to + Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my shoes! Some of those standing by + laughed—in fact every one present did so, but probably it was my own + figure or the incident of my shoes—more particularly the latter—that + excited merriment, for I am sure it was not meant ill-naturedly. My + hearers may have been young men, or well off; certainly they cannot have + been laughing with evil intent at what I had said. Anything against his + Excellency CANNOT have been in their thoughts. Eh, Barbara? + </p> + <p> + Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by recent + events.... Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? You must not expose + yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my spirits with your fears for + the future. Daily I pray to God on your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray to Him!... + Likewise, have you any woollen stockings to wear, and warm clothes + generally? Mind you, if there is anything you need, you must not hurt an + old man’s feelings by failing to apply to him for what you require. The + bad times are gone now, and the future is looking bright and fair. + </p> + <p> + But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, and can + no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually recover + ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days I never had a + kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, I was always + light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the Nevski Prospect, and meet + nice-looking people, and be happy all day. Yes, it was a glorious, a + glorious time! It was good to be alive, especially in St. Petersburg. Yet + it is but yesterday that I was beseeching God with tears to pardon me my + sins during the late sorrowful period—to pardon me my murmurings and + evil thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in my + prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you alone have + given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget that, dearest. Today + I gave each one of your letters a kiss.... Goodbye, beloved. I have been + told that there is going to be a sale of clothing somewhere in this + neighbourhood. Once more goodbye, goodbye, my angel—Yours in heart + and soul, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 15th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I am in terrible distress. I feel sure + that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved friend, is that + Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for Thedora has met him. He + was driving along in a drozhki, but, on meeting Thedora, he ordered the + coachman to stop, sprang out, and inquired of her where she was living; + but this she would not tell him. Next, he said with a smile that he knew + quite well who was living with her (evidently Anna Thedorovna had told + him); whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer, but then and there, in + the street, railed at and abused him—telling him that he was an + immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To this he replied that + a person who did not possess a groat must surely be rather badly off; to + which Thedora retorted that I could always either live by the labour of my + hands or marry—that it was not so much a question of my losing posts + as of my losing my happiness, the ruin of which had led almost to my + death. In reply he observed that, though I was still quite young, I seemed + to have lost my wits, and that my “virtue appeared to be under a cloud” (I + quote his exact words). Both I and Thedora had thought that he does not + know where I live; but, last night, just as I had left the house to make a + few purchases in the Gostinni Dvor, he appeared at our rooms (evidently he + had not wanted to find me at home), and put many questions to Thedora + concerning our way of living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up + with: “Who is this tchinovnik friend of yours?” At the moment you happened + to be passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and the + man peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to depart—telling + him that I was still ill from grief, and that it would give me great pain + to see him there; to which, after a pause, he replied that he had come + because he had had nothing better to do. Also, he was for giving Thedora + twenty-five roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What does it all + mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his getting to know + about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however, says that Aksinia, + her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her), is acquainted with a + laundress named Nastasia, and that this woman has a cousin in the position + of watchman to a department of which a certain friend of Anna Thedorovna’s + nephew forms one of the staff. Can it be, therefore, that an intrigue has + been hatched through THIS channel? But Thedora may be entirely mistaken. + We hardly know what to think. What if he should come again? The very + thought terrifies me. When Thedora told me of this last night such terror + seized upon me that I almost swooned away. What can the man be wanting? At + all events, I refuse to know such people. What have they to do with my + wretched self? Ah, how I am haunted with anxiety, for every moment I keep + thinking that Bwikov is at hand! WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has + fate in store for me? For Christ’s sake come and see me, Makar + Alexievitch! For Christ’s sake come and see me soon! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 18th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Today there took place in this house a + most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence. First + of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has been entirely absolved of + guilt. The decision has been long in coming, but this morning he went to + hear the final resolution read. It was entirely in his favour. Any + culpability which had been imputed to him for negligence and irregularity + was removed by the resolution. Likewise, he was authorised to recover of + the merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he stands entirely justified, and + has had his character cleansed from all stain. In short, he could not have + wished for a more complete vindication. When he arrived home at three + o’clock he was looking as white as a sheet, and his lips were quivering. + Yet there was a smile on his face as he embraced his wife and children. In + a body the rest of us ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by + the act. Bowing to us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I + thought, somehow, that he seemed to have grown taller and straighter, and + that the pus-drops seemed to have disappeared from his eyelashes. Yet how + agitated he was, poor fellow! He could not rest quietly for two minutes + together, but kept picking up and then dropping whatsoever came to his + hand, and bowing and smiling without intermission, and sitting down and + getting up, and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what + about his honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did talk—yes, + and weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain from tears; although + Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage Gorshkov) that honour mattered + nothing when one had nothing to eat, and that money was the chief thing in + the world, and that for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he slapped + Gorshkov on the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow seemed hurt + at this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw Rataziaev a + curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. ONCE upon a time he + would not have acted thus; but characters differ. For example, I myself + should have hesitated, at such a season of rejoicing, to seem proud, even + though excessive deference and civility at such a moment might have been + construed as a lapse both of moral courage and of mental vigour. However, + this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov said was: “Yes, money IS a + good thing, glory be to God!” In fact, the whole time that we remained in + his room he kept repeating to himself: “Glory be to God, glory be to God!” + His wife ordered a richer and more delicate meal than usual, and the + landlady herself cooked it, for at heart she is not a bad woman. But until + the meal was served Gorshkov could not remain still. He kept entering + everyone’s room in turn (whether invited thither or not), and, seating + himself smilingly upon a chair, would sometimes say something, and + sometimes not utter a word, but get up and go out again. In the naval + officer’s room he even took a pack of playing-cards into his hand, and was + thereupon invited to make a fourth in a game; but after losing a few + times, as well as making several blunders in his play, he abandoned the + pursuit. “No,” said he, “that is the sort of man that I am—that is + all that I am good for,” and departed. Next, encountering myself in the + corridor, he took my hands in his, and gazed into my face with a rather + curious air. Then he pressed my hands again, and moved away still smiling, + smiling, but in an odd, weary sort of manner, much as a corpse might + smile. Meanwhile his wife was weeping for joy, and everything in their + room was decked in holiday guise. Presently dinner was served, and after + they had dined Gorshkov said to his wife: “See now, dearest, I am going to + rest a little while;” and with that went to bed. Presently he called his + little daughter to his side, and, laying his hand upon the child’s head, + lay a long while looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and + asked her: “What of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?” whereupon his wife + crossed herself, and replied: “Why, our Petinka is dead!” “Yes, yes, I + know—of course,” said her husband. “Petinka is now in the Kingdom of + Heaven.” This showed his wife that her husband was not quite in his right + senses—that the recent occurrence had upset him; so she said: “My + dearest, you must sleep awhile.” “I will do so,” he replied, “—at + once—I am rather—” And he turned over, and lay silent for a + time. Then again he turned round and tried to say something, but his wife + could not hear what it was. “What do you say?” she inquired, but he made + no reply. Then again she waited a few moments until she thought to + herself, “He has gone to sleep,” and departed to spend an hour with the + landlady. At the end of that hour she returned—only to find that her + husband had not yet awoken, but was still lying motionless. “He is + sleeping very soundly,” she reflected as she sat down and began to work at + something or other. Since then she has told us that when half an hour or + so had elapsed she fell into a reverie. What she was thinking of she + cannot remember, save that she had forgotten altogether about her husband. + Then she awoke with a curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first + thing that struck her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at + the bed, she perceived her husband to be lying in the same position as + before. Thereupon she approached him, turned the coverlet back, and saw + that he was stiff and cold—that he had died suddenly, as though + smitten with a stroke. But of what precisely he died God only knows. The + affair has so terribly impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect + my thoughts. It would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so + simply—and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a fate, + what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and panic-stricken, + while his little daughter has run away somewhere to hide herself. In their + room, however, all is bustle and confusion, for the doctors are about to + make an autopsy on the corpse. But I cannot tell you things for certain; I + only know that I am most grieved, most grieved. How sad to think that one + never knows what even a day, what even an hour, may bring forth! One seems + to die to so little purpose!...—Your own + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 19th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to let you know that + Rataziaev has found me some work to do for a certain writer—the + latter having submitted to him a large manuscript. Glory be to God, for + this means a large amount of work to do. Yet, though the copy is wanted in + haste, the original is so carelessly written that I hardly know how to set + about my task. Indeed, certain parts of the manuscript are almost + undecipherable. I have agreed to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. + You see therefore (and this is my true reason for writing to you), that we + shall soon be receiving money from an extraneous source. Goodbye now, as I + must begin upon my labours.—Your sincere friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 23rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—I have not written to you these three + days past for the reason that I have been so worried and alarmed. + </p> + <p> + Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me. At the time I was alone, for + Thedora had gone out somewhere. As soon as I opened the door the sight of + him so terrified me that I stood rooted to the spot, and could feel myself + turning pale. Entering with his usual loud laugh, he took a chair, and sat + down. For a long while I could not collect my thoughts; I just sat where I + was, and went on with my work. Soon his smile faded, for my appearance + seemed somehow to have struck him. You see, of late I have grown thin, and + my eyes and cheeks have fallen in, and my face has become as white as a + sheet; so that anyone who knew me a year ago would scarcely recognise me + now. After a prolonged inspection, Bwikov seemed to recover his spirits, + for he said something to which I duly replied. Then again he laughed. Thus + he sat for a whole hour—talking to me the while, and asking me + questions about one thing and another. At length, just before he rose to + depart, he took me by the hand, and said (to quote his exact words): + “Between ourselves, Barbara Alexievna, that kinswoman of yours and my good + friend and acquaintance—I refer to Anna Thedorovna—is a very + bad woman,” (he also added a grosser term of opprobrium). “First of all + she led your cousin astray, and then she ruined yourself. I also have + behaved like a villain, but such is the way of the world.” Again he + laughed. Next, having remarked that, though not a master of eloquence, he + had always considered that obligations of gentility obliged him to have + with me a clear and outspoken explanation, he went on to say that he + sought my hand in marriage; that he looked upon it as a duty to restore to + me my honour; that he could offer me riches; that, after marriage, he + would take me to his country seat in the Steppes, where we would hunt + hares; that he intended never to visit St. Petersburg again, since + everything there was horrible, and he had to entertain a worthless nephew + whom he had sworn to disinherit in favour of a legal heir; and, finally, + that it was to obtain such a legal heir that he was seeking my hand in + marriage. Lastly, he remarked that I seemed to be living in very poor + circumstances (which was not surprising, said he, in view of the kennel + that I inhabited); that I should die if I remained a month longer in that + den; that all lodgings in St. Petersburg were detestable; and that he + would be glad to know if I was in want of anything. + </p> + <p> + So thunderstruck was I with the proposal that I could only burst into + tears. These tears he interpreted as a sign of gratitude, for he told me + that he had always felt assured of my good sense, cleverness, and + sensibility, but that hitherto he had hesitated to take this step until he + should have learned precisely how I was getting on. Next he asked me some + questions about YOU; saying that he had heard of you as a man of good + principle, and that since he was unwilling to remain your debtor, would a + sum of five hundred roubles repay you for all you had done for me? To this + I replied that your services to myself had been such as could never be + requited with money; whereupon, he exclaimed that I was talking rubbish + and nonsense; that evidently I was still young enough to read poetry; that + romances of this kind were the undoing of young girls, that books only + corrupted morality, and that, for his part, he could not abide them. “You + ought to live as long as I have done,” he added, “and THEN you will see + what men can be.” + With that he requested me to give his proposal my favourable consideration—saying + that he would not like me to take such an important step unguardedly, + since want of thought and impetuosity often spelt ruin to youthful + inexperience, but that he hoped to receive an answer in the affirmative. + “Otherwise,” said he, “I shall have no choice but to marry a certain + merchant’s daughter in Moscow, in order that I may keep my vow to deprive + my nephew of the inheritance.”—Then he pressed five hundred roubles + into my hand—to buy myself some bonbons, as he phrased it—and + wound up by saying that in the country I should grow as fat as a doughnut + or a cheese rolled in butter; that at the present moment he was extremely + busy; and that, deeply engaged in business though he had been all day, he + had snatched the present opportunity of paying me a visit. At length he + departed. + For a long time I sat plunged in reflection. Great though my distress of + mind was, I soon arrived at a decision.... My friend, I am going to marry + this man; I have no choice but to accept his proposal. If anyone could + save me from this squalor, and restore to me my good name, and avert from + me future poverty and want and misfortune, he is the man to do it. What + else have I to look for from the future? What more am I to ask of fate? + Thedora declares that one need NEVER lose one’s happiness; but what, I ask + HER, can be called happiness under such circumstances as mine? At all + events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing else to be + done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot go on working + forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am worn to a shadow with + grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly by nature, I should merely be a + burden upon other folks. Of course this marriage will not bring me + paradise, but what else does there remain, my friend—what else does + there remain? What other choice is left? + </p> + <p> + I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted to think + the matter over alone. However, the decision which you have just read is + unalterable, and I am about to announce it to Bwikov himself, who in any + case has pressed me for a speedy reply, owing to the fact (so he says) + that his business will not wait nor allow him to remain here longer, and + that therefore, no trifle must be allowed to stand in its way. God alone + knows whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His holy, His + inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be + kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be able to + return that respect. What more could be looked for from such a marriage? + </p> + <p> + I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that you will + understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to divert me from my + intention, for all your efforts will be in vain. Think for a moment; weigh + in your heart for a moment all that has led me to take this step. At first + my anguish was extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I know not. + What must be must be, and as God may send.... + </p> + <p> + Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished. Otherwise + I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at the door!... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 23rd. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I hasten to reply to you—I + hasten to express to you my extreme astonishment.... In passing, I may + mention that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov.... + Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly, and you have no choice but to accept him. All + things are in God’s hands. This is so, and must always be so; and the + purposes of the Divine Creator are at once good and inscrutable, as also + is Fate, which is one with Him... + Thedora will share your happiness—for, of course, you will be happy, + and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! But why should + the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course—Monsieur Bwikov’s business + affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see to can afford to disregard + such things. I got a glimpse of Monsieur Bwikov as he was leaving your + door. He is a fine-looking man—a very fine-looking man; though that + is not the point that I should most have noticed had I been quite myself + at the time.... + In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I keep + wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you have said. To + think that just when twenty pages of my copying are completed THIS has + happened!... I suppose you will be able to make many purchases now—to + buy shoes and dresses and all sorts of things? Do you remember the shops + in Gorokhovaia Street of which I used to speak?... + But no. You ought not to go out at present—you simply ought not to, + and shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many things, and + to, keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is bad. Rain is + descending in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking kind of rain that—that + you might catch cold from it, my darling, and the chill might go to your + heart. Why should your fear of this man lead you to take such risks when + all the time I am here to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great + happiness to be awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman, and + evidently desires to ruin you. + Shall you be at the all-night Mass this evening, dearest? I should like to + come and see you there. Yes, Bwikov spoke but the truth when he said that + you are a woman of virtue, wit, and good feeling. Yet I think he would do + far better to marry the merchant’s daughter. What think YOU about it? Yes, + ‘twould be far better for him. As soon as it grows dark tonight I mean to + come and sit with you for an hour. Tonight twilight will close in early, + so I shall soon be with you. Yes, come what may, I mean to see you for an + hour. At present, I suppose, you are expecting Bwikov, but I will come as + soon as he has gone. So stay at home until I have arrived, dearest. + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 27th. + </h2> + <p> + DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—Bwikov has just informed me that I must have + at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and look for + sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since time presses. + Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the fuss which these + fripperies are entailing, seeing that there remain but five days before + the wedding, and we are to depart on the following day. He keeps rushing + about and declaring that no time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am + terribly worried, and scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is so much + to do, and, perhaps, so much that were better left undone! Moreover, I + have no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be purchased, + since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look like a cook, but, + on the contrary, she must “put the noses of the great ladies out of + joint.” That is his expression. I wish, therefore, that you would go to + Madame Chiffon’s, in Gorokhovaia Street, and ask her, in the first place, + to send me some sempstresses, and, in the second place, to give herself + the trouble of coming in person, as I am too ill to go out. Our new flat + is very cold, and still in great disorder. Also, Bwikov has an aunt who is + at her last gasp through old age, and may die before our departure. He + himself, however, declares this to be nothing, and says that she will soon + recover. He is not yet living with me, and I have to go running hither and + thither to find him. Only Thedora is acting as my servant, together with + Bwikov’s valet, who oversees everything, but has been absent for the past three days. + Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. Yesterday he + even had some trouble with the police because of his thrashing the steward + of these buildings... I have no one to send with this letter so I am going + to post it... Ah! I had almost forgotten the most important point—which + is that I should like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon that I wish the + blond lace to be changed in conformity with yesterday’s patterns, if she + will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment. Also say that I + have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to be tamboured with + crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used with monograms on the + various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not smooth work. Do not forget + that it is to be tambour. Another thing I had almost forgotten, which is + that the lappets of the fur cloak must be raised, and the collar bound + with lace. Please tell her these things, Makar Alexievitch.—Your + friend, + </p> + <p> + B. D. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is the + third morning that you will have spent in running about for my sake. But + what else am I to do? The whole place is in disorder, and I myself am ill. + Do not be vexed with me, Makar Alexievitch. I am feeling so depressed! + What is going to become of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old Makar + Alexievitch? I dread to look forward into the future. Somehow I feel + apprehensive; I am living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God’s sake, + forget none of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make a + mistake! Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 27th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—I have carefully fulfilled your + commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had thought of + using tambour work as being more suitable (though I did not quite take in + all she said). Also, she has informed me that, since you have given + certain directions in writing, she has followed them (though again I do + not clearly remember all that she said—I only remember that she said + a very great deal, for she is a most tiresome old woman). These + observations she will soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I + feel absolutely exhausted, and have not been to the office today... + Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I would + visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare not look + forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven o’clock, you will have + learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have arrived in person to see you. + Hope on, and everything will order itself for the best. Of course, I am + referring only to these accursed gewgaws, to these frills and fripperies! + Ah me, ah me, how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes, how glad I + shall be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your abode. + Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that—Well, things + are as they are. + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—For God’s sake go to the jeweller’s, + and tell him that, after all, he need not make the pearl and emerald + earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will cost him too much, that they + will burn a veritable hole in his pocket. In fact, he has lost his temper + again, and declares that he is being robbed. Yesterday he added that, had + he but known, but foreseen, these expenses, he would never have married. + Also, he says that, as things are, he intends only to have a plain + wedding, and then to depart. “You must not look for any dancing or + festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are still in the + air.” Such were his words. God knows I do not want such things, but none + the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made him no answer on the subject, + for he is a man all too easily irritated. What, what is going to become of + me? + </p> + <p> + B. D. <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 28th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—All is well as regards the jeweller. + Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have fallen ill, and + cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things need to be done, I have + gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! Also I have to tell you that, + to complete my misfortunes, his Excellency has been pleased to become + stricter. Today he railed at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until the poor + fellow was quite put about. That is the sum of my news. + No—there is something else concerning which I should like to write + to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a simple, dull + fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head—Your + friend, + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 29th. + </h2> + <p> + MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who + informed me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the following day + to go away—for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a post-chaise.... + </p> + <p> + Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. Also I + have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia Street. It is correct, + but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so out of humour with you? Nay, but + you must be of good cheer, my darling. I am so, and shall always be so, so + long as you are happy. I should have come to the church tomorrow, but, + alas, shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my loins. Also, I + would have written an account of the ceremony, but that there will be no + one to report to me the details.... + </p> + <p> + Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You have acted + kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed God will bless you. + Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does virtue ever fail to win the crown + of divine justice, be it early or be it late. Much else should I have + liked to write to you. Every hour, every minute I could occupy in writing. + Indeed I could write to you forever! Only your book, “The Stories of + Bielkin”, is left to me. Do not deprive me of it, I pray you, but suffer + me to keep it. It is not so much because I wish to read the book for its + own sake, as because winter is coming on, when the evenings will be long + and dreary, and one will want to read at least SOMETHING. + </p> + <p> + Do you know, I am going to move from my present quarters into your old + ones, which I intend to rent from Thedora; for I could never part with + that good old woman. Moreover, she is such a splendid worker. Yesterday I + inspected your empty room in detail, and inspected your embroidery-frame, + with the work still hanging on it. It had been left untouched in its + corner. Next, I inspected the work itself, of which there still remained a + few remnants, and saw that you had used one of my letters for a spool upon + which to wind your thread. Also, on the table I found a scrap of paper + which had written on it, “My dearest Makar Alexievitch I hasten to—” + that was all. Evidently, someone had interrupted you at an interesting + point. Lastly, behind a screen there was your little bed.... Oh darling of + darlings!!!... Well, goodbye now, goodbye now, but for God’s sake send me + something in answer to this letter! + </p> + <p> + MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 30th. + </h2> + <p> + MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,—All is over! The die is cast! What my + lot may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the will of God. + Tomorrow, then, we depart. For the last time, I take my leave of you, my + friend beyond price, my benefactor, my dear one! Do not grieve for me, but + try to live happily. Think of me sometimes, and may the blessing of + Almighty God light upon you! For myself, I shall often have you in + remembrance, and recall you in my prayers. Thus our time together has come + to an end. Little comfort in my new life shall I derive from memories of + the past. The more, therefore, shall I cherish the recollection of you, + and the dearer will you ever be to my heart. Here, you have been my only + friend; here, you alone have loved me. Yes, I have seen all, I have known + all—I have throughout known how well you love me. A single smile of + mine, a single stroke from my pen, has been able to make you happy.... But + now you must forget me.... How lonely you will be! Why should you stay + here at all, kind, inestimable, but solitary, friend of mine? + To your care I entrust the book, the embroidery frame, and the letter upon + which I had begun. When you look upon the few words which the letter + contains you will be able mentally to read in thought all that you would + have liked further to hear or receive from me—all that I would so + gladly have written, but can never now write. Think sometimes of your poor + little Barbara who loved you so well. All your letters I have left behind + me in the top drawer of Thedora’s chest of drawers... You write that you + are ill, but Monsieur Bwikov will not let me leave the house today; so + that I can only write to you. Also, I will write again before long. That + is a promise. Yet God only knows when I shall be able to do so.... + Now we must bid one another forever farewell, my friend, my beloved, my + own! Yes, it must be forever! Ah, how at this moment I could embrace you! + Goodbye, dear friend—goodbye, goodbye! May you ever rest well and + happy! To the end I shall keep you in my prayers. How my heart is aching + under its load of sorrow!... Monsieur Bwikov is just calling for me....—Your + ever loving + </p> + <p> + B. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—My heart is full! It is full to bursting of tears! Sorrow has + me in its grip, and is tearing me to pieces. Goodbye. My God, what grief! + Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara! + </p> + <p> + BELOVED BARBARA—MY JEWEL, MY PRICELESS ONE,—You are now almost + en route, you are now just about to depart! Would that they had torn my + heart out of my breast rather than have taken you away from me! How could + you allow it? You weep, yet you go! And only this moment I have received + from you a letter stained with your tears! It must be that you are + departing unwillingly; it must be that you are being abducted against your + will; it must be that you are sorry for me; it must be that—that you + LOVE me!... + Yet how will it fare with you now? Your heart will soon have become + chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon have sucked away its life; + grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, you will die where you be, and + be laid to rest in the cold, moist earth where there is no one to bewail + you. Monsieur Bwikov will only be hunting hares!... + Ah, my darling, my darling! WHY did you come to this decision? How could + you bring yourself to take such a step? What have you done, have you done, + have you done? Soon they will be carrying you away to the tomb; soon your + beauty will have become defiled, my angel. Ah, dearest one, you are as + weak as a feather. And where have I been all this time? What have I been + thinking of? I have treated you merely as a forward child whose head was + aching. Fool that I was, I neither saw nor understood. I have behaved as + though, right or wrong, the matter was in no way my concern. Yes, I have + been running about after fripperies!... Ah, but I WILL leave my bed. + Tomorrow I WILL rise sound and well, and be once more myself.... + Dearest, I could throw myself under the wheels of a passing vehicle rather + than that you should go like this. By what right is it being done?... I + will go with you; I will run behind your carriage if you will not take me—yes, + I will run, and run so long as the power is in me, and until my breath + shall have failed. Do you know whither you are going? Perhaps you will not + know, and will have to ask me? Before you there lie the Steppes, my + darling—only the Steppes, the naked Steppes, the Steppes that are as + bare as the palm of my hand. THERE there live only heartless old women and + rude peasants and drunkards. THERE the trees have already shed their + leaves. THERE there abide but rain and cold. Why should you go thither? + True, Monsieur Bwikov will have his diversions in that country—he + will be able to hunt the hare; but what of yourself? Do you wish to become + a mere estate lady? Nay; look at yourself, my seraph of heaven. Are you in + any way fitted for such a role? How could you play it? To whom should I + write letters? To whom should I send these missives? Whom should I call + “my darling”? To whom should I apply that name of endearment? Where, too, + could I find you? + When you are gone, Barbara, I shall die—for certain I shall die, for + my heart cannot bear this misery. I love you as I love the light of God; I + love you as my own daughter; to you I have devoted my love in its + entirety; only for you have I lived at all; only because you were near me + have I worked and copied manuscripts and committed my views to paper under + the guise of friendly letters. + Perhaps you did not know all this, but it has been so. How, then, my + beloved, could you bring yourself to leave me? Nay, you MUST not go—it + is impossible, it is sheerly, it is utterly, impossible. The rain will + fall upon you, and you are weak, and will catch cold. The floods will stop + your carriage. No sooner will it have passed the city barriers than it + will break down, purposely break down. Here, in St. Petersburg, they are + bad builders of carriages. Yes, I know well these carriage-builders. They + are jerry-builders who can fashion a toy, but nothing that is durable. + Yes, I swear they can make nothing that is durable.... All that I can do + is to go upon my knees before Monsieur Bwikov, and to tell him all, to + tell him all. Do you also tell him all, dearest, and reason with him. Tell + him that you MUST remain here, and must not go. Ah, why did he not marry + that merchant’s daughter in Moscow? Let him go and marry her now. She + would suit him far better and for reasons which I well know. Then I could + keep you. For what is he to you, this Monsieur Bwikov? Why has he suddenly + become so dear to your heart? Is it because he can buy you gewgaws? What + are THEY? What use are THEY? They are so much rubbish. One should consider + human life rather than mere finery. + Nevertheless, as soon as I have received my next instalment of salary I + mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to buy it at a shop with which I am + acquainted. Only, you must wait until my next installment is due, my angel + of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To think that you are going away into the + Steppes with Monsieur Bwikov—that you are going away never to + return!... Nay, nay, but you SHALL write to me. You SHALL write me a + letter as soon as you have started, even if it be your last letter of all, + my dearest. Yet will it be your last letter? How has it come about so + suddenly, so irrevocably, that this letter should be your last? Nay, nay; + I will write, and you shall write—yes, NOW, when at length I am + beginning to improve my style. Style? I do not know what I am writing. I + never do know what I am writing. I could not possibly know, for I never + read over what I have written, nor correct its orthography. At the present + moment, I am writing merely for the sake of writing, and to put as much as + possible into this last letter of mine.... + </p> + <p> + Ah, dearest, my pet, my own darling!... + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + +***** This file should be named 2302-h.htm or 2302-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2302/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation’s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/2302.txt b/old/2302.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4184ea7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2302.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5274 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poor Folk + +Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translator: C. J. Hogarth + +Release Date: August, 2000 [EBook #2302] +Last Updated: July 20, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson + + + + + +POOR FOLK + +By Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +Translated by C. J. Hogarth + + + + +April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--How happy I was last night--how +immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your +life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight +o'clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like +to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)--I awoke, I say, and, +lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then +suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes--and felt my +very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had +understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner +of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the +cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your +dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me +from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of +me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face +clearly! For there was a time when you and I could see one another +without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a +blessing, my beloved one! At this very moment everything is standing +awry to my eyes, for a man needs only to work late overnight in his +writing of something or other for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, +and the tears to be gushing from them in a way that makes him ashamed to +be seen before strangers. However, I was able to picture to myself your +beaming smile, my angel--your kind, bright smile; and in my heart there +lurked just such a feeling as on the occasion when I first kissed you, +my little Barbara. Do you remember that, my darling? Yet somehow you +seemed to be threatening me with your tiny finger. Was it so, little +wanton? You must write and tell me about it in your next letter. + +But what think you of the plan of the curtain, Barbara? It is a charming +one, is it not? No matter whether I be at work, or about to retire to +rest, or just awaking from sleep, it enables me to know that you are +thinking of me, and remembering me--that you are both well and happy. +Then when you lower the curtain, it means that it is time that I, Makar +Alexievitch, should go to bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it +means that you are saying to me, "Good morning," and asking me how I am, +and whether I have slept well. "As for myself," adds the curtain, "I am +altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!" Yes, my heart's +delight, you see how easy a plan it was to devise, and how much writing +it will save us! It is a clever plan, is it not? And it was my own +invention, too! Am I not cunning in such matters, Barbara Alexievna? + +Well, next let me tell you, dearest, that last night I slept better +and more soundly than I had ever hoped to do, and that I am the more +delighted at the fact in that, as you know, I had just settled into a +new lodging--a circumstance only too apt to keep one from sleeping! This +morning, too, I arose (joyous and full of love) at cockcrow. How good +seemed everything at that hour, my darling! When I opened my window I +could see the sun shining, and hear the birds singing, and smell the air +laden with scents of spring. In short, all nature was awaking to life +again. Everything was in consonance with my mood; everything seemed fair +and spring-like. Moreover, I had a fancy that I should fare well today. +But my whole thoughts were bent upon you. "Surely," thought I, "we +mortals who dwell in pain and sorrow might with reason envy the birds +of heaven which know not either!" And my other thoughts were similar +to these. In short, I gave myself up to fantastic comparisons. A little +book which I have says the same kind of thing in a variety of ways. For +instance, it says that one may have many, many fancies, my Barbara--that +as soon as the spring comes on, one's thoughts become uniformly pleasant +and sportive and witty, for the reason that, at that season, the mind +inclines readily to tenderness, and the world takes on a more roseate +hue. From that little book of mine I have culled the following passage, +and written it down for you to see. In particular does the author +express a longing similar to my own, where he writes: + +"Why am I not a bird free to seek its quest?" + +And he has written much else, God bless him! + +But tell me, my love--where did you go for your walk this morning? Even +before I had started for the office you had taken flight from your room, +and passed through the courtyard--yes, looking as vernal-like as a +bird in spring. What rapture it gave me to see you! Ah, little Barbara, +little Barbara, you must never give way to grief, for tears are of no +avail, nor sorrow. I know this well--I know it of my own experience. So +do you rest quietly until you have regained your health a little. But +how is our good Thedora? What a kind heart she has! You write that she +is now living with you, and that you are satisfied with what she does. +True, you say that she is inclined to grumble, but do not mind that, +Barbara. God bless her, for she is an excellent soul! + +But what sort of an abode have I lighted upon, Barbara Alexievna? What +sort of a tenement, do you think, is this? Formerly, as you know, I used +to live in absolute stillness--so much so that if a fly took wing +it could plainly be heard buzzing. Here, however, all is turmoil and +shouting and clatter. The PLAN of the tenement you know already. Imagine +a long corridor, quite dark, and by no means clean. To the right a dead +wall, and to the left a row of doors stretching as far as the line of +rooms extends. These rooms are tenanted by different people--by one, +by two, or by three lodgers as the case may be, but in this arrangement +there is no sort of system, and the place is a perfect Noah's Ark. Most +of the lodgers are respectable, educated, and even bookish people. In +particular they include a tchinovnik (one of the literary staff in some +government department), who is so well-read that he can expound Homer or +any other author--in fact, ANYTHING, such a man of talent is he! Also, +there are a couple of officers (for ever playing cards), a midshipman, +and an English tutor. But, to amuse you, dearest, let me describe these +people more categorically in my next letter, and tell you in detail +about their lives. As for our landlady, she is a dirty little old woman +who always walks about in a dressing-gown and slippers, and never ceases +to shout at Theresa. I myself live in the kitchen--or, rather, in a +small room which forms part of the kitchen. The latter is a very large, +bright, clean, cheerful apartment with three windows in it, and a +partition-wall which, running outwards from the front wall, makes a sort +of little den, a sort of extra room, for myself. Everything in this den +is comfortable and convenient, and I have, as I say, a window to myself. +So much for a description of my dwelling-place. Do not think, dearest, +that in all this there is any hidden intention. The fact that I live in +the kitchen merely means that I live behind the partition wall in that +apartment--that I live quite alone, and spend my time in a quiet fashion +compounded of trifles. For furniture I have provided myself with a +bed, a table, a chest of drawers, and two small chairs. Also, I have +suspended an ikon. True, better rooms MAY exist in the world than +this--much better rooms; yet COMFORT is the chief thing. In fact, I +have made all my arrangements for comfort's sake alone; so do not for a +moment imagine that I had any other end in view. And since your window +happens to be just opposite to mine, and since the courtyard between us +is narrow and I can see you as you pass,--why, the result is that this +miserable wretch will be able to live at once more happily and with less +outlay. The dearest room in this house costs, with board, thirty-five +roubles--more than my purse could well afford; whereas MY room costs +only twenty-four, though formerly I used to pay thirty, and so had to +deny myself many things (I could drink tea but seldom, and never could +indulge in tea and sugar as I do now). But, somehow, I do not like +having to go without tea, for everyone else here is respectable, and the +fact makes me ashamed. After all, one drinks tea largely to please one's +fellow men, Barbara, and to give oneself tone and an air of gentility +(though, of myself, I care little about such things, for I am not a +man of the finicking sort). Yet think you that, when all things +needful--boots and the rest--have been paid for, much will remain? Yet I +ought not to grumble at my salary,--I am quite satisfied with it; it is +sufficient. It has sufficed me now for some years, and, in addition, I +receive certain gratuities. + +Well good-bye, my darling. I have bought you two little pots of +geraniums--quite cheap little pots, too--as a present. Perhaps you would +also like some mignonette? Mignonette it shall be if only you will write +to inform me of everything in detail. Also, do not misunderstand the +fact that I have taken this room, my dearest. Convenience and nothing +else, has made me do so. The snugness of the place has caught my fancy. +Also, I shall be able to save money here, and to hoard it against the +future. Already I have saved a little money as a beginning. Nor must +you despise me because I am such an insignificant old fellow that a fly +could break me with its wing. True, I am not a swashbuckler; but perhaps +there may also abide in me the spirit which should pertain to every man +who is at once resigned and sure of himself. Good-bye, then, again, my +angel. I have now covered close upon a whole two sheets of notepaper, +though I ought long ago to have been starting for the office. I kiss +your hands, and remain ever your devoted slave, your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--One thing I beg of you above all things--and that is, that you +will answer this letter as FULLY as possible. With the letter I send you +a packet of bonbons. Eat them for your health's sake, nor, for the love +of God, feel any uneasiness about me. Once more, dearest one, good-bye. + + + + +April 8th + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do you know, must quarrel with you. Yes, +good Makar Alexievitch, I really cannot accept your presents, for I know +what they must have cost you--I know to what privations and self-denial +they must have led. How many times have I not told you that I stand in +need of NOTHING, of absolutely NOTHING, as well as that I shall never be +in a position to recompense you for all the kindly acts with which you +have loaded me? Why, for instance, have you sent me geraniums? A little +sprig of balsam would not have mattered so much--but geraniums! Only +have I to let fall an unguarded word--for example, about geraniums--and +at once you buy me some! How much they must have cost you! Yet what a +charm there is in them, with their flaming petals! Wherever did you +get these beautiful plants? I have set them in my window as the most +conspicuous place possible, while on the floor I have placed a bench +for my other flowers to stand on (since you are good enough to enrich me +with such presents). Unfortunately, Thedora, who, with her sweeping and +polishing, makes a perfect sanctuary of my room, is not over-pleased +at the arrangement. But why have you sent me also bonbons? Your letter +tells me that something special is afoot with you, for I find in it so +much about paradise and spring and sweet odours and the songs of birds. +Surely, thought I to myself when I received it, this is as good as +poetry! Indeed, verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, +Makar Alexievitch. And what tender feelings I can read in it--what +roseate-coloured fancies! To the curtain, however, I had never given a +thought. The fact is that when I moved the flower-pots, it LOOPED ITSELF +up. There now! + +Ah, Makar Alexievitch, you neither speak of nor give any account of what +you have spent upon me. You hope thereby to deceive me, to make it +seem as though the cost always falls upon you alone, and that there +is nothing to conceal. Yet I KNOW that for my sake you deny yourself +necessaries. For instance, what has made you go and take the room which +you have done, where you will be worried and disturbed, and where you +have neither elbow-space nor comfort--you who love solitude, and never +like to have any one near you? To judge from your salary, I should think +that you might well live in greater ease than that. Also, Thedora tells +me that your circumstances used to be much more affluent than they are +at present. Do you wish, then, to persuade me that your whole existence +has been passed in loneliness and want and gloom, with never a cheering +word to help you, nor a seat in a friend's chimney-corner? Ah, kind +comrade, how my heart aches for you! But do not overtask your health, +Makar Alexievitch. For instance, you say that your eyes are over-weak +for you to go on writing in your office by candle-light. Then why do so? +I am sure that your official superiors do not need to be convinced of +your diligence! + +Once more I implore you not to waste so much money upon me. I know +how much you love me, but I also know that you are not rich.... This +morning I too rose in good spirits. Thedora had long been at work; and +it was time that I too should bestir myself. Indeed I was yearning to +do so, so I went out for some silk, and then sat down to my labours. All +the morning I felt light-hearted and cheerful. Yet now my thoughts are +once more dark and sad--once more my heart is ready to sink. + +Ah, what is going to become of me? What will be my fate? To have to be +so uncertain as to the future, to have to be unable to foretell what is +going to happen, distresses me deeply. Even to look back at the past +is horrible, for it contains sorrow that breaks my very heart at the +thought of it. Yes, a whole century in tears could I spend because of +the wicked people who have wrecked my life! + +But dusk is coming on, and I must set to work again. Much else should I +have liked to write to you, but time is lacking, and I must hasten. Of +course, to write this letter is a pleasure enough, and could never be +wearisome; but why do you not come to see me in person? Why do you not, +Makar Alexievitch? You live so close to me, and at least SOME of your +time is your own. I pray you, come. I have just seen Theresa. She was +looking so ill, and I felt so sorry for her, that I gave her twenty +kopecks. I am almost falling asleep. Write to me in fullest detail, both +concerning your mode of life, and concerning the people who live with +you, and concerning how you fare with them. I should so like to know! +Yes, you must write again. Tonight I have purposely looped the curtain +up. Go to bed early, for, last night, I saw your candle burning until +nearly midnight. Goodbye! I am now feeling sad and weary. Ah that +I should have to spend such days as this one has been. Again +good-bye.--Your friend, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +April 8th + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--To think that a day like this should have +fallen to my miserable lot! Surely you are making fun of an old man?... +However, it was my own fault--my own fault entirely. One ought not to +grow old holding a lock of Cupid's hair in one's hand. Naturally one is +misunderstood.... Yet man is sometimes a very strange being. By all the +Saints, he will talk of doing things, yet leave them undone, and remain +looking the kind of fool from whom may the Lord preserve us!... Nay, I +am not angry, my beloved; I am only vexed to think that I should have +written to you in such stupid, flowery phraseology. Today I went hopping +and skipping to the office, for my heart was under your influence, and +my soul was keeping holiday, as it were. Yes, everything seemed to +be going well with me. Then I betook myself to my work. But with what +result? I gazed around at the old familiar objects, at the old familiar +grey and gloomy objects. They looked just the same as before. Yet +WERE those the same inkstains, the same tables and chairs, that I had +hitherto known? Yes, they WERE the same, exactly the same; so why should +I have gone off riding on Pegasus' back? Whence had that mood arisen? +It had arisen from the fact that a certain sun had beamed upon me, and +turned the sky to blue. But why so? Why is it, sometimes, that sweet +odours seem to be blowing through a courtyard where nothing of the sort +can be? They must be born of my foolish fancy, for a man may stray so +far into sentiment as to forget his immediate surroundings, and to give +way to the superfluity of fond ardour with which his heart is charged. +On the other hand, as I walked home from the office at nightfall my feet +seemed to lag, and my head to be aching. Also, a cold wind seemed to be +blowing down my back (enraptured with the spring, I had gone out clad +only in a thin overcoat). Yet you have misunderstood my sentiments, +dearest. They are altogether different to what you suppose. It is a +purely paternal feeling that I have for you. I stand towards you in +the position of a relative who is bound to watch over your lonely +orphanhood. This I say in all sincerity, and with a single purpose, +as any kinsman might do. For, after all, I AM a distant kinsman of +yours--the seventh drop of water in the pudding, as the proverb has +it--yet still a kinsman, and at the present time your nearest relative +and protector, seeing that where you had the right to look for help and +protection, you found only treachery and insult. As for poetry, I may +say that I consider it unbecoming for a man of my years to devote his +faculties to the making of verses. Poetry is rubbish. Even boys at +school ought to be whipped for writing it. + +Why do you write thus about "comfort" and "peace" and the rest? I am +not a fastidious man, nor one who requires much. Never in my life have I +been so comfortable as now. Why, then, should I complain in my old age? +I have enough to eat, I am well dressed and booted. Also, I have my +diversions. You see, I am not of noble blood. My father himself was not +a gentleman; he and his family had to live even more plainly than I do. +Nor am I a milksop. Nevertheless, to speak frankly, I do not like my +present abode so much as I used to like my old one. Somehow the latter +seemed more cosy, dearest. Of course, this room is a good one enough; +in fact, in SOME respects it is the more cheerful and interesting of the +two. I have nothing to say against it--no. Yet I miss the room that used +to be so familiar to me. Old lodgers like myself soon grow as attached +to our chattels as to a kinsman. My old room was such a snug little +place! True, its walls resembled those of any other room--I am not +speaking of that; the point is that the recollection of them seems to +haunt my mind with sadness. Curious that recollections should be so +mournful! Even what in that room used to vex me and inconvenience me now +looms in a purified light, and figures in my imagination as a thing to +be desired. We used to live there so quietly--I and an old landlady +who is now dead. How my heart aches to remember her, for she was a good +woman, and never overcharged for her rooms. Her whole time was spent in +making patchwork quilts with knitting-needles that were an arshin [An +ell.] long. Oftentimes we shared the same candle and board. Also she had +a granddaughter, Masha--a girl who was then a mere baby, but must now be +a girl of thirteen. This little piece of mischief, how she used to make +us laugh the day long! We lived together, a happy family of three. Often +of a long winter's evening we would first have tea at the big round +table, and then betake ourselves to our work; the while that, to amuse +the child and to keep her out of mischief, the old lady would set +herself to tell stories. What stories they were!--though stories less +suitable for a child than for a grown-up, educated person. My word! Why, +I myself have sat listening to them, as I smoked my pipe, until I have +forgotten about work altogether. And then, as the story grew grimmer, +the little child, our little bag of mischief, would grow thoughtful in +proportion, and clasp her rosy cheeks in her tiny hands, and, hiding her +face, press closer to the old landlady. Ah, how I loved to see her at +those moments! As one gazed at her one would fail to notice how the +candle was flickering, or how the storm was swishing the snow about the +courtyard. Yes, that was a goodly life, my Barbara, and we lived it +for nearly twenty years.... How my tongue does carry me away! Maybe +the subject does not interest you, and I myself find it a not over-easy +subject to recall--especially at the present time. + +Darkness is falling, and Theresa is busying herself with something or +another. My head and my back are aching, and even my thoughts seem to +be in pain, so strangely do they occur. Yes, my heart is sad today, +Barbara.... What is it you have written to me?----"Why do you not come +in PERSON to see me?" Dear one, what would people say? I should have +but to cross the courtyard for people to begin noticing us, and asking +themselves questions. Gossip and scandal would arise, and there would be +read into the affair quite another meaning than the real one. No, little +angel, it were better that I should see you tomorrow at Vespers. That +will be the better plan, and less hurtful to us both. Nor must you chide +me, beloved, because I have written you a letter like this (reading it +through, I see it to be all odds and ends); for I am an old man now, +dear Barbara, and an uneducated one. Little learning had I in my youth, +and things refuse to fix themselves in my brain when I try to learn +them anew. No, I am not skilled in letter-writing, Barbara, and, without +being told so, or any one laughing at me for it, I know that, whenever +I try to describe anything with more than ordinary distinctness, I fall +into the mistake of talking sheer rubbish.... I saw you at your window +today--yes, I saw you as you were drawing down the blind! Good-bye, +goodbye, little Barbara, and may God keep you! Good-bye, my own Barbara +Alexievna!--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--Do not think that I could write to you in a satirical vein, for I +am too old to show my teeth to no purpose, and people would laugh at me, +and quote our Russian proverb: "Who diggeth a pit for another one, the +same shall fall into it himself." + + + + +April 9th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Are not you, my friend and benefactor, +just a little ashamed to repine and give way to such despondency? And +surely you are not offended with me? Ah! Though often thoughtless in my +speech, I never should have imagined that you would take my words as +a jest at your expense. Rest assured that NEVER should I make sport of +your years or of your character. Only my own levity is at fault; still +more, the fact that I am so weary of life. + +What will such a feeling not engender? To tell you the truth, I had +supposed that YOU were jesting in your letter; wherefore, my heart was +feeling heavy at the thought that you could feel so displeased with +me. Kind comrade and helper, you will be doing me an injustice if for +a single moment you ever suspect that I am lacking in feeling or in +gratitude towards you. My heart, believe me, is able to appraise at +its true worth all that you have done for me by protecting me from my +enemies, and from hatred and persecution. Never shall I cease to pray +to God for you; and, should my prayers ever reach Him and be received of +Heaven, then assuredly fortune will smile upon you! + +Today I am not well. By turns I shiver and flush with heat, and Thedora +is greatly disturbed about me.... Do not scruple to come and see me, +Makar Alexievitch. How can it concern other people what you do? You and +I are well enough acquainted with each other, and one's own affairs are +one's own affairs. Goodbye, Makar Alexievitch, for I have come to the +end of all I had to say, and am feeling too unwell to write more. Again +I beg of you not to be angry with me, but to rest assured of my constant +respect and attachment.--Your humble, devoted servant, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +April 12th + +DEAREST MISTRESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I pray you, my beloved, to tell +me what ails you. Every one of your letters fills me with alarm. On the +other hand, in every letter I urge you to be more careful of yourself, +and to wrap up yourself warmly, and to avoid going out in bad weather, +and to be in all things prudent. Yet you go and disobey me! Ah, little +angel, you are a perfect child! I know well that you are as weak as a +blade of grass, and that, no matter what wind blows upon you, you are +ready to fade. But you must be careful of yourself, dearest; you MUST +look after yourself better; you MUST avoid all risks, lest you plunge +your friends into desolation and despair. + +Dearest, you also express a wish to learn the details of my daily life +and surroundings. That wish I hasten to satisfy. Let me begin at +the beginning, since, by doing so, I shall explain things more +systematically. In the first place, on entering this house, one passes +into a very bare hall, and thence along a passage to a mean staircase. +The reception room, however, is bright, clean, and spacious, and is +lined with redwood and metal-work. But the scullery you would not care +to see; it is greasy, dirty, and odoriferous, while the stairs are in +rags, and the walls so covered with filth that the hand sticks fast +wherever it touches them. Also, on each landing there is a medley of +boxes, chairs, and dilapidated wardrobes; while the windows have had +most of their panes shattered, and everywhere stand washtubs filled with +dirt, litter, eggshells, and fish-bladders. The smell is abominable. In +short, the house is not a nice one. + +As to the disposition of the rooms, I have described it to you +already. True, they are convenient enough, yet every one of them has an +ATMOSPHERE. I do not mean that they smell badly so much as that each of +them seems to contain something which gives forth a rank, sickly-sweet +odour. At first the impression is an unpleasant one, but a couple of +minutes will suffice to dissipate it, for the reason that EVERYTHING +here smells--people's clothes, hands, and everything else--and one grows +accustomed to the rankness. Canaries, however, soon die in this house. A +naval officer here has just bought his fifth. Birds cannot live long +in such an air. Every morning, when fish or beef is being cooked, and +washing and scrubbing are in progress, the house is filled with steam. +Always, too, the kitchen is full of linen hanging out to dry; and since +my room adjoins that apartment, the smell from the clothes causes me not +a little annoyance. However, one can grow used to anything. + +From earliest dawn the house is astir as its inmates rise, walk about, +and stamp their feet. That is to say, everyone who has to go to work +then gets out of bed. First of all, tea is partaken of. Most of the +tea-urns belong to the landlady; and since there are not very many of +them, we have to wait our turn. Anyone who fails to do so will find +his teapot emptied and put away. On the first occasion, that was what +happened to myself. Well, is there anything else to tell you? Already I +have made the acquaintance of the company here. The naval officer took +the initiative in calling upon me, and his frankness was such that he +told me all about his father, his mother, his sister (who is married to +a lawyer of Tula), and the town of Kronstadt. Also, he promised me +his patronage, and asked me to come and take tea with him. I kept the +appointment in a room where card-playing is continually in progress; +and, after tea had been drunk, efforts were made to induce me to gamble. +Whether or not my refusal seemed to the company ridiculous I cannot +say, but at all events my companions played the whole evening, and were +playing when I left. The dust and smoke in the room made my eyes ache. +I declined, as I say, to play cards, and was, therefore, requested to +discourse on philosophy, after which no one spoke to me at all--a result +which I did not regret. In fact, I have no intention of going there +again, since every one is for gambling, and for nothing but gambling. +Even the literary tchinovnik gives such parties in his room--though, in +his case, everything is done delicately and with a certain refinement, +so that the thing has something of a retiring and innocent air. + +In passing, I may tell you that our landlady is NOT a nice woman. In +fact, she is a regular beldame. You have seen her once, so what do you +think of her? She is as lanky as a plucked chicken in consumption, +and, with Phaldoni (her servant), constitutes the entire staff of the +establishment. Whether or not Phaldoni has any other name I do not know, +but at least he answers to this one, and every one calls him by it. +A red-haired, swine-jowled, snub-nosed, crooked lout, he is for ever +wrangling with Theresa, until the pair nearly come to blows. In short, +life is not overly pleasant in this place. Never at any time is the +household wholly at rest, for always there are people sitting up to +play cards. Sometimes, too, certain things are done of which it would +be shameful for me to speak. In particular, hardened though I am, it +astonishes me that men WITH FAMILIES should care to live in this Sodom. +For example, there is a family of poor folk who have rented from the +landlady a room which does not adjoin the other rooms, but is set apart +in a corner by itself. Yet what quiet people they are! Not a sound is +to be heard from them. The father--he is called Gorshkov--is a little +grey-headed tchinovnik who, seven years ago, was dismissed from public +service, and now walks about in a coat so dirty and ragged that it hurts +one to see it. Indeed it is a worse coat even than mine! Also, he is +so thin and frail (at times I meet him in the corridor) that his knees +quake under him, his hands and head are tremulous with some disease +(God only knows what!), and he so fears and distrusts everybody that he +always walks alone. Reserved though I myself am, he is even worse. As +for his family, it consists of a wife and three children. The eldest of +the latter--a boy--is as frail as his father, while the mother--a woman +who, formerly, must have been good looking, and still has a striking +aspect in spite of her pallor--goes about in the sorriest of rags. Also +I have heard that they are in debt to our landlady, as well as that she +is not overly kind to them. Moreover, I have heard that Gorshkov lost +his post through some unpleasantness or other--through a legal suit +or process of which I could not exactly tell you the nature. Yes, they +certainly are poor--Oh, my God, how poor! At the same time, never a +sound comes from their room. It is as though not a soul were living in +it. Never does one hear even the children--which is an unusual thing, +seeing that children are ever ready to sport and play, and if they fail +to do so it is a bad sign. One evening when I chanced to be passing the +door of their room, and all was quiet in the house, I heard through the +door a sob, and then a whisper, and then another sob, as though somebody +within were weeping, and with such subdued bitterness that it tore my +heart to hear the sound. In fact, the thought of these poor people never +left me all night, and quite prevented me from sleeping. + +Well, good-bye, my little Barbara, my little friend beyond price. I have +described to you everything to the best of my ability. All today you +have been in my thoughts; all today my heart has been yearning for you. +I happen to know, dearest one, that you lack a warm cloak. To me too, +these St. Petersburg springs, with their winds and their snow showers, +spell death. Good heavens, how the breezes bite one! Do not be angry, +beloved, that I should write like this. Style I have not. Would that +I had! I write just what wanders into my brain, in the hope that I may +cheer you up a little. Of course, had I had a good education, things +might have been different; but, as things were, I could not have +one. Never did I learn even to do simple sums!--Your faithful and +unchangeable friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +April 25th + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today I met my cousin Sasha. To see her +going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly. Moreover, it has reached +me, through a side wind, that she has been making inquiry for me, and +dogging my footsteps, under the pretext that she wishes to pardon me, to +forget the past, and to renew our acquaintance. Well, among other things +she told me that, whereas you are not a kinsman of mine, that she is my +nearest relative; that you have no right whatever to enter into family +relations with us; and that it is wrong and shameful for me to be +living upon your earnings and charity. Also, she said that I must have +forgotten all that she did for me, though thereby she saved both myself +and my mother from starvation, and gave us food and drink; that for two +and a half years we caused her great loss; and, above all things, that +she excused us what we owed her. Even my poor mother she did not spare. +Would that she, my dead parent, could know how I am being treated! +But God knows all about it.... Also, Anna declared that it was solely +through my own fault that my fortunes declined after she had bettered +them; that she is in no way responsible for what then happened; and that +I have but myself to blame for having been either unable or unwilling to +defend my honour. Great God! WHO, then, has been at fault? According to +Anna, Hospodin [Mr.] Bwikov was only right when he declined to marry +a woman who--But need I say it? It is cruel to hear such lies as hers. +What is to become of me I do not know. I tremble and sob and weep. +Indeed, even to write this letter has cost me two hours. At least it +might have been thought that Anna would have confessed HER share in the +past. Yet see what she says!... For the love of God do not be anxious +about me, my friend, my only benefactor. Thedora is over apt to +exaggerate matters. I am not REALLY ill. I have merely caught a little +cold. I caught it last night while I was walking to Bolkovo, to hear +Mass sung for my mother. Ah, mother, my poor mother! Could you but rise +from the grave and learn what is being done to your daughter! + +B. D. + + + + +May 20th + +MY DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--I am sending you a few grapes, which are +good for a convalescent person, and strongly recommended by doctors for +the allayment of fever. Also, you were saying the other day that you +would like some roses; wherefore, I now send you a bunch. Are you at all +able to eat, my darling?--for that is the chief point which ought to +be seen to. Let us thank God that the past and all its unhappiness are +gone! Yes, let us give thanks to Heaven for that much! As for books, I +cannot get hold of any, except for a book which, written in excellent +style, is, I believe, to be had here. At all events, people keep +praising it very much, and I have begged the loan of it for myself. +Should you too like to read it? In this respect, indeed, I feel nervous, +for the reason that it is so difficult to divine what your taste in +books may be, despite my knowledge of your character. Probably you would +like poetry--the poetry of sentiment and of love making? Well, I will +send you a book of MY OWN poems. Already I have copied out part of the +manuscript. + +Everything with me is going well; so pray do not be anxious on my +account, beloved. What Thedora told you about me was sheer rubbish. Tell +her from me that she has not been speaking the truth. Yes, do not fail +to give this mischief-maker my message. It is not the case that I have +gone and sold a new uniform. Why should I do so, seeing that I have +forty roubles of salary still to come to me? Do not be uneasy, my +darling. Thedora is a vindictive woman--merely a vindictive woman. We +shall yet see better days. Only do you get well, my angel--only do you +get well, for the love of God, lest you grieve an old man. Also, who +told you that I was looking thin? Slanders again--nothing but slanders! +I am as healthy as could be, and have grown so fat that I am ashamed +to be so sleek of paunch. Would that you were equally healthy!... Now +goodbye, my angel. I kiss every one of your tiny fingers, and remain +ever your constant friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--But what is this, dearest one, that you have written to me? Why do +you place me upon such a pedestal? Moreover, how could I come and visit +you frequently? How, I repeat? Of course, I might avail myself of the +cover of night; but, alas! the season of the year is what it is, and +includes no night time to speak of. In fact, although, throughout your +illness and delirium, I scarcely left your side for a moment, I cannot +think how I contrived to do the many things that I did. Later, I ceased +to visit you at all, for the reason that people were beginning to notice +things, and to ask me questions. Yet, even so, a scandal has arisen. +Theresa I trust thoroughly, for she is not a talkative woman; but +consider how it will be when the truth comes out in its entirety! What +THEN will folk not say and think? Nevertheless, be of good cheer, my +beloved, and regain your health. When you have done so we will contrive +to arrange a rendezvous out of doors. + + + + +June 1st + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--So eager am I to do something that +will please and divert you in return for your care, for your ceaseless +efforts on my behalf--in short, for your love for me--that I have +decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving into my locker, and +extracting thence the manuscript which I send you herewith. I began it +during the happier period of my life, and have continued it at intervals +since. So often have you asked me about my former existence--about my +mother, about Pokrovski, about my sojourn with Anna Thedorovna, about my +more recent misfortunes; so often have you expressed an earnest desire +to read the manuscript in which (God knows why) I have recorded certain +incidents of my life, that I feel no doubt but that the sending of it +will give you sincere pleasure. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read +it, for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned +its concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am--how this +insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! + +B. D. + +ONE + +UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the +happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here in the +depths of the province of Tula, where my father filled the position of +steward on the vast estates of the Prince P----. Our house was situated in +one of the Prince's villages, and we lived a quiet, obscure, but happy, +life. A gay little child was I--my one idea being ceaselessly to run +about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a +thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and +my mother with her housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any +lessons--a circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I +would hie me to a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where +the sun could warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my +hands with bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get +blamed afterwards, but I did not care. + +Had it befallen me never to quit that village--had it befallen me to +remain for ever in that spot--I should always have been happy; but fate +ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before my girlhood had +come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years old when we removed +to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to recall the mournful gatherings +before our departure, and to recall how bitterly I wept when the time +came for us to say farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember +throwing myself upon my father's neck, and beseeching him with tears +to stay in the country a little longer; but he bid me be silent, and +my mother, adding her tears to mine, explained that business matters +compelled us to go. As a matter of fact, old Prince P---- had just died, +and his heirs had dismissed my father from his post; whereupon, since +he had a little money privately invested in St. Petersburg, he bethought +him that his personal presence in the capital was necessary for the +due management of his affairs. It was my mother who told me this. +Consequently we settled here in St. Petersburg, and did not again move +until my father died. + +How difficult I found it to grow accustomed to my new life! At the time +of our removal to St. Petersburg it was autumn--a season when, in the +country, the weather is clear and keen and bright, all agricultural +labour has come to an end, the great sheaves of corn are safely garnered +in the byre, and the birds are flying hither and thither in clamorous +flocks. Yes, at that season the country is joyous and fair, but here +in St. Petersburg, at the time when we reached the city, we encountered +nothing but rain, bitter autumn frosts, dull skies, ugliness, and crowds +of strangers who looked hostile, discontented, and disposed to take +offence. However, we managed to settle down--though I remember that +in our new home there was much noise and confusion as we set the +establishment in order. After this my father was seldom at home, and my +mother had few spare moments; wherefore, I found myself forgotten. + +The first morning after our arrival, when I awoke from sleep, how sad I +felt! I could see that our windows looked out upon a drab space of wall, +and that the street below was littered with filth. Passers-by were few, +and as they walked they kept muffling themselves up against the cold. + +Then there ensued days when dullness and depression reigned supreme. +Scarcely a relative or an acquaintance did we possess in St. Petersburg, +and even Anna Thedorovna and my father had come to loggerheads with one +another, owing to the fact that he owed her money. In fact, our only +visitors were business callers, and as a rule these came but to wrangle, +to argue, and to raise a disturbance. Such visits would make my father +look very discontented, and seem out of temper. For hours and hours he +would pace the room with a frown on his face and a brooding silence on +his lips. Even my mother did not dare address him at these times, +while, for my own part, I used to sit reading quietly and humbly in a +corner--not venturing to make a movement of any sort. + +Three months after our arrival in St. Petersburg I was sent to a +boarding-school. Here I found myself thrown among strange people; here +everything was grim and uninviting, with teachers continually shouting +at me, and my fellow-pupils for ever holding me up to derision, and +myself constantly feeling awkward and uncouth. How strict, how exacting +was the system! Appointed hours for everything, a common table, +ever-insistent teachers! These things simply worried and tortured me. +Never from the first could I sleep, but used to weep many a chill, weary +night away. In the evenings everyone would have to repeat or to learn +her lessons. As I crouched over a dialogue or a vocabulary, without +daring even to stir, how my thoughts would turn to the chimney-corner +at home, to my father, to my mother, to my old nurse, to the tales which +the latter had been used to tell! How sad it all was! The memory of the +merest trifle at home would please me, and I would think and think how +nice things used to be at home. Once more I would be sitting in our +little parlour at tea with my parents--in the familiar little parlour +where everything was snug and warm! How ardently, how convulsively I +would seem to be embracing my mother! Thus I would ponder, until at +length tears of sorrow would softly gush forth and choke my bosom, and +drive the lessons out of my head. For I never could master the tasks of +the morrow; no matter how much my mistress and fellow-pupils might gird +at me, no matter how much I might repeat my lessons over and over to +myself, knowledge never came with the morning. Consequently, I used to +be ordered the kneeling punishment, and given only one meal in the day. +How dull and dispirited I used to feel! From the first my fellow-pupils +used to tease and deride and mock me whenever I was saying my lessons. +Also, they used to pinch me as we were on our way to dinner or tea, and +to make groundless complaints of me to the head mistress. On the other +hand, how heavenly it seemed when, on Saturday evening, my old nurse +arrived to fetch me! How I would embrace the old woman in transports +of joy! After dressing me, and wrapping me up, she would find that +she could scarcely keep pace with me on the way home, so full was I of +chatter and tales about one thing and another. Then, when I had arrived +home merry and lighthearted, how fervently I would embrace my parents, +as though I had not seen them for ten years. Such a fussing would there +be--such a talking and a telling of tales! To everyone I would run with +a greeting, and laugh, and giggle, and scamper about, and skip for +very joy. True, my father and I used to have grave conversations about +lessons and teachers and the French language and grammar; yet we were +all very happy and contented together. Even now it thrills me to think +of those moments. For my father's sake I tried hard to learn my lessons, +for I could see that he was spending his last kopeck upon me, and +himself subsisting God knows how. Every day he grew more morose and +discontented and irritable; every day his character kept changing for +the worse. He had suffered an influx of debts, nor were his business +affairs prospering. As for my mother, she was afraid even to say a word, +or to weep aloud, for fear of still further angering him. Gradually +she sickened, grew thinner and thinner, and became taken with a painful +cough. Whenever I reached home from school I would find every one +low-spirited, and my mother shedding silent tears, and my father raging. +Bickering and high words would arise, during which my father was wont +to declare that, though he no longer derived the smallest pleasure or +relaxation from life, and had spent his last coin upon my education, I +had not yet mastered the French language. In short, everything began to +go wrong, to turn to unhappiness; and for that circumstance, my father +took vengeance upon myself and my mother. How he could treat my poor +mother so I cannot understand. It used to rend my heart to see her, so +hollow were her cheeks becoming, so sunken her eyes, so hectic her +face. But it was chiefly around myself that the disputes raged. Though +beginning only with some trifle, they would soon go on to God knows +what. Frequently, even I myself did not know to what they related. +Anything and everything would enter into them, for my father would say +that I was an utter dunce at the French language; that the head mistress +of my school was a stupid, common sort of women who cared nothing for +morals; that he (my father) had not yet succeeded in obtaining another +post; that Lamonde's "Grammar" was a wretched book--even a worse one +than Zapolski's; that a great deal of money had been squandered upon me; +that it was clear that I was wasting my time in repeating dialogues +and vocabularies; that I alone was at fault, and that I must answer for +everything. Yet this did not arise from any WANT OF LOVE for me on the +part of my father, but rather from the fact that he was incapable of +putting himself in my own and my mother's place. It came of a defect of +character. + +All these cares and worries and disappointments tortured my poor father +until he became moody and distrustful. Next he began to neglect his +health, with the result that, catching a chill, he died, after a short +illness, so suddenly and unexpectedly that for a few days we were almost +beside ourselves with the shock--my mother, in particular, lying for +a while in such a state of torpor that I had fears for her reason. The +instant my father was dead creditors seemed to spring up out of the +ground, and to assail us en masse. Everything that we possessed had to +be surrendered to them, including a little house which my father had +bought six months after our arrival in St. Petersburg. How matters +were finally settled I do not know, but we found ourselves roofless, +shelterless, and without a copper. My mother was grievously ill, and +of means of subsistence we had none. Before us there loomed only ruin, +sheer ruin. At the time I was fourteen years old. Soon afterwards Anna +Thedorovna came to see us, saying that she was a lady of property and +our relative; and this my mother confirmed--though, true, she added that +Anna was only a very DISTANT relative. Anna had never taken the least +notice of us during my father's lifetime, yet now she entered our +presence with tears in her eyes, and an assurance that she meant to +better our fortunes. Having condoled with us on our loss and destitute +position, she added that my father had been to blame for everything, in +that he had lived beyond his means, and taken upon himself more than he +was able to perform. Also, she expressed a wish to draw closer to us, +and to forget old scores; and when my mother explained that, for her own +part, she harboured no resentment against Anna, the latter burst into +tears, and, hurrying my mother away to church, then and there ordered +Mass to be said for the "dear departed," as she called my father. In +this manner she effected a solemn reconciliation with my mother. + +Next, after long negotiations and vacillations, coupled with much +vivid description of our destitute position, our desolation, and our +helplessness, Anna invited us to pay her (as she expressed it) a +"return visit." For this my mother duly thanked her, and considered the +invitation for a while; after which, seeing that there was nothing +else to be done, she informed Anna Thedorovna that she was prepared, +gratefully, to accept her offer. Ah, how I remember the morning when we +removed to Vassilievski Island! [A quarter of St. Petersburg.] It was a +clear, dry, frosty morning in autumn. My mother could not restrain +her tears, and I too felt depressed. Nay, my very heart seemed to be +breaking under a strange, undefined load of sorrow. How terrible it all +seemed!... + +II + +AT first--that is to say, until my mother and myself grew used to +our new abode--we found living at Anna Thedorovna's both strange and +disagreeable. The house was her own, and contained five rooms, three of +which she shared with my orphaned cousin, Sasha (whom she had brought up +from babyhood); a fourth was occupied by my mother and myself; and the +fifth was rented of Anna by a poor student named Pokrovski. Although +Anna lived in good style--in far better style than might have been +expected--her means and her avocation were conjectural. Never was she +at rest; never was she not busy with some mysterious something or other. +Also, she possessed a wide and varied circle of friends. The stream of +callers was perpetual--although God only knows who they were, or what +their business was. No sooner did my mother hear the door-bell ring than +off she would carry me to our own apartment. This greatly displeased +Anna, who used again and again to assure my mother that we were too +proud for our station in life. In fact, she would sulk for hours about +it. At the time I could not understand these reproaches, and it was +not until long afterwards that I learned--or rather, I guessed--why +eventually my mother declared that she could not go on living with Anna. +Yes, Anna was a bad woman. Never did she let us alone. As to the exact +motive why she had asked us to come and share her house with her I am +still in the dark. At first she was not altogether unkind to us but, +later, she revealed to us her real character--as soon, that is to say, +as she saw that we were at her mercy, and had nowhere else to go. +Yes, in early days she was quite kind to me--even offensively so, but +afterwards, I had to suffer as much as my mother. Constantly did Anna +reproach us; constantly did she remind us of her benefactions, and +introduce us to her friends as poor relatives of hers whom, out of +goodness of heart and for the love of Christ, she had received into her +bosom. At table, also, she would watch every mouthful that we took; +and, if our appetite failed, immediately she would begin as before, and +reiterate that we were over-dainty, that we must not assume that riches +would mean happiness, and that we had better go and live by ourselves. +Moreover, she never ceased to inveigh against my father--saying that +he had sought to be better than other people, and thereby had brought +himself to a bad end; that he had left his wife and daughter destitute; +and that, but for the fact that we had happened to meet with a kind and +sympathetic Christian soul, God alone knew where we should have laid our +heads, save in the street. What did that woman not say? To hear her was +not so much galling as disgusting. From time to time my mother would +burst into tears, her health grew worse from day to day, and her body +was becoming sheer skin and bone. All the while, too, we had to work--to +work from morning till night, for we had contrived to obtain some +employment as occasional sempstresses. This, however, did not please +Anna, who used to tell us that there was no room in her house for a +modiste's establishment. Yet we had to get clothes to wear, to provide +for unforeseen expenses, and to have a little money at our disposal in +case we should some day wish to remove elsewhere. Unfortunately, the +strain undermined my mother's health, and she became gradually weaker. +Sickness, like a cankerworm, was gnawing at her life, and dragging her +towards the tomb. Well could I see what she was enduring, what she was +suffering. Yes, it all lay open to my eyes. + +Day succeeded day, and each day was like the last one. We lived a life +as quiet as though we had been in the country. Anna herself grew quieter +in proportion as she came to realise the extent of her power over us. +In nothing did we dare to thwart her. From her portion of the house +our apartment was divided by a corridor, while next to us (as mentioned +above) dwelt a certain Pokrovski, who was engaged in teaching Sasha the +French and German languages, as well as history and geography--"all the +sciences," as Anna used to say. In return for these services he received +free board and lodging. As for Sasha, she was a clever, but rude and +uncouth, girl of thirteen. On one occasion Anna remarked to my mother +that it might be as well if I also were to take some lessons, seeing +that my education had been neglected at school; and, my mother joyfully +assenting, I joined Sasha for a year in studying under this Pokrovski. + +The latter was a poor--a very poor--young man whose health would not +permit of his undertaking the regular university course. Indeed, it was +only for form's sake that we called him "The Student." He lived in such +a quiet, humble, retiring fashion that never a sound reached us from his +room. Also, his exterior was peculiar--he moved and walked awkwardly, +and uttered his words in such a strange manner that at first I could +never look at him without laughing. Sasha was for ever playing tricks +upon him--more especially when he was giving us our lessons. But +unfortunately, he was of a temperament as excitable as herself. Indeed, +he was so irritable that the least trifle would send him into a frenzy, +and set him shouting at us, and complaining of our conduct. Sometimes he +would even rush away to his room before school hours were over, and sit +there for days over his books, of which he had a store that was +both rare and valuable. In addition, he acted as teacher at another +establishment, and received payment for his services there; and, +whenever he had received his fees for this extra work, he would hasten +off and purchase more books. + +In time I got to know and like him better, for in reality he was a good, +worthy fellow--more so than any of the people with whom we otherwise +came in contact. My mother in particular had a great respect for him, +and, after herself, he was my best friend. But at first I was just an +overgrown hoyden, and joined Sasha in playing the fool. For hours we +would devise tricks to anger and distract him, for he looked extremely +ridiculous when he was angry, and so diverted us the more (ashamed +though I am now to admit it). But once, when we had driven him nearly +to tears, I heard him say to himself under his breath, "What cruel +children!" and instantly I repented--I began to feel sad and ashamed and +sorry for him. I reddened to my ears, and begged him, almost with tears, +not to mind us, nor to take offence at our stupid jests. Nevertheless, +without finishing the lesson, he closed his book, and departed to his +own room. All that day I felt torn with remorse. To think that we two +children had forced him, the poor, the unhappy one, to remember his hard +lot! And at night I could not sleep for grief and regret. Remorse is +said to bring relief to the soul, but it is not so. How far my grief was +internally connected with my conceit I do not know, but at least I did +not wish him to think me a baby, seeing that I had now reached the age +of fifteen years. Therefore, from that day onwards I began to torture +my imagination with devising a thousand schemes which should compel +Pokrovski to alter his opinion of me. At the same time, being yet shy +and reserved by nature, I ended by finding that, in my present position, +I could make up my mind to nothing but vague dreams (and such dreams +I had). However, I ceased to join Sasha in playing the fool, while +Pokrovski, for his part, ceased to lose his temper with us so much. +Unfortunately this was not enough to satisfy my self-esteem. + +At this point, I must say a few words about the strangest, the most +interesting, the most pitiable human being that I have ever come across. +I speak of him now--at this particular point in these memoirs--for the +reason that hitherto I had paid him no attention whatever, and began to +do so now only because everything connected with Pokrovski had suddenly +become of absorbing interest in my eyes. + +Sometimes there came to the house a ragged, poorly-dressed, grey-headed, +awkward, amorphous--in short, a very strange-looking--little old man. At +first glance it might have been thought that he was perpetually ashamed +of something--that he had on his conscience something which always made +him, as it were, bristle up and then shrink into himself. Such curious +starts and grimaces did he indulge in that one was forced to conclude +that he was scarcely in his right mind. On arriving, he would halt for +a while by the window in the hall, as though afraid to enter; until, +should any one happen to pass in or out of the door--whether Sasha or +myself or one of the servants (to the latter he always resorted the most +readily, as being the most nearly akin to his own class)--he would begin +to gesticulate and to beckon to that person, and to make various signs. +Then, should the person in question nod to him, or call him by name (the +recognised token that no other visitor was present, and that he +might enter freely), he would open the door gently, give a smile of +satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together, and proceed on tiptoe to +young Pokrovski's room. This old fellow was none other than Pokrovski's +father. + +Later I came to know his story in detail. Formerly a civil servant, he +had possessed no additional means, and so had occupied a very low +and insignificant position in the service. Then, after his first wife +(mother of the younger Pokrovski) had died, the widower bethought him of +marrying a second time, and took to himself a tradesman's daughter, who +soon assumed the reins over everything, and brought the home to rack and +ruin, so that the old man was worse off than before. But to the younger +Pokrovski, fate proved kinder, for a landowner named Bwikov, who had +formerly known the lad's father and been his benefactor, took the boy +under his protection, and sent him to school. Another reason why this +Bwikov took an interest in young Pokrovski was that he had known the +lad's dead mother, who, while still a serving-maid, had been befriended +by Anna Thedorovna, and subsequently married to the elder Pokrovski. At +the wedding Bwikov, actuated by his friendship for Anna, conferred upon +the young bride a dowry of five thousand roubles; but whither that money +had since disappeared I cannot say. It was from Anna's lips that I heard +the story, for the student Pokrovski was never prone to talk about his +family affairs. His mother was said to have been very good-looking; +wherefore, it is the more mysterious why she should have made so poor a +match. She died when young--only four years after her espousal. + +From school the young Pokrovski advanced to a gymnasium, [Secondary +school.] and thence to the University, where Bwikov, who frequently +visited the capital, continued to accord the youth his protection. +Gradually, however, ill health put an end to the young man's university +course; whereupon Bwikov introduced and personally recommended him to +Anna Thedorovna, and he came to lodge with her on condition that he +taught Sasha whatever might be required of him. + +Grief at the harshness of his wife led the elder Pokrovski to plunge +into dissipation, and to remain in an almost permanent condition of +drunkenness. Constantly his wife beat him, or sent him to sit in the +kitchen--with the result that in time, he became so inured to blows +and neglect, that he ceased to complain. Still not greatly advanced +in years, he had nevertheless endangered his reason through evil +courses--his only sign of decent human feeling being his love for his +son. The latter was said to resemble his dead mother as one pea may +resemble another. What recollections, therefore, of the kind helpmeet of +former days may not have moved the breast of the poor broken old man to +this boundless affection for the boy? Of naught else could the father +ever speak but of his son, and never did he fail to visit him twice a +week. To come oftener he did not dare, for the reason that the younger +Pokrovski did not like these visits of his father's. In fact, there +can be no doubt that the youth's greatest fault was his lack of filial +respect. Yet the father was certainly rather a difficult person to deal +with, for, in the first place, he was extremely inquisitive, while, in +the second place, his long-winded conversation and questions--questions +of the most vapid and senseless order conceivable--always prevented +the son from working. Likewise, the old man occasionally arrived there +drunk. Gradually, however, the son was weaning his parent from his +vicious ways and everlasting inquisitiveness, and teaching the old man +to look upon him, his son, as an oracle, and never to speak without that +son's permission. + +On the subject of his Petinka, as he called him, the poor old man could +never sufficiently rhapsodise and dilate. Yet when he arrived to see his +son he almost invariably had on his face a downcast, timid expression +that was probably due to uncertainty concerning the way in which he +would be received. For a long time he would hesitate to enter, and if I +happened to be there he would question me for twenty minutes or so as to +whether his Petinka was in good health, as well as to the sort of +mood he was in, whether he was engaged on matters of importance, what +precisely he was doing (writing or meditating), and so on. Then, when I +had sufficiently encouraged and reassured the old man, he would make up +his mind to enter, and quietly and cautiously open the door. Next, he +would protrude his head through the chink, and if he saw that his son +was not angry, but threw him a nod, he would glide noiselessly into the +room, take off his scarf, and hang up his hat (the latter perennially +in a bad state of repair, full of holes, and with a smashed brim)--the +whole being done without a word or a sound of any kind. Next, the old +man would seat himself warily on a chair, and, never removing his eyes +from his son, follow his every movement, as though seeking to gauge +Petinka's state of mind. On the other hand, if the son was not in good +spirits, the father would make a note of the fact, and at once get up, +saying that he had "only called for a minute or two," that, "having been +out for a long walk, and happening at the moment to be passing," he had +"looked in for a moment's rest." Then silently and humbly the old man +would resume his hat and scarf; softly he would open the door, and +noiselessly depart with a forced smile on his face--the better to bear +the disappointment which was seething in his breast, the better to help +him not to show it to his son. + +On the other hand, whenever the son received his father civilly the old +man would be struck dumb with joy. Satisfaction would beam in his face, +in his every gesture, in his every movement. And if the son deigned to +engage in conversation with him, the old man always rose a little from +his chair, and answered softly, sympathetically, with something like +reverence, while strenuously endeavouring to make use of the most +recherche (that is to say, the most ridiculous) expressions. But, alas! +He had not the gift of words. Always he grew confused, and turned red in +the face; never did he know what to do with his hands or with himself. +Likewise, whenever he had returned an answer of any kind, he would go +on repeating the same in a whisper, as though he were seeking to justify +what he had just said. And if he happened to have returned a good +answer, he would begin to preen himself, and to straighten his +waistcoat, frockcoat and tie, and to assume an air of conscious dignity. +Indeed, on these occasions he would feel so encouraged, he would carry +his daring to such a pitch, that, rising softly from his chair, he would +approach the bookshelves, take thence a book, and read over to himself +some passage or another. All this he would do with an air of feigned +indifference and sangfroid, as though he were free ALWAYS to use his +son's books, and his son's kindness were no rarity at all. Yet on one +occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale on being told by +his son not to touch the books. Abashed and confused, he, in his awkward +hurry, replaced the volume wrong side uppermost; whereupon, with a +supreme effort to recover himself, he turned it round with a smile and +a blush, as though he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. +Gradually, as already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father +from his dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three +successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes, also, +the younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or a waistcoat; +whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his acquisition as a +peacock. Not infrequently, also, the old man would step in to visit +ourselves, and bring Sasha and myself gingerbread birds or apples, +while talking unceasingly of Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay +attention to our lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an +exemplary son, a son who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after +which he would wink at us so quizzingly with his left eye, and twist +himself about in such amusing fashion, that we were forced to burst out +laughing. My mother had a great liking for him, but he detested Anna +Thedorovna--although in her presence he would be quieter than water and +lowlier than the earth. + +Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now he +thought me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha; and this +hurt me extremely, seeing that I had done so much to expiate my former +behaviour. Of my efforts in this direction no notice had been taken, +and the fact continued to anger me more and more. Scarcely ever did I +address a word to my tutor between school hours, for I simply could +not bring myself to do it. If I made the attempt I only grew red and +confused, and rushed away to weep in a corner. How it would all have +ended I do not know, had not a curious incident helped to bring about +a rapprochement. One evening, when my mother was sitting in Anna +Thedorovna's room, I crept on tiptoe to Pokrovski's apartment, in the +belief that he was not at home. Some strange impulse moved me to do so. +True, we had lived cheek by jowl with one another; yet never once had +I caught a glimpse of his abode. Consequently my heart beat loudly--so +loudly, indeed, that it seemed almost to be bursting from my breast. On +entering the room I glanced around me with tense interest. The apartment +was very poorly furnished, and bore few traces of orderliness. On table +and chairs there lay heaps of books; everywhere were books and papers. +Then a strange thought entered my head, as well as, with the thought, an +unpleasant feeling of irritation. It seemed to me that my friendship, +my heart's affection, meant little to him, for HE was well-educated, +whereas I was stupid, and had learned nothing, and had read not a single +book. So I stood looking wistfully at the long bookshelves where +they groaned under their weight of volumes. I felt filled with grief, +disappointment, and a sort of frenzy. I felt that I MUST read those +books, and decided to do so--to read them one by one, and with all +possible speed. Probably the idea was that, by learning whatsoever HE +knew, I should render myself more worthy of his friendship. So, I made +a rush towards the bookcase nearest me, and, without stopping further +to consider matters, seized hold of the first dusty tome upon which my +hands chanced to alight, and, reddening and growing pale by turns, and +trembling with fear and excitement, clasped the stolen book to my breast +with the intention of reading it by candle light while my mother lay +asleep at night. + +But how vexed I felt when, on returning to our own room, and hastily +turning the pages, only an old, battered worm-eaten Latin work greeted +my eyes! Without loss of time I retraced my steps. Just when I was about +to replace the book I heard a noise in the corridor outside, and the +sound of footsteps approaching. Fumblingly I hastened to complete what +I was about, but the tiresome book had become so tightly wedged into +its row that, on being pulled out, it caused its fellows to close up too +compactly to leave any place for their comrade. To insert the book was +beyond my strength; yet still I kept pushing and pushing at the row. At +last the rusty nail which supported the shelf (the thing seemed to have +been waiting on purpose for that moment!) broke off short; with the +result that the shelf descended with a crash, and the books piled +themselves in a heap on the floor! Then the door of the room opened, and +Pokrovski entered! + +I must here remark that he never could bear to have his possessions +tampered with. Woe to the person, in particular, who touched his books! +Judge, therefore, of my horror when books small and great, books of +every possible shape and size and thickness, came tumbling from the +shelf, and flew and sprang over the table, and under the chairs, and +about the whole room. I would have turned and fled, but it was too late. +"All is over!" thought I. "All is over! I am ruined, I am undone! Here +have I been playing the fool like a ten-year-old child! What a stupid +girl I am! The monstrous fool!" + +Indeed, Pokrovski was very angry. "What? Have you not done enough?" he +cried. "Are you not ashamed to be for ever indulging in such pranks? Are +you NEVER going to grow sensible?" With that he darted forward to pick +up the books, while I bent down to help him. + +"You need not, you need not!" he went on. "You would have done far +better not to have entered without an invitation." + +Next, a little mollified by my humble demeanour, he resumed in his usual +tutorial tone--the tone which he had adopted in his new-found role of +preceptor: + +"When are you going to grow steadier and more thoughtful? Consider +yourself for a moment. You are no longer a child, a little girl, but a +maiden of fifteen." + +Then, with a desire (probably) to satisfy himself that I was no longer a +being of tender years, he threw me a glance--but straightway reddened to +his very ears. This I could not understand, but stood gazing at him in +astonishment. Presently, he straightened himself a little, approached +me with a sort of confused expression, and haltingly said +something--probably it was an apology for not having before perceived +that I was now a grown-up young person. But the next moment I +understood. What I did I hardly know, save that, in my dismay and +confusion, I blushed even more hotly than he had done and, covering my +face with my hands, rushed from the room. + +What to do with myself for shame I could not think. The one thought in +my head was that he had surprised me in his room. For three whole days +I found myself unable to raise my eyes to his, but blushed always to +the point of weeping. The strangest and most confused of thoughts kept +entering my brain. One of them--the most extravagant--was that I should +dearly like to go to Pokrovski, and to explain to him the situation, and +to make full confession, and to tell him everything without concealment, +and to assure him that I had not acted foolishly as a minx, but honestly +and of set purpose. In fact, I DID make up my mind to take this course, +but lacked the necessary courage to do it. If I had done so, what a +figure I should have cut! Even now I am ashamed to think of it. + +A few days later, my mother suddenly fell dangerously ill. For two +days past she had not left her bed, while during the third night of her +illness she became seized with fever and delirium. I also had not closed +my eyes during the previous night, but now waited upon my mother, sat by +her bed, brought her drink at intervals, and gave her medicine at duly +appointed hours. The next night I suffered terribly. Every now and then +sleep would cause me to nod, and objects grow dim before my eyes. Also, +my head was turning dizzy, and I could have fainted for very weariness. +Yet always my mother's feeble moans recalled me to myself as I started, +momentarily awoke, and then again felt drowsiness overcoming me. What +torture it was! I do not know, I cannot clearly remember, but I think +that, during a moment when wakefulness was thus contending with slumber, +a strange dream, a horrible vision, visited my overwrought brain, and +I awoke in terror. The room was nearly in darkness, for the candle was +flickering, and throwing stray beams of light which suddenly illuminated +the room, danced for a moment on the walls, and then disappeared. +Somehow I felt afraid--a sort of horror had come upon me--my imagination +had been over-excited by the evil dream which I had experienced, and a +feeling of oppression was crushing my heart.... I leapt from the chair, +and involuntarily uttered a cry--a cry wrung from me by the terrible, +torturing sensation that was upon me. Presently the door opened, and +Pokrovski entered. + +I remember that I was in his arms when I recovered my senses. Carefully +seating me on a bench, he handed me a glass of water, and then asked me +a few questions--though how I answered them I do not know. "You yourself +are ill," he said as he took my hand. "You yourself are VERY ill. You +are feverish, and I can see that you are knocking yourself out through +your neglect of your own health. Take a little rest. Lie down and go to +sleep. Yes, lie down, lie down," he continued without giving me time to +protest. Indeed, fatigue had so exhausted my strength that my eyes +were closing from very weakness. So I lay down on the bench with the +intention of sleeping for half an hour only; but, I slept till morning. +Pokrovski then awoke me, saying that it was time for me to go and give +my mother her medicine. + +When the next evening, about eight o'clock, I had rested a little and +was preparing to spend the night in a chair beside my mother (fixedly +meaning not to go to sleep this time), Pokrovski suddenly knocked at +the door. I opened it, and he informed me that, since, possibly, I +might find the time wearisome, he had brought me a few books to read. I +accepted the books, but do not, even now, know what books they were, nor +whether I looked into them, despite the fact that I never closed my eyes +the whole night long. The truth was that a strange feeling of excitement +was preventing me from sleeping, and I could not rest long in any one +spot, but had to keep rising from my chair, and walking about the +room. Throughout my whole being there seemed to be diffused a kind of +elation--of elation at Pokrovski's attentions, at the thought that he +was anxious and uneasy about me. Until dawn I pondered and dreamed; and +though I felt sure Pokrovski would not again visit us that night, I gave +myself up to fancies concerning what he might do the following evening. + +That evening, when everyone else in the house had retired to rest, +Pokrovski opened his door, and opened a conversation from the threshold +of his room. Although, at this distance of time, I cannot remember a +word of what we said to one another, I remember that I blushed, grew +confused, felt vexed with myself, and awaited with impatience the end of +the conversation although I myself had been longing for the meeting +to take place, and had spent the day in dreaming of it, and devising +a string of suitable questions and replies. Yes, that evening saw the +first strand in our friendship knitted; and each subsequent night of +my mother's illness we spent several hours together. Little by little I +overcame his reserve, but found that each of these conversations left me +filled with a sense of vexation at myself. At the same time, I could see +with secret joy and a sense of proud elation that I was leading him to +forget his tiresome books. At last the conversation turned jestingly +upon the upsetting of the shelf. The moment was a peculiar one, for it +came upon me just when I was in the right mood for self-revelation and +candour. In my ardour, my curious phase of exaltation, I found myself +led to make a full confession of the fact that I had become wishful to +learn, to KNOW, something, since I had felt hurt at being taken for a +chit, a mere baby.... I repeat that that night I was in a very strange +frame of mind. My heart was inclined to be tender, and there were +tears standing in my eyes. Nothing did I conceal as I told him about +my friendship for him, about my desire to love him, about my scheme +for living in sympathy with him and comforting him, and making his +life easier. In return he threw me a look of confusion mingled with +astonishment, and said nothing. Then suddenly I began to feel terribly +pained and disappointed, for I conceived that he had failed to +understand me, or even that he might be laughing at me. Bursting into +tears like a child, I sobbed, and could not stop myself, for I had +fallen into a kind of fit; whereupon he seized my hand, kissed it, and +clasped it to his breast--saying various things, meanwhile, to comfort +me, for he was labouring under a strong emotion. Exactly what he said +I do not remember--I merely wept and laughed by turns, and blushed, and +found myself unable to speak a word for joy. Yet, for all my agitation, +I noticed that about him there still lingered an air of constraint +and uneasiness. Evidently, he was lost in wonder at my enthusiasm and +raptures--at my curiously ardent, unexpected, consuming friendship. It +may be that at first he was amazed, but that afterwards he accepted my +devotion and words of invitation and expressions of interest with the +same simple frankness as I had offered them, and responded to them +with an interest, a friendliness, a devotion equal to my own, even as a +friend or a brother would do. How happy, how warm was the feeling in my +heart! Nothing had I concealed or repressed. No, I had bared all to his +sight, and each day would see him draw nearer to me. + +Truly I could not say what we did not talk about during those painful, +yet rapturous, hours when, by the trembling light of a lamp, and almost +at the very bedside of my poor sick mother, we kept midnight tryst. +Whatsoever first came into our heads we spoke of--whatsoever came riven +from our hearts, whatsoever seemed to call for utterance, found voice. +And almost always we were happy. What a grievous, yet joyous, period it +was--a period grievous and joyous at the same time! To this day it both +hurts and delights me to recall it. Joyous or bitter though it was, its +memories are yet painful. At least they seem so to me, though a certain +sweetness assuaged the pain. So, whenever I am feeling heartsick and +oppressed and jaded and sad those memories return to freshen and revive +me, even as drops of evening dew return to freshen and revive, after a +sultry day, the poor faded flower which has long been drooping in the +noontide heat. + +My mother grew better, but still I continued to spend the nights on +a chair by her bedside. Often, too, Pokrovski would give me books. At +first I read them merely so as to avoid going to sleep, but afterwards I +examined them with more attention, and subsequently with actual avidity, +for they opened up to me a new, an unexpected, an unknown, an unfamiliar +world. New thoughts, added to new impressions, would come pouring +into my heart in a rich flood; and the more emotion, the more pain and +labour, it cost me to assimilate these new impressions, the dearer did +they become to me, and the more gratefully did they stir my soul to +its very depths. Crowding into my heart without giving it time even to +breathe, they would cause my whole being to become lost in a wondrous +chaos. Yet this spiritual ferment was not sufficiently strong wholly to +undo me. For that I was too fanciful, and the fact saved me. + +With the passing of my mother's illness the midnight meetings and +long conversations between myself and Pokrovski came to an end. Only +occasionally did we exchange a few words with one another--words, for +the most part, that were of little purport or substance, yet words +to which it delighted me to apportion their several meanings, their +peculiar secret values. My life had now become full--I was happy; I was +quietly, restfully happy. Thus did several weeks elapse.... + +One day the elder Pokrovski came to see us, and chattered in a +brisk, cheerful, garrulous sort of way. He laughed, launched out into +witticisms, and, finally, resolved the riddle of his transports by +informing us that in a week's time it would be his Petinka's birthday, +when, in honour of the occasion, he (the father) meant to don a new +jacket (as well as new shoes which his wife was going to buy for him), +and to come and pay a visit to his son. In short, the old man was +perfectly happy, and gossiped about whatsoever first entered his head. + +My lover's birthday! Thenceforward, I could not rest by night or day. +Whatever might happen, it was my fixed intention to remind Pokrovski +of our friendship by giving him a present. But what sort of present? +Finally, I decided to give him books. I knew that he had long wanted to +possess a complete set of Pushkin's works, in the latest edition; so, +I decided to buy Pushkin. My private fund consisted of thirty roubles, +earned by handiwork, and designed eventually to procure me a new dress, +but at once I dispatched our cook, old Matrena, to ascertain the price +of such an edition. Horrors! The price of the eleven volumes, added to +extra outlay upon the binding, would amount to at least SIXTY roubles! +Where was the money to come from? I thought and thought, yet could not +decide. I did not like to resort to my mother. Of course she would help +me, but in that case every one in the house would become aware of my +gift, and the gift itself would assume the guise of a recompense--of +payment for Pokrovski's labours on my behalf during the past year; +whereas, I wished to present the gift ALONE, and without the knowledge +of anyone. For the trouble that he had taken with me I wished to be his +perpetual debtor--to make him no payment at all save my friendship. At +length, I thought of a way out of the difficulty. + +I knew that of the hucksters in the Gostinni Dvor one could sometimes +buy a book--even one that had been little used and was almost entirely +new--for a half of its price, provided that one haggled sufficiently +over it; wherefore I determined to repair thither. It so happened that, +next day, both Anna Thedorovna and ourselves were in want of sundry +articles; and since my mother was unwell and Anna lazy, the execution of +the commissions devolved upon me, and I set forth with Matrena. + +Luckily, I soon chanced upon a set of Pushkin, handsomely bound, and +set myself to bargain for it. At first more was demanded than would have +been asked of me in a shop; but afterwards--though not without a great +deal of trouble on my part, and several feints at departing--I induced +the dealer to lower his price, and to limit his demands to ten roubles +in silver. How I rejoiced that I had engaged in this bargaining! Poor +Matrena could not imagine what had come to me, nor why I so desired to +buy books. But, oh horror of horrors! As soon as ever the dealer caught +sight of my capital of thirty roubles in notes, he refused to let the +Pushkin go for less than the sum he had first named; and though, in +answer to my prayers and protestations, he eventually yielded a little, +he did so only to the tune of two-and-a-half roubles more than I +possessed, while swearing that he was making the concession for my sake +alone, since I was "a sweet young lady," and that he would have done so +for no one else in the world. To think that only two-and-a-half roubles +should still be wanting! I could have wept with vexation. Suddenly an +unlooked-for circumstance occurred to help me in my distress. + +Not far away, near another table that was heaped with books, I perceived +the elder Pokrovski, and a crowd of four or five hucksters plaguing him +nearly out of his senses. Each of these fellows was proffering the old +man his own particular wares; and while there was nothing that they did +not submit for his approval, there was nothing that he wished to buy. +The poor old fellow had the air of a man who is receiving a thrashing. +What to make of what he was being offered him he did not know. +Approaching him, I inquired what he happened to be doing there; whereat +the old man was delighted, since he liked me (it may be) no less than he +did Petinka. + +"I am buying some books, Barbara Alexievna," said he, "I am buying them +for my Petinka. It will be his birthday soon, and since he likes books I +thought I would get him some." + +The old man always expressed himself in a very roundabout sort of +fashion, and on the present occasion he was doubly, terribly confused. +Of no matter what book he asked the price, it was sure to be one, two, +or three roubles. The larger books he could not afford at all; he could +only look at them wistfully, fumble their leaves with his finger, turn +over the volumes in his hands, and then replace them. "No, no, that +is too dear," he would mutter under his breath. "I must go and try +somewhere else." Then again he would fall to examining copy-books, +collections of poems, and almanacs of the cheaper order. + +"Why should you buy things like those?" I asked him. "They are such +rubbish!" + +"No, no!" he replied. "See what nice books they are! Yes, they ARE nice +books!" Yet these last words he uttered so lingeringly that I could see +he was ready to weep with vexation at finding the better sorts of books +so expensive. Already a little tear was trickling down his pale cheeks +and red nose. I inquired whether he had much money on him; whereupon the +poor old fellow pulled out his entire stock, wrapped in a piece of +dirty newspaper, and consisting of a few small silver coins, with twenty +kopecks in copper. At once I seized the lot, and, dragging him off to my +huckster, said: "Look here. These eleven volumes of Pushkin are priced +at thirty-two-and-a-half roubles, and I have only thirty roubles. Let +us add to them these two-and-a-half roubles of yours, and buy the books +together, and make them our joint gift." The old man was overjoyed, and +pulled out his money en masse; whereupon the huckster loaded him with +our common library. Stuffing it into his pockets, as well as filling +both arms with it, he departed homewards with his prize, after giving me +his word to bring me the books privately on the morrow. + +Next day the old man came to see his son, and sat with him, as usual, +for about an hour; after which he visited ourselves, wearing on his face +the most comical, the most mysterious expression conceivable. Smiling +broadly with satisfaction at the thought that he was the possessor of a +secret, he informed me that he had stealthily brought the books to our +rooms, and hidden them in a corner of the kitchen, under Matrena's care. +Next, by a natural transition, the conversation passed to the coming +fete-day; whereupon, the old man proceeded to hold forth extensively +on the subject of gifts. The further he delved into his thesis, and the +more he expounded it, the clearer could I see that on his mind there was +something which he could not, dared not, divulge. So I waited and kept +silent. The mysterious exaltation, the repressed satisfaction which I +had hitherto discerned in his antics and grimaces and left-eyed winks +gradually disappeared, and he began to grow momentarily more anxious and +uneasy. At length he could contain himself no longer. + +"Listen, Barbara Alexievna," he said timidly. "Listen to what I have got +to say to you. When his birthday is come, do you take TEN of the books, +and give them to him yourself--that is, FOR yourself, as being YOUR +share of the gift. Then I will take the eleventh book, and give it to +him MYSELF, as being my gift. If we do that, you will have a present for +him and I shall have one--both of us alike." + +"Why do you not want us to present our gifts together, Zachar +Petrovitch?" I asked him. + +"Oh, very well," he replied. "Very well, Barbara Alexievna. Only--only, +I thought that--" + +The old man broke off in confusion, while his face flushed with the +exertion of thus expressing himself. For a moment or two he sat glued to +his seat. + +"You see," he went on, "I play the fool too much. I am forever playing +the fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it is wrong to do +so. At home it is often cold, and sometimes there are other troubles +as well, and it all makes me depressed. Well, whenever that happens, I +indulge a little, and occasionally drink too much. Now, Petinka does not +like that; he loses his temper about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds +me, and reads me lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am +mending my ways, and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time +past, I have been saving up to buy him a book--yes, for a long time past +I have been saving up for it, since it is seldom that I have any +money, unless Petinka happens to give me some. He knows that, and, +consequently, as soon as ever he perceives the use to which I have put +his money, he will understand that it is for his sake alone that I have +acted." + +My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with such +anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. + +"I tell you what," I said. "Do you give him all the books." + +"ALL?" he ejaculated. "ALL the books?" + +"Yes, all of them." + +"As my own gift?" "Yes, as your own gift." + +"As my gift alone?" + +"Yes, as your gift alone." + +Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to +understand me. + +"Well," said he after reflection, "that certainly would be +splendid--certainly it would be most splendid. But what about yourself, +Barbara Alexievna?" + +"Oh, I shall give your son nothing." + +"What?" he cried in dismay. "Are you going to give Petinka nothing--do +you WISH to give him nothing?" So put about was the old fellow with what +I had said, that he seemed almost ready to renounce his own proposal +if only I would give his son something. What a kind heart he had! I +hastened to assure him that I should certainly have a gift of some sort +ready, since my one wish was to avoid spoiling his pleasure. + +"Provided that your son is pleased," I added, "and that you are pleased, +I shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I shall feel as +though I had presented the gift." + +This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another couple of +hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept jumping up from +his seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, bestowing stealthy kisses +upon myself, pinching my hands, and making silent grimaces at Anna +Thedorovna. At length, she turned him out of the house. In short, his +transports of joy exceeded anything that I had yet beheld. + +On the festal day he arrived exactly at eleven o'clock, direct from +Mass. He was dressed in a carefully mended frockcoat, a new waistcoat, +and a pair of new shoes, while in his arms he carried our pile of +books. Next we all sat down to coffee (the day being Sunday) in Anna +Thedorovna's parlour. The old man led off the meal by saying +that Pushkin was a magnificent poet. Thereafter, with a return to +shamefacedness and confusion, he passed suddenly to the statement that +a man ought to conduct himself properly; that, should he not do so, it +might be taken as a sign that he was in some way overindulging himself; +and that evil tendencies of this sort led to the man's ruin and +degradation. Then the orator sketched for our benefit some terrible +instances of such incontinence, and concluded by informing us that for +some time past he had been mending his own ways, and conducting himself +in exemplary fashion, for the reason that he had perceived the justice +of his son's precepts, and had laid them to heart so well that he, the +father, had really changed for the better: in proof whereof, he now +begged to present to the said son some books for which he had long been +setting aside his savings. + +As I listened to the old man I could not help laughing and crying in +a breath. Certainly he knew how to lie when the occasion required! The +books were transferred to his son's room, and arranged upon a shelf, +where Pokrovski at once guessed the truth about them. Then the old man +was invited to dinner and we all spent a merry day together at cards and +forfeits. Sasha was full of life, and I rivalled her, while Pokrovski +paid me numerous attentions, and kept seeking an occasion to speak to me +alone. But to allow this to happen I refused. Yes, taken all in all, it +was the happiest day that I had known for four years. + +But now only grievous, painful memories come to my recollection, for I +must enter upon the story of my darker experiences. It may be that that +is why my pen begins to move more slowly, and seems as though it were +going altogether to refuse to write. The same reason may account for my +having undertaken so lovingly and enthusiastically a recounting of even +the smallest details of my younger, happier days. But alas! those days +did not last long, and were succeeded by a period of black sorrow which +will close only God knows when! + +My misfortunes began with the illness and death of Pokrovski, who was +taken worse two months after what I have last recorded in these memoirs. +During those two months he worked hard to procure himself a livelihood +since hitherto he had had no assured position. Like all consumptives, he +never--not even up to his last moment--altogether abandoned the hope of +being able to enjoy a long life. A post as tutor fell in his way, but he +had never liked the profession; while for him to become a civil servant +was out of the question, owing to his weak state of health. Moreover, in +the latter capacity he would have had to have waited a long time for his +first instalment of salary. Again, he always looked at the darker side +of things, for his character was gradually being warped, and his health +undermined by his illness, though he never noticed it. Then autumn came +on, and daily he went out to business--that is to say, to apply for and +to canvass for posts--clad only in a light jacket; with the result that, +after repeated soakings with rain, he had to take to his bed, and +never again left it. He died in mid-autumn at the close of the month of +October. + +Throughout his illness I scarcely ever left his room, but waited on him +hand and foot. Often he could not sleep for several nights at a time. +Often, too, he was unconscious, or else in a delirium; and at such times +he would talk of all sorts of things--of his work, of his books, of his +father, of myself. At such times I learned much which I had not hitherto +known or divined about his affairs. During the early part of his illness +everyone in the house looked askance at me, and Anna Thedorovna would +nod her head in a meaning manner; but, I always looked them straight in +the face, and gradually they ceased to take any notice of my concern for +Pokrovski. At all events my mother ceased to trouble her head about it. + +Sometimes Pokrovski would know who I was, but not often, for more +usually he was unconscious. Sometimes, too, he would talk all night with +some unknown person, in dim, mysterious language that caused his gasping +voice to echo hoarsely through the narrow room as through a sepulchre; +and at such times, I found the situation a strange one. During his last +night he was especially lightheaded, for then he was in terrible agony, +and kept rambling in his speech until my soul was torn with pity. +Everyone in the house was alarmed, and Anna Thedorovna fell to praying +that God might soon take him. When the doctor had been summoned, the +verdict was that the patient would die with the morning. + +That night the elder Pokrovski spent in the corridor, at the door of his +son's room. Though given a mattress to lie upon, he spent his time in +running in and out of the apartment. So broken with grief was he that +he presented a dreadful spectacle, and appeared to have lost both +perception and feeling. His head trembled with agony, and his body +quivered from head to foot as at times he murmured to himself something +which he appeared to be debating. Every moment I expected to see him go +out of his mind. Just before dawn he succumbed to the stress of mental +agony, and fell asleep on his mattress like a man who has been beaten; +but by eight o'clock the son was at the point of death, and I ran to +wake the father. The dying man was quite conscious, and bid us all +farewell. Somehow I could not weep, though my heart seemed to be +breaking. + +The last moments were the most harassing and heartbreaking of all. For +some time past Pokrovski had been asking for something with his failing +tongue, but I had been unable to distinguish his words. Yet my heart had +been bursting with grief. Then for an hour he had lain quieter, except +that he had looked sadly in my direction, and striven to make some sign +with his death-cold hands. At last he again essayed his piteous request +in a hoarse, deep voice, but the words issued in so many inarticulate +sounds, and once more I failed to divine his meaning. By turns I brought +each member of the household to his bedside, and gave him something to +drink, but he only shook his head sorrowfully. Finally, I understood +what it was he wanted. He was asking me to draw aside the curtain from +the window, and to open the casements. Probably he wished to take his +last look at the daylight and the sun and all God's world. I pulled back +the curtain, but the opening day was as dull and mournful--looking as +though it had been the fast-flickering life of the poor invalid. Of +sunshine there was none. Clouds overlaid the sky as with a shroud of +mist, and everything looked sad, rainy, and threatening under a fine +drizzle which was beating against the window-panes, and streaking their +dull, dark surfaces with runlets of cold, dirty moisture. Only a scanty +modicum of daylight entered to war with the trembling rays of the ikon +lamp. The dying man threw me a wistful look, and nodded. The next moment +he had passed away. + +The funeral was arranged for by Anna Thedorovna. A plain coffin was +bought, and a broken-down hearse hired; while, as security for +this outlay, she seized the dead man's books and other articles. +Nevertheless, the old man disputed the books with her, and, raising an +uproar, carried off as many of them as he could--stuffing his pockets +full, and even filling his hat. Indeed, he spent the next three days +with them thus, and refused to let them leave his sight even when it was +time for him to go to church. Throughout he acted like a man bereft +of sense and memory. With quaint assiduity he busied himself about the +bier--now straightening the candlestick on the dead man's breast, now +snuffing and lighting the other candles. Clearly his thoughts were +powerless to remain long fixed on any subject. Neither my mother nor +Anna Thedorovna were present at the requiem, for the former was ill +and the latter was at loggerheads with the old man. Only myself and +the father were there. During the service a sort of panic, a sort of +premonition of the future, came over me, and I could hardly hold myself +upright. At length the coffin had received its burden and was screwed +down; after which the bearers placed it upon a bier, and set out. I +accompanied the cortege only to the end of the street. Here the +driver broke into a trot, and the old man started to run behind the +hearse--sobbing loudly, but with the motion of his running ever and anon +causing the sobs to quaver and become broken off. Next he lost his hat, +the poor old fellow, yet would not stop to pick it up, even though the +rain was beating upon his head, and a wind was rising and the sleet kept +stinging and lashing his face. It seemed as though he were impervious +to the cruel elements as he ran from one side of the hearse to the +other--the skirts of his old greatcoat flapping about him like a pair +of wings. From every pocket of the garment protruded books, while in his +hand he carried a specially large volume, which he hugged closely to his +breast. The passers-by uncovered their heads and crossed themselves as +the cortege passed, and some of them, having done so, remained staring +in amazement at the poor old man. Every now and then a book would slip +from one of his pockets and fall into the mud; whereupon somebody, +stopping him, would direct his attention to his loss, and he would stop, +pick up the book, and again set off in pursuit of the hearse. At the +corner of the street he was joined by a ragged old woman; until at +length the hearse turned a corner, and became hidden from my eyes. Then +I went home, and threw myself, in a transport of grief, upon my mother's +breast--clasping her in my arms, kissing her amid a storm of sobs and +tears, and clinging to her form as though in my embraces I were holding +my last friend on earth, that I might preserve her from death. Yet +already death was standing over her.... + + + + +June 11th + +How I thank you for our walk to the Islands yesterday, Makar +Alexievitch! How fresh and pleasant, how full of verdure, was +everything! And I had not seen anything green for such a long time! +During my illness I used to think that I should never get better, that +I was certainly going to die. Judge, then, how I felt yesterday! True, +I may have seemed to you a little sad, and you must not be angry with me +for that. Happy and light-hearted though I was, there were moments, even +at the height of my felicity, when, for some unknown reason, depression +came sweeping over my soul. I kept weeping about trifles, yet could not +say why I was grieved. The truth is that I am unwell--so much so, that +I look at everything from the gloomy point of view. The pale, clear sky, +the setting sun, the evening stillness--ah, somehow I felt disposed +to grieve and feel hurt at these things; my heart seemed to be +over-charged, and to be calling for tears to relieve it. But why should +I write this to you? It is difficult for my heart to express itself; +still more difficult for it to forego self-expression. Yet possibly +you may understand me. Tears and laughter!... How good you are, Makar +Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked into my eyes as though you could +read in them all that I was feeling--as though you were rejoicing at my +happiness. Whether it were a group of shrubs or an alleyway or a vista +of water that we were passing, you would halt before me, and stand +gazing at my face as though you were showing me possessions of your own. +It told me how kind is your nature, and I love you for it. Today I am +again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and took a chill. Thedora +also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do not forget me. Come and see me +as often as you can.--Your own, + +BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. + + + + +June 12th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--I had supposed that you meant to describe +our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there has arrived +only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must say that, little +though you have put into your letter, that little is not expressed with +rare beauty and grace. Nature, your descriptions of rural scenes, your +analysis of your own feelings--the whole is beautifully written. Alas, +I have no such talent! Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing comes +of it--I might as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I know +from experience. + +You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not harm +my fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness of God +(as expressed in nature's handiwork), and so on. It may all be so, my +dearest one--it may all be exactly as you say. Indeed, I think that you +are right. But if so, the reason is that when one reads such a letter +as you have just sent me, one's heart involuntarily softens, and +affords entrance to thoughts of a graver and weightier order. Listen, my +darling; I have something to tell you, my beloved one. + +I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and first +entered the service--though I shall soon have completed my thirtieth +year of official activity. I may say that at first I was much pleased +with my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I grew in mind, and fell +to studying my fellow-men. Likewise I may say that I lived an upright +life--so much so that at last I incurred persecution. This you may not +believe, but it is true. To think that men so cruel should exist! For +though, dearest one, I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like +everyone else. Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I +tell you what these cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell +it you--and all because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured +disposition! + +Things began with "this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your fault." +Then it went on to "I need hardly say that the fault is wholly Makar +Alexievitch's." Finally it became "OF COURSE Makar Alexievitch is to +blame." Do you see the sequence of things, my darling? Every mistake +was attributed to me, until "Makar Alexievitch" became a byword in our +department. Also, while making of me a proverb, these fellows could not +give me a smile or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with +my uniform, with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to +their taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from +that day to this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can +grow accustomed to anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable +disposition, like all men of small stature)--yet why should these things +be? Whom have I harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted? Whom have I ever +traduced to his superiors? No, the fault is that more than once I have +asked for an increase of salary. But have I ever CABALLED for it? No, +you would be wrong in thinking so, my dearest one. HOW could I ever +have done so? You yourself have had many opportunities of seeing how +incapable I am of deceit or chicanery. + +Why then, should this have fallen to my lot?... However, since you think +me worthy of respect, my darling, I do not care, for you are far and +away the best person in the world.... What do you consider to be the +greatest social virtue? In private conversation Evstafi Ivanovitch once +told me that the greatest social virtue might be considered to be an +ability to get money to spend. Also, my comrades used jestingly (yes, +I know only jestingly) to propound the ethical maxim that a man ought +never to let himself become a burden upon anyone. Well, I am a burden +upon no one. It is my own crust of bread that I eat; and though that +crust is but a poor one, and sometimes actually a maggoty one, it has +at least been EARNED, and therefore, is being put to a right and lawful +use. What therefore, ought I to do? I know that I can earn but little by +my labours as a copyist; yet even of that little I am proud, for it has +entailed WORK, and has wrung sweat from my brow. What harm is there in +being a copyist? "He is only an amanuensis," people say of me. But what +is there so disgraceful in that? My writing is at least legible, neat, +and pleasant to look upon--and his Excellency is satisfied with it. +Indeed, I transcribe many important documents. At the same time, I know +that my writing lacks STYLE, which is why I have never risen in the +service. Even to you, my dear one, I write simply and without tricks, +but just as a thought may happen to enter my head. Yes, I know all this; +but if everyone were to become a fine writer, who would there be left to +act as copyists?... Whatsoever questions I may put to you in my letters, +dearest, I pray you to answer them. I am sure that you need me, that I +can be of use to you; and, since that is so, I must not allow myself +to be distracted by any trifle. Even if I be likened to a rat, I do not +care, provided that that particular rat be wanted by you, and be of use +in the world, and be retained in its position, and receive its reward. +But what a rat it is! + +Enough of this, dearest one. I ought not to have spoken of it, but I +lost my temper. Still, it is pleasant to speak the truth sometimes. +Goodbye, my own, my darling, my sweet little comforter! I will come to +you soon--yes, I will certainly come to you. Until I do so, do not fret +yourself. With me I shall be bringing a book. Once more goodbye.--Your +heartfelt well-wisher, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 20th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I am writing to you post-haste--I am +hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do you suppose +is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity has occurred for +you to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells me that a retired civil +servant of her acquaintance has a uniform to sell--one cut to regulation +pattern and in good repair, as well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO +not tell me that you have not got the money, for I know from your own +lips that you HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See +what terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful--they are +patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That this is +so, I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me about it. So +listen to me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it for MY sake. Do it to +show that you really love me. + +You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar +Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that you +should spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money, upon me? +How you love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I do not need it, +that such expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I am CERTAIN, that you +love me--therefore, it is useless to remind me of the fact with gifts. +Nor do I like receiving them, since I know how much they must have cost +you. No--put your money to a better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to +do so. Also, you ask me to send you a continuation of my memoirs--to +conclude them. But I know not how I contrived even to write as much of +them as I did; and now I have not the strength to write further of my +past, nor the desire to give it a single thought. Such recollections are +terrible to me. Most difficult of all is it for me to speak of my poor +mother, who left her destitute daughter a prey to villains. My heart +runs blood whenever I think of it; it is so fresh in my memory that +I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor rest for its insistence, +although a year has now elapsed since the events took place. But all +this you know. + +Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She accuses +me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made against herself with +regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps sending for me, and telling +me that I have taken to evil courses, but that if I will return to her, +she will smooth over matters with Bwikov, and force him to confess his +fault. Also, she says that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them +all! I am quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to +me reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman though +you may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other people I do +not wish to know, and would gladly forget if I could.... What are they +wanting with me now? Thedora declares it all to be a trick, and says +that in time they will leave me alone. God grant it be so! + +B. D. + + + + +June 21st. + +MY OWN, MY DARLING,--I wish to write to you, yet know not where to +begin. Things are as strange as though we were actually living together. +Also I would add that never in my life have I passed such happy days as +I am spending at present. 'Tis as though God had blessed me with a home +and a family of my own! Yes, you are my little daughter, beloved. But +why mention the four sorry roubles that I sent you? You needed them; +I know that from Thedora herself, and it will always be a particular +pleasure to me to gratify you in anything. It will always be my one +happiness in life. Pray, therefore, leave me that happiness, and do +not seek to cross me in it. Things are not as you suppose. I have now +reached the sunshine since, in the first place, I am living so close to +you as almost to be with you (which is a great consolation to my mind), +while, in the second place, a neighbour of mine named Rataziaev (the +retired official who gives the literary parties) has today invited me +to tea. This evening, therefore, there will be a gathering at which we +shall discuss literature! Think of that my darling! Well, goodbye now. +I have written this without any definite aim in my mind, but solely to +assure you of my welfare. Through Theresa I have received your message +that you need an embroidered cloak to wear, so I will go and purchase +one. Yes, tomorrow I mean to purchase that embroidered cloak, and so +give myself the pleasure of having satisfied one of your wants. I know +where to go for such a garment. For the time being I remain your sincere +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 22nd. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have to tell you that a sad event +has happened in this house--an event to excite one's utmost pity. +This morning, about five o'clock, one of Gorshkov's children died of +scarlatina, or something of the kind. I have been to pay the parents +a visit of condolence, and found them living in the direst poverty and +disorder. Nor is that surprising, seeing that the family lives in a +single room, with only a screen to divide it for decency's sake. Already +the coffin was standing in their midst--a plain but decent shell which +had been bought ready-made. The child, they told me, had been a boy of +nine, and full of promise. What a pitiful spectacle! Though not weeping, +the mother, poor woman, looked broken with grief. After all, to have one +burden the less on their shoulders may prove a relief, though there are +still two children left--a babe at the breast and a little girl of six! +How painful to see these suffering children, and to be unable to help +them! The father, clad in an old, dirty frockcoat, was seated on a +dilapidated chair. Down his cheeks there were coursing tears--though +less through grief than owing to a long-standing affliction of the eyes. +He was so thin, too! Always he reddens in the face when he is addressed, +and becomes too confused to answer. A little girl, his daughter, was +leaning against the coffin--her face looking so worn and thoughtful, +poor mite! Do you know, I cannot bear to see a child look thoughtful. +On the floor there lay a rag doll, but she was not playing with it as, +motionless, she stood there with her finger to her lips. Even a bon-bon +which the landlady had given her she was not eating. Is it not all sad, +sad, Barbara? + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 25th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I return you your book. In my opinion it +is a worthless one, and I would rather not have it in my possession. +Why do you save up your money to buy such trash? Except in jest, do +such books really please you? However, you have now promised to send me +something else to read. I will share the cost of it. Now, farewell until +we meet again. I have nothing more to say. + +B. D. + + + + +June 26th. + +MY DEAR LITTLE BARBARA--To tell you the truth, I myself have not read +the book of which you speak. That is to say, though I began to read it, +I soon saw that it was nonsense, and written only to make people laugh. +"However," thought I, "it is at least a CHEERFUL work, and so may please +Barbara." That is why I sent it you. + +Rataziaev has now promised to give me something really literary to read; +so you shall soon have your book, my darling. He is a man who reflects; +he is a clever fellow, as well as himself a writer--such a writer! His +pen glides along with ease, and in such a style (even when he is writing +the most ordinary, the most insignificant of articles) that I have often +remarked upon the fact, both to Phaldoni and to Theresa. Often, too, I +go to spend an evening with him. He reads aloud to us until five o'clock +in the morning, and we listen to him. It is a revelation of things +rather than a reading. It is charming, it is like a bouquet of +flowers--there is a bouquet of flowers in every line of each page. +Besides, he is such an approachable, courteous, kind-hearted fellow! +What am I compared with him? Why, nothing, simply nothing! He is a +man of reputation, whereas I--well, I do not exist at all. Yet he +condescends to my level. At this very moment I am copying out a +document for him. But you must not think that he finds any DIFFICULTY in +condescending to me, who am only a copyist. No, you must not believe the +base gossip that you may hear. I do copying work for him simply in order +to please myself, as well as that he may notice me--a thing that always +gives me pleasure. I appreciate the delicacy of his position. He is a +good--a very good--man, and an unapproachable writer. + +What a splendid thing is literature, Barbara--what a splendid thing! +This I learnt before I had known Rataziaev even for three days. It +strengthens and instructs the heart of man.... No matter what there be +in the world, you will find it all written down in Rataziaev's works. +And so well written down, too! Literature is a sort of picture--a sort +of picture or mirror. It connotes at once passion, expression, fine +criticism, good learning, and a document. Yes, I have learned this from +Rataziaev himself. I can assure you, Barbara, that if only you could be +sitting among us, and listening to the talk (while, with the rest of us, +you smoked a pipe), and were to hear those present begin to argue +and dispute concerning different matters, you would feel of as little +account among them as I do; for I myself figure there only as a +blockhead, and feel ashamed, since it takes me a whole evening to think +of a single word to interpolate--and even then the word will not come! +In a case like that a man regrets that, as the proverb has it, he should +have reached man's estate but not man's understanding.... What do I +do in my spare time? I sleep like a fool, though I would far rather be +occupied with something else--say, with eating or writing, since the one +is useful to oneself, and the other is beneficial to one's fellows. You +should see how much money these fellows contrive to save! How much, for +instance, does not Rataziaev lay by? A few days' writing, I am told, can +earn him as much as three hundred roubles! Indeed, if a man be a writer +of short stories or anything else that is interesting, he can sometimes +pocket five hundred roubles, or a thousand, at a time! Think of it, +Barbara! Rataziaev has by him a small manuscript of verses, and for it +he is asking--what do you think? Seven thousand roubles! Why, one could +buy a whole house for that sum! He has even refused five thousand for a +manuscript, and on that occasion I reasoned with him, and advised him +to accept the five thousand. But it was of no use. "For," said he, "they +will soon offer me seven thousand," and kept to his point, for he is a +man of some determination. + +Suppose, now, that I were to give you an extract from "Passion in Italy" +(as another work of his is called). Read this, dearest Barbara, and +judge for yourself: + +"Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had welled until +it had reached boiling point. + +"'Countess,' he cried, 'do you know how terrible is this adoration of +mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have not deceived me--I +love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a madman might! All the blood +that is in your husband's body could never quench the furious, +surging rapture that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the +all-destroying, infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! +Oh Zinaida, my Zinaida!' + +"'Vladimir!' she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his +bosom. + +"'My Zinaida!' cried the enraptured Smileski once more. + +"His breath was coming in sharp, broken pants. The lamp of love was +burning brightly on the altar of passion, and searing the hearts of the +two unfortunate sufferers. + +"'Vladimir!' again she whispered in her intoxication, while her bosom +heaved, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes flashed fire. + +"Thus was a new and dread union consummated. + +"Half an hour later the aged Count entered his wife's boudoir. + +"'How now, my love?' said he. 'Surely it is for some welcome guest +beyond the common that you have had the samovar [Tea-urn.] thus +prepared?' And he smote her lightly on the cheek." + +What think you of THAT, Barbara? True, it is a little too +outspoken--there can be no doubt of that; yet how grand it is, how +splendid! With your permission I will also quote you an extract from +Rataziaev's story, Ermak and Zuleika: + +"'You love me, Zuleika? Say again that you love me, you love me!' + +"'I DO love you, Ermak,' whispered Zuleika. + +"'Then by heaven and earth I thank you! By heaven and earth you have +made me happy! You have given me all, all that my tortured soul has +for immemorial years been seeking! 'Tis for this that you have led me +hither, my guiding star--'tis for this that you have conducted me to +the Girdle of Stone! To all the world will I now show my Zuleika, and +no man, demon or monster of Hell, shall bid me nay! Oh, if men would but +understand the mysterious passions of her tender heart, and see the poem +which lurks in each of her little tears! Suffer me to dry those tears +with my kisses! Suffer me to drink of those heavenly drops, Oh being who +art not of this earth!' + +"'Ermak,' said Zuleika, 'the world is cruel, and men are unjust. But +LET them drive us from their midst--let them judge us, my beloved Ermak! +What has a poor maiden who was reared amid the snows of Siberia to do +with their cold, icy, self-sufficient world? Men cannot understand me, +my darling, my sweetheart.' + +"'Is that so? Then shall the sword of the Cossacks sing and whistle over +their heads!' cried Ermak with a furious look in his eyes." + +What must Ermak have felt when he learnt that his Zuleika had been +murdered, Barbara?--that, taking advantages of the cover of night, the +blind old Kouchoum had, in Ermak's absence, broken into the latter's +tent, and stabbed his own daughter in mistake for the man who had robbed +him of sceptre and crown? + +"'Oh that I had a stone whereon to whet my sword!' cried Ermak in the +madness of his wrath as he strove to sharpen his steel blade upon the +enchanted rock. 'I would have his blood, his blood! I would tear him +limb from limb, the villain!'" + +Then Ermak, unable to survive the loss of his Zuleika, throws himself +into the Irtisch, and the tale comes to an end. + +Here, again, is another short extract--this time written in a more +comical vein, to make people laugh: + +"Do you know Ivan Prokofievitch Zheltopuzh? He is the man who took a +piece out of Prokofi Ivanovitch's leg. Ivan's character is one of the +rugged order, and therefore, one that is rather lacking in virtue. +Yet he has a passionate relish for radishes and honey. Once he also +possessed a friend named Pelagea Antonovna. Do you know Pelagea +Antonovna? She is the woman who always puts on her petticoat wrong side +outwards." + +What humour, Barbara--what purest humour! We rocked with laughter when +he read it aloud to us. Yes, that is the kind of man he is. Possibly the +passage is a trifle over-frolicsome, but at least it is harmless, and +contains no freethought or liberal ideas. In passing, I may say that +Rataziaev is not only a supreme writer, but also a man of upright +life--which is more than can be said for most writers. + +What, do you think, is an idea that sometimes enters my head? In fact, +what if I myself were to write something? How if suddenly a book were +to make its appearance in the world bearing the title of "The Poetical +Works of Makar Dievushkin"? What THEN, my angel? How should you view, +should you receive, such an event? I may say of myself that never, after +my book had appeared, should I have the hardihood to show my face on +the Nevski Prospect; for would it not be too dreadful to hear every +one saying, "Here comes the literateur and poet, Dievushkin--yes, it is +Dievushkin himself." What, in such a case, should I do with my feet (for +I may tell you that almost always my shoes are patched, or have just +been resoled, and therefore look anything but becoming)? To think that +the great writer Dievushkin should walk about in patched footgear! If +a duchess or a countess should recognise me, what would she say, poor +woman? Perhaps, though, she would not notice my shoes at all, since +it may reasonably be supposed that countesses do not greatly occupy +themselves with footgear, especially with the footgear of civil service +officials (footgear may differ from footgear, it must be remembered). +Besides, I should find that the countess had heard all about me, for +my friends would have betrayed me to her--Rataziaev among the first of +them, seeing that he often goes to visit Countess V., and practically +lives at her house. She is said to be a woman of great intellect and +wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev! + +But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse myself and +to divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This is a long epistle +that I am sending you, but the reason is that today I feel in good +spirits after dining at Rataziaev's. There I came across a novel which I +hardly know how to describe to you. Do not think the worse of me on that +account, even though I bring you another book instead (for I certainly +mean to bring one). The novel in question was one of Paul de Kock's, and +not a novel for you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your +eyes. In fact, it is said to have greatly offended the critics of St. +Petersburg. Also, I am sending you a pound of bonbons--bought specially +for yourself. Each time that you eat one, beloved, remember the sender. +Only, do not bite the iced ones, but suck them gently, lest they make +your teeth ache. Perhaps, too, you like comfits? Well, write and tell +me if it is so. Goodbye, goodbye. Christ watch over you, my +darling!--Always your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +June 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--Thedora tells me that, should I wish, +there are some people who will be glad to help me by obtaining me an +excellent post as governess in a certain house. What think you, my +friend? Shall I go or not? Of course, I should then cease to be a burden +to you, and the post appears to be a comfortable one. On the other hand, +the idea of entering a strange house appals me. The people in it are +landed gentry, and they will begin to ask me questions, and to busy +themselves about me. What answers shall I then return? You see, I am now +so unused to society--so shy! I like to live in a corner to which I have +long grown used. Yes, the place with which one is familiar is always the +best. Even if for companion one has but sorrow, that place will still be +the best.... God alone knows what duties the post will entail. Perhaps +I shall merely be required to act as nursemaid; and in any case, I hear +that the governess there has been changed three times in two years. For +God's sake, Makar Alexievitch, advise me whether to go or not. Why do +you never come near me now? Do let my eyes have an occasional sight of +you. Mass on Sundays is almost the only time when we see one another. +How retiring you have become! So also have I, even though, in a way, I +am your kinswoman. You must have ceased to love me, Makar Alexievitch. I +spend many a weary hour because of it. Sometimes, when dusk is falling, +I find myself lonely--oh, so lonely! Thedora has gone out somewhere, and +I sit here and think, and think, and think. I remember all the past, its +joys and its sorrows. It passes before my eyes in detail, it glimmers at +me as out of a mist; and as it does so, well-known faces appear, which +seem actually to be present with me in this room! Most frequently of +all, I see my mother. Ah, the dreams that come to me! I feel that my +health is breaking, so weak am I. When this morning I arose, sickness +took me until I vomited and vomited. Yes, I feel, I know, that death is +approaching. Who will bury me when it has come? Who will visit my tomb? +Who will sorrow for me? And now it is in a strange place, in the house +of a stranger, that I may have to die! Yes, in a corner which I do not +know!... My God, how sad a thing is life!... Why do you send me comfits +to eat? Whence do you get the money to buy them? Ah, for God's sake keep +the money, keep the money. Thedora has sold a carpet which I have made. +She got fifty roubles for it, which is very good--I had expected less. +Of the fifty roubles I shall give Thedora three, and with the remainder +make myself a plain, warm dress. Also, I am going to make you a +waistcoat--to make it myself, and out of good material. + +Also, Thedora has brought me a book--"The Stories of Bielkin"--which I +will forward you, if you would care to read it. Only, do not soil it, +nor yet retain it, for it does not belong to me. It is by Pushkin. Two +years ago I read these stories with my mother, and it would hurt me +to read them again. If you yourself have any books, pray let me have +them--so long as they have not been obtained from Rataziaev. Probably he +will be giving you one of his own works when he has had one printed. +How is it that his compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I +think them SUCH rubbish! + +--Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! When feeling sad, I always +like to talk of something, for it acts upon me like medicine--I begin +to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what is preying upon my heart. +Good bye, good-bye, my friend--Your own + +B. D. + + + + +June 28th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--Away with melancholy! Really, beloved, +you ought to be ashamed of yourself! How can you allow such thoughts to +enter your head? Really and truly you are quite well; really and truly +you are, my darling. Why, you are blooming--simply blooming. True, I see +a certain touch of pallor in your face, but still you are blooming. A +fig for dreams and visions! Yes, for shame, dearest! Drive away those +fancies; try to despise them. Why do I sleep so well? Why am I never +ailing? Look at ME, beloved. I live well, I sleep peacefully, I retain +my health, I can ruffle it with my juniors. In fact, it is a pleasure +to see me. Come, come, then, sweetheart! Let us have no more of this. +I know that that little head of yours is capable of any fancy--that all +too easily you take to dreaming and repining; but for my sake, cease to +do so. + +Are you to go to these people, you ask me? Never! No, no, again no! How +could you think of doing such a thing as taking a journey? I will not +allow it--I intend to combat your intention with all my might. I will +sell my frockcoat, and walk the streets in my shirt sleeves, rather than +let you be in want. But no, Barbara. I know you, I know you. This is +merely a trick, merely a trick. And probably Thedora alone is to +blame for it. She appears to be a foolish old woman, and to be able to +persuade you to do anything. Do not believe her, my dearest. I am sure +that you know what is what, as well as SHE does. Eh, sweetheart? She is +a stupid, quarrelsome, rubbish-talking old woman who brought her late +husband to the grave. Probably she has been plaguing you as much as she +did him. No, no, dearest; you must not take this step. What should I do +then? What would there be left for ME to do? Pray put the idea out +of your head. What is it you lack here? I cannot feel sufficiently +overjoyed to be near you, while, for your part, you love me well, and +can live your life here as quietly as you wish. Read or sew, whichever +you like--or read and do not sew. Only, do not desert me. Try, yourself, +to imagine how things would seem after you had gone. Here am I sending +you books, and later we will go for a walk. Come, come, then, my +Barbara! Summon to your aid your reason, and cease to babble of trifles. + +As soon as I can I will come and see you, and then you shall tell me the +whole story. This will not do, sweetheart; this certainly will not do. +Of course, I know that I am not an educated man, and have received but a +sorry schooling, and have had no inclination for it, and think too much +of Rataziaev, if you will; but he is my friend, and therefore, I must +put in a word or two for him. Yes, he is a splendid writer. Again and +again I assert that he writes magnificently. I do not agree with +you about his works, and never shall. He writes too ornately, too +laconically, with too great a wealth of imagery and imagination. Perhaps +you have read him without insight, Barbara? Or perhaps you were out of +spirits at the time, or angry with Thedora about something, or worried +about some mischance? Ah, but you should read him sympathetically, and, +best of all, at a time when you are feeling happy and contented and +pleasantly disposed--for instance, when you have a bonbon or two in your +mouth. Yes, that is the way to read Rataziaev. I do not dispute (indeed, +who would do so?) that better writers than he exist--even far better; +but they are good, and he is good too--they write well, and he writes +well. It is chiefly for his own sake that he writes, and he is to be +approved for so doing. + +Now goodbye, dearest. More I cannot write, for I must hurry away to +business. Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you!--Your +faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S--Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it through, +this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. + + + +MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--No, no, my friend, I must not go on living +near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come to the +conclusion that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so good a post. I +should at least have an assured crust of bread; I might at least set to +work to earn my employers' favour, and even try to change my character +if required to do so. Of course it is a sad and sorry thing to have to +live among strangers, and to be forced to seek their patronage, and to +conceal and constrain one's own personality--but God will help me. I +must not remain forever a recluse, for similar chances have come my way +before. I remember how, when a little girl at school, I used to go home +on Sundays and spend the time in frisking and dancing about. Sometimes +my mother would chide me for so doing, but I did not care, for my heart +was too joyous, and my spirits too buoyant, for that. Yet as the evening +of Sunday came on, a sadness as of death would overtake me, for at nine +o'clock I had to return to school, where everything was cold and strange +and severe--where the governesses, on Mondays, lost their tempers, and +nipped my ears, and made me cry. On such occasions I would retire to a +corner and weep alone; concealing my tears lest I should be called lazy. +Yet it was not because I had to study that I used to weep, and in time I +grew more used to things, and, after my schooldays were over, shed tears +only when I was parting with friends.... + +It is not right for me to live in dependence upon you. The thought +tortures me. I tell you this frankly, for the reason that frankness +with you has become a habit. Cannot I see that daily, at earliest dawn, +Thedora rises to do washing and scrubbing, and remains working at it +until late at night, even though her poor old bones must be aching for +want of rest? Cannot I also see that YOU are ruining yourself for me, +and hoarding your last kopeck that you may spend it on my behalf? You +ought not so to act, my friend, even though you write that you would +rather sell your all than let me want for anything. I believe in you, my +friend--I entirely believe in your good heart; but, you say that to me +now (when, perhaps, you have received some unexpected sum or gratuity) +and there is still the future to be thought of. You yourself know that I +am always ailing--that I cannot work as you do, glad though I should be +of any work if I could get it; so what else is there for me to do? To +sit and repine as I watch you and Thedora? But how would that be of any +use to you? AM I necessary to you, comrade of mine? HAVE I ever done +you any good? Though I am bound to you with my whole soul, and love you +dearly and strongly and wholeheartedly, a bitter fate has ordained that +that love should be all that I have to give--that I should be unable, +by creating for you subsistence, to repay you for all your kindness. Do +not, therefore, detain me longer, but think the matter out, and give me +your opinion on it. In expectation of which I remain your sweetheart, + +B. D. + + + + +July 1st. + +Rubbish, rubbish, Barbara!--What you say is sheer rubbish. Stay here, +rather, and put such thoughts out of your head. None of what you suppose +is true. I can see for myself that it is not. Whatsoever you lack here, +you have but to ask me for it. Here you love and are loved, and we might +easily be happy and contented together. What could you want more? What +have you to do with strangers? You cannot possibly know what strangers +are like. I know it, though, and could have told you if you had asked +me. There is a stranger whom I know, and whose bread I have eaten. He +is a cruel man, Barbara--a man so bad that he would be unworthy of your +little heart, and would soon tear it to pieces with his railings and +reproaches and black looks. On the other hand, you are safe and well +here--you are as safe as though you were sheltered in a nest. Besides, +you would, as it were, leave me with my head gone. For what should I +have to do when you were gone? What could I, an old man, find to do? Are +you not necessary to me? Are you not useful to me? Eh? Surely you do not +think that you are not useful? You are of great use to me, Barbara, for +you exercise a beneficial influence upon my life. Even at this moment, +as I think of you, I feel cheered, for always I can write letters to +you, and put into them what I am feeling, and receive from you detailed +answers.... I have bought you a wardrobe, and also procured you a +bonnet; so you see that you have only to give me a commission for it to +be executed.... No--in what way are you not useful? What should I do +if I were deserted in my old age? What would become of me? Perhaps you +never thought of that, Barbara--perhaps you never said to yourself, "How +could HE get on without me?" You see, I have grown so accustomed to you. +What else would it end in, if you were to go away? Why, in my hiking to +the Neva's bank and doing away with myself. Ah, Barbara, darling, I +can see that you want me to be taken away to the Volkovo Cemetery in +a broken-down old hearse, with some poor outcast of the streets to +accompany my coffin as chief mourner, and the gravediggers to heap my +body with clay, and depart and leave me there. How wrong of you, how +wrong of you, my beloved! Yes, by heavens, how wrong of you! I am +returning you your book, little friend; and, if you were to ask of me +my opinion of it, I should say that never before in my life had I read +a book so splendid. I keep wondering how I have hitherto contrived to +remain such an owl. For what have I ever done? From what wilds did +I spring into existence? I KNOW nothing--I know simply NOTHING. My +ignorance is complete. Frankly, I am not an educated man, for until now +I have read scarcely a single book--only "A Portrait of Man" (a clever +enough work in its way), "The Boy Who Could Play Many Tunes Upon Bells", +and "Ivik's Storks". That is all. But now I have also read "The Station +Overseer" in your little volume; and it is wonderful to think that one +may live and yet be ignorant of the fact that under one's very nose +there may be a book in which one's whole life is described as in a +picture. Never should I have guessed that, as soon as ever one begins to +read such a book, it sets one on both to remember and to consider and to +foretell events. Another reason why I liked this book so much is that, +though, in the case of other works (however clever they be), one may +read them, yet remember not a word of them (for I am a man naturally +dull of comprehension, and unable to read works of any great +importance),--although, as I say, one may read such works, one reads +such a book as YOURS as easily as though it had been written by oneself, +and had taken possession of one's heart, and turned it inside out for +inspection, and were describing it in detail as a matter of perfect +simplicity. Why, I might almost have written the book myself! Why not, +indeed? I can feel just as the people in the book do, and find myself +in positions precisely similar to those of, say, the character Samson +Virin. In fact, how many good-hearted wretches like Virin are there not +walking about amongst us? How easily, too, it is all described! I assure +you, my darling, that I almost shed tears when I read that Virin so took +to drink as to lose his memory, become morose, and spend whole days over +his liquor; as also that he choked with grief and wept bitterly when, +rubbing his eyes with his dirty hand, he bethought him of his wandering +lamb, his daughter Dunasha! How natural, how natural! You should read +the book for yourself. The thing is actually alive. Even I can see that; +even I can realise that it is a picture cut from the very life around +me. In it I see our own Theresa (to go no further) and the poor +Tchinovnik--who is just such a man as this Samson Virin, except for +his surname of Gorshkov. The book describes just what might happen to +ourselves--to myself in particular. Even a count who lives in the Nevski +Prospect or in Naberezhnaia Street might have a similar experience, +though he might APPEAR to be different, owing to the fact that his life +is cast on a higher plane. Yes, just the same things might happen to +him--just the same things.... Here you are wishing to go away and leave +us; yet, be careful lest it would not be I who had to pay the penalty of +your doing so. For you might ruin both yourself and me. For the love of +God, put away these thoughts from you, my darling, and do not torture me +in vain. How could you, my poor little unfledged nestling, find yourself +food, and defend yourself from misfortune, and ward off the wiles of +evil men? Think better of it, Barbara, and pay no more heed to +foolish advice and calumny, but read your book again, and read it with +attention. It may do you much good. + +I have spoken of Rataziaev's "The Station Overseer". However, the author +has told me that the work is old-fashioned, since, nowadays, books are +issued with illustrations and embellishments of different sorts (though +I could not make out all that he said). Pushkin he adjudges a splendid +poet, and one who has done honour to Holy Russia. Read your book again, +Barbara, and follow my advice, and make an old man happy. The Lord God +Himself will reward you. Yes, He will surely reward you.--Your faithful +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Today Thedora came to me with fifteen +roubles in silver. How glad was the poor woman when I gave her three of +them! I am writing to you in great haste, for I am busy cutting out a +waistcoat to send to you--buff, with a pattern of flowers. Also I +am sending you a book of stories; some of which I have read myself, +particularly one called "The Cloak." ... You invite me to go to the +theatre with you. But will it not cost too much? Of course we might sit +in the gallery. It is a long time (indeed I cannot remember when I last +did so) since I visited a theatre! Yet I cannot help fearing that such +an amusement is beyond our means. Thedora keeps nodding her head, and +saying that you have taken to living above your income. I myself divine +the same thing by the amount which you have spent upon me. Take care, +dear friend, that misfortune does not come of it, for Thedora has also +informed me of certain rumours concerning your inability to meet your +landlady's bills. In fact, I am very anxious about you. Now, goodbye, +for I must hasten away to see about another matter--about the changing +of the ribands on my bonnet. + +P.S.--Do you know, if we go to the theatre, I think that I shall wear my +new hat and black mantilla. Will that not look nice? + + + + + +July 7th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--SO much for yesterday! Yes, dearest, we +have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly +bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her +with all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my +first sight of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the +theatre. In those days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young +men--a most noisy crew--and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, +to the theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, +and only assisted them for company's sake. How those fellows talked to +me of this actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire +band of them (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would +betake themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended +to the gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the +actress in question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after +we had returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on +talking about her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring +themselves to be in love with "the canary-bird of their hearts." My +defenseless self, too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as +young as they. What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth +tier of the gallery! Yet, I never got a sight of more than just a corner +of the curtain, but had to content myself with listening. She had a +fine, resounding, mellow voice like a nightingale's, and we all of us +used to clap our hands loudly, and to shout at the top of our lungs. In +short, we came very near to being ejected. On the first occasion I went +home walking as in a mist, with a single rouble left in my pocket, and +an interval of ten clear days confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, +what think you, dearest? The very next day, before going to work, I +called at a French perfumer's, and spent my whole remaining capital on +some eau-de-Cologne and scented soap! Why I did so I do not know. Nor +did I dine at home that day, but kept walking and walking past her +windows (she lived in a fourth-storey flat on the Nevski Prospect). +At length I returned to my own lodging, but only to rest a short hour +before again setting off to the Nevski Prospect and resuming my vigil +before her windows. For a month and a half I kept this up--dangling in +her train. Sometimes I would hire cabs, and discharge them in view of +her abode; until at length I had entirely ruined myself, and got into +debt. Then I fell out of love with her--I grew weary of the pursuit.... +You see, therefore, to what depths an actress can reduce a decent man. +In those days I was young. Yes, in those days I was VERY young. + +M. D. + + + + +July 8th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--The book which I received from you on +the 6th of this month I now hasten to return, while at the same time +hastening also to explain matters to you in this accompanying letter. +What a misfortune, my beloved, that you should have brought me to such a +pass! Our lots in life are apportioned by the Almighty according to our +human deserts. To such a one He assigns a life in a general's epaulets +or as a privy councillor--to such a one, I say, He assigns a life of +command; whereas to another one, He allots only a life of unmurmuring +toil and suffering. These things are calculated according to a man's +CAPACITY. One man may be capable of one thing, and another of another, +and their several capacities are ordered by the Lord God himself. I +have now been thirty years in the public service, and have fulfilled my +duties irreproachably, remained abstemious, and never been detected +in any unbecoming behaviour. As a citizen, I may confess--I confess +it freely--I have been guilty of certain shortcomings; yet those +shortcomings have been combined with certain virtues. I am respected by +my superiors, and even his Excellency has had no fault to find with me; +and though I have never been shown any special marks of favour, I know +that every one finds me at least satisfactory. Also, my writing is +sufficiently legible and clear. Neither too rounded nor too fine, it +is a running hand, yet always suitable. Of our staff only Ivan +Prokofievitch writes a similar hand. Thus have I lived till the grey +hairs of my old age; yet I can think of no serious fault committed. Of +course, no one is free from MINOR faults. Everyone has some of them, and +you among the rest, my beloved. But in grave or in audacious offences +never have I been detected, nor in infringements of regulations, nor in +breaches of the public peace. No, never! This you surely know, even as +the author of your book must have known it. Yes, he also must have +known it when he sat down to write. I had not expected this of you, my +Barbara. I should never have expected it. + +What? In future I am not to go on living peacefully in my little corner, +poor though that corner be I am not to go on living, as the proverb has +it, without muddying the water, or hurting any one, or forgetting the +fear of the Lord God and of oneself? I am not to see, forsooth, that +no man does me an injury, or breaks into my home--I am not to take care +that all shall go well with me, or that I have clothes to wear, or that +my shoes do not require mending, or that I be given work to do, or +that I possess sufficient meat and drink? Is it nothing that, where +the pavement is rotten, I have to walk on tiptoe to save my boots? If I +write to you overmuch concerning myself, is it concerning ANOTHER man, +rather, that I ought to write--concerning HIS wants, concerning HIS +lack of tea to drink (and all the world needs tea)? Has it ever been +my custom to pry into other men's mouths, to see what is being put into +them? Have I ever been known to offend any one in that respect? No, no, +beloved! Why should I desire to insult other folks when they are not +molesting ME? Let me give you an example of what I mean. A man may go on +slaving and slaving in the public service, and earn the respect of his +superiors (for what it is worth), and then, for no visible reason at +all, find himself made a fool of. Of course he may break out now and +then (I am not now referring only to drunkenness), and (for example) +buy himself a new pair of shoes, and take pleasure in seeing his feet +looking well and smartly shod. Yes, I myself have known what it is +to feel like that (I write this in good faith). Yet I am nonetheless +astonished that Thedor Thedorovitch should neglect what is being said +about him, and take no steps to defend himself. True, he is only a +subordinate official, and sometimes loves to rate and scold; yet why +should he not do so--why should he not indulge in a little vituperation +when he feels like it? Suppose it to be NECESSARY, for FORM'S sake, +to scold, and to set everyone right, and to shower around abuse (for, +between ourselves, Barbara, our friend cannot get on WITHOUT abuse--so +much so that every one humours him, and does things behind his back)? +Well, since officials differ in rank, and every official demands that +he shall be allowed to abuse his fellow officials in proportion to his +rank, it follows that the TONE also of official abuse should become +divided into ranks, and thus accord with the natural order of things. +All the world is built upon the system that each one of us shall have to +yield precedence to some other one, as well as to enjoy a certain power +of abusing his fellows. Without such a provision the world could not +get on at all, and simple chaos would ensue. Yet I am surprised that our +Thedor should continue to overlook insults of the kind that he endures. + +Why do I do my official work at all? Why is that necessary? Will my +doing of it lead anyone who reads it to give me a greatcoat, or to buy +me a new pair of shoes? No, Barbara. Men only read the documents, and +then require me to write more. Sometimes a man will hide himself away, +and not show his face abroad, for the mere reason that, though he has +done nothing to be ashamed of, he dreads the gossip and slandering which +are everywhere to be encountered. If his civic and family life have to +do with literature, everything will be printed and read and laughed +over and discussed; until at length, he hardly dare show his face in +the street at all, seeing that he will have been described by report as +recognisable through his gait alone! Then, when he has amended his ways, +and grown gentler (even though he still continues to be loaded with +official work), he will come to be accounted a virtuous, decent citizen +who has deserved well of his comrades, rendered obedience to his +superiors, wished noone any evil, preserved the fear of God in his +heart, and died lamented. Yet would it not be better, instead of letting +the poor fellow die, to give him a cloak while yet he is ALIVE--to give +it to this same Thedor Thedorovitch (that is to say, to myself)? Yes, +'twere far better if, on hearing the tale of his subordinate's virtues, +the chief of the department were to call the deserving man into his +office, and then and there to promote him, and to grant him an increase +of salary. Thus vice would be punished, virtue would prevail, and the +staff of that department would live in peace together. Here we have an +example from everyday, commonplace life. How, therefore, could you bring +yourself to send me that book, my beloved? It is a badly conceived +work, Barbara, and also unreal, for the reason that in creation such +a Tchinovnik does not exist. No, again I protest against it, little +Barbara; again I protest.--Your most humble, devoted servant, + +M. D. + + + + +July 27th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Your latest conduct and letters had +frightened me, and left me thunderstruck and plunged in doubt, until +what you have said about Thedor explained the situation. Why despair +and go into such frenzies, Makar Alexievitch? Your explanations only +partially satisfy me. Perhaps I did wrong to insist upon accepting +a good situation when it was offered me, seeing that from my last +experience in that way I derived a shock which was anything but a matter +for jesting. You say also that your love for me has compelled you +to hide yourself in retirement. Now, how much I am indebted to you I +realised when you told me that you were spending for my benefit the sum +which you are always reported to have laid by at your bankers; but, now +that I have learned that you never possessed such a fund, but that, on +hearing of my destitute plight, and being moved by it, you decided to +spend upon me the whole of your salary--even to forestall it--and when I +had fallen ill, actually to sell your clothes--when I learned all this +I found myself placed in the harassing position of not knowing how to +accept it all, nor what to think of it. Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought +to have stopped at your first acts of charity--acts inspired by sympathy +and the love of kinsfolk, rather than have continued to squander your +means upon what was unnecessary. Yes, you have betrayed our friendship, +Makar Alexievitch, in that you have not been open with me; and, now that +I see that your last coin has been spent upon dresses and bon-bons and +excursions and books and visits to the theatre for me, I weep bitter +tears for my unpardonable improvidence in having accepted these things +without giving so much as a thought to your welfare. Yes, all that you +have done to give me pleasure has become converted into a source of +grief, and left behind it only useless regret. Of late I have remarked +that you were looking depressed; and though I felt fearful that +something unfortunate was impending, what has happened would otherwise +never have entered my head. To think that your better sense should so +play you false, Makar Alexievitch! What will people think of you, and +say of you? Who will want to know you? You whom, like everyone else, I +have valued for your goodness of heart and modesty and good sense--YOU, +I say, have now given way to an unpleasant vice of which you seem never +before to have been guilty. What were my feelings when Thedora informed +me that you had been discovered drunk in the street, and taken home by +the police? Why, I felt petrified with astonishment--although, in view +of the fact that you had failed me for four days, I had been expecting +some such extraordinary occurrence. Also, have you thought what your +superiors will say of you when they come to learn the true reason of +your absence? You say that everyone is laughing at you, that every +one has learnED of the bond which exists between us, and that your +neighbours habitually refer to me with a sneer. Pay no attention to +this, Makar Alexievitch; for the love of God, be comforted. Also, the +incident between you and the officers has much alarmed me, although +I had heard certain rumours concerning it. Pray explain to me what it +means. You write, too, that you have been afraid to be open with me, for +the reason that your confessions might lose you my friendship. Also, you +say that you are in despair at the thought of being unable to help me in +my illness, owing to the fact that you have sold everything which might +have maintained me, and preserved me in sickness, as well as that you +have borrowed as much as it is possible for you to borrow, and are daily +experiencing unpleasantness with your landlady. Well, in failing to +reveal all this to me you chose the worse course. Now, however, I know +all. You have forced me to recognise that I have been the cause of your +unhappy plight, as well as that my own conduct has brought upon myself +a twofold measure of sorrow. The fact leaves me thunderstruck, Makar +Alexievitch. Ah, friend, an infectious disease is indeed a misfortune, +for now we poor and miserable folk must perforce keep apart from one +another, lest the infection be increased. Yes, I have brought upon you +calamities which never before in your humble, solitary life you had +experienced. This tortures and exhausts me more than I can tell to think +of. + +Write to me quite frankly. Tell me how you came to embark upon such +a course of conduct. Comfort, oh, comfort me if you can. It is not +self-love that prompts me to speak of my own comforting, but my +friendship and love for you, which will never fade from my heart. +Goodbye. I await your answer with impatience. You have thought but +poorly of me, Makar Alexievitch.--Your friend and lover, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +July 28th. + +MY PRICELESS BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--What am I to say to you, now that all +is over, and we are gradually returning to our old position? You say +that you are anxious as to what will be thought of me. Let me tell you +that the dearest thing in life to me is my self-respect; wherefore, in +informing you of my misfortunes and misconduct, I would add that none +of my superiors know of my doings, nor ever will know of them, and that +therefore, I still enjoy a measure of respect in that quarter. Only one +thing do I fear--I fear gossip. Garrulous though my landlady be, she +said but little when, with the aid of your ten roubles, I today paid her +part of her account; and as for the rest of my companions, they do not +matter at all. So long as I have not borrowed money from them, I need +pay them no attention. To conclude my explanations, let me tell you +that I value your respect for me above everything in the world, and have +found it my greatest comfort during this temporary distress of mine. +Thank God, the first shock of things has abated, now that you have +agreed not to look upon me as faithless and an egotist simply because I +have deceived you. I wish to hold you to myself, for the reason that I +cannot bear to part with you, and love you as my guardian angel.... +I have now returned to work, and am applying myself diligently to my +duties. Also, yesterday Evstafi Ivanovitch exchanged a word or two with +me. Yet I will not conceal from you the fact that my debts are crushing +me down, and that my wardrobe is in a sorry state. At the same time, +these things do not REALLY matter and I would bid you not despair about +them. Send me, however, another half-rouble if you can (though that +half-rouble will stab me to the heart--stab me with the thought that it +is not I who am helping you, but YOU who are helping ME). Thedora has +done well to get those fifteen roubles for you. At the moment, fool of +an old man that I am, I have no hope of acquiring any more money; but as +soon as ever I do so, I will write to you and let you know all about it. +What chiefly worries me is the fear of gossip. Goodbye, little angel. I +kiss your hands, and beseech you to regain your health. If this is not +a detailed letter, the reason is that I must soon be starting for the +office, in order that, by strict application to duty, I may make amends +for the past. Further information concerning my doings (as well as +concerning that affair with the officers) must be deferred until +tonight.--Your affectionate and respectful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +July 28th. + +DEAREST LITTLE BARBARA,--It is YOU who have committed a fault--and one +which must weigh heavily upon your conscience. Indeed, your last letter +has amazed and confounded me,--so much so that, on once more looking +into the recesses of my heart, I perceive that I was perfectly right +in what I did. Of course I am not now referring to my debauch (no, +indeed!), but to the fact that I love you, and to the fact that it is +unwise of me to love you--very unwise. You know not how matters stand, +my darling. You know not why I am BOUND to love you. Otherwise you would +not say all that you do. Yet I am persuaded that it is your head rather +than your heart that is speaking. I am certain that your heart thinks +very differently. + +What occurred that night between myself and those officers I scarcely +know, I scarcely remember. You must bear in mind that for some time past +I have been in terrible distress--that for a whole month I have been, so +to speak, hanging by a single thread. Indeed, my position has been most +pitiable. Though I hid myself from you, my landlady was forever shouting +and railing at me. This would not have mattered a jot--the horrible old +woman might have shouted as much as she pleased--had it not been that, +in the first place, there was the disgrace of it, and, in the second +place, she had somehow learned of our connection, and kept proclaiming +it to the household until I felt perfectly deafened, and had to stop my +ears. The point, however, is that other people did not stop their ears, +but, on the contrary, pricked them. Indeed, I am at a loss what to do. + +Really this wretched rabble has driven me to extremities. It all began +with my hearing a strange rumour from Thedora--namely, that an unworthy +suitor had been to visit you, and had insulted you with an improper +proposal. That he had insulted you deeply I knew from my own feelings, +for I felt insulted in an equal degree. Upon that, my angel, I went to +pieces, and, losing all self-control, plunged headlong. Bursting into an +unspeakable frenzy, I was at once going to call upon this villain of a +seducer--though what to do next I knew not, seeing that I was fearful of +giving you offence. Ah, what a night of sorrow it was, and what a time +of gloom, rain, and sleet! Next, I was returning home, but found myself +unable to stand upon my feet. Then Emelia Ilyitch happened to come +by. He also is a tchinovnik--or rather, was a tchinovnik, since he was +turned out of the service some time ago. What he was doing there at that +moment I do not know; I only know that I went with him.... Surely it +cannot give you pleasure to read of the misfortunes of your friend--of +his sorrows, and of the temptations which he experienced?... On the +evening of the third day Emelia urged me to go and see the officer of +whom I have spoken, and whose address I had learned from our dvornik. +More strictly speaking, I had noticed him when, on a previous occasion, +he had come to play cards here, and I had followed him home. Of course +I now see that I did wrong, but I felt beside myself when I heard +them telling him stories about me. Exactly what happened next I cannot +remember. I only remember that several other officers were present as +well as he. Or it may be that I saw everything double--God alone knows. +Also, I cannot exactly remember what I said. I only remember that in my +fury I said a great deal. Then they turned me out of the room, and threw +me down the staircase--pushed me down it, that is to say. How I got home +you know. That is all. Of course, later I blamed myself, and my pride +underwent a fall; but no extraneous person except yourself knows of the +affair, and in any case it does not matter. Perhaps the affair is as you +imagine it to have been, Barbara? One thing I know for certain, and that +is that last year one of our lodgers, Aksenti Osipovitch, took a similar +liberty with Peter Petrovitch, yet kept the fact secret, an absolute +secret. He called him into his room (I happened to be looking through a +crack in the partition-wall), and had an explanation with him in the +way that a gentleman should--noone except myself being a witness of the +scene; whereas, in my own case, I had no explanation at all. After the +scene was over, nothing further transpired between Aksenti Osipovitch +and Peter Petrovitch, for the reason that the latter was so desirous of +getting on in life that he held his tongue. As a result, they bow and +shake hands whenever they meet.... I will not dispute the fact that I +have erred most grievously--that I should never dare to dispute, or that +I have fallen greatly in my own estimation; but, I think I was fated +from birth so to do--and one cannot escape fate, my beloved. Here, +therefore, is a detailed explanation of my misfortunes and sorrows, +written for you to read whenever you may find it convenient. I am far +from well, beloved, and have lost all my gaiety of disposition, but I +send you this letter as a token of my love, devotion, and respect, Oh +dear lady of my affections.--Your humble servant, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +July 29th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have read your two letters, and they +make my heart ache. See here, dear friend of mine. You pass over certain +things in silence, and write about a PORTION only of your misfortunes. +Can it be that the letters are the outcome of a mental disorder?... Come +and see me, for God's sake. Come today, direct from the office, and dine +with us as you have done before. As to how you are living now, or as to +what settlement you have made with your landlady, I know not, for you +write nothing concerning those two points, and seem purposely to have +left them unmentioned. Au revoir, my friend. Come to me today without +fail. You would do better ALWAYS to dine here. Thedora is an excellent +cook. Goodbye--Your own, + +BARBARA DOBROSELOVA. + + + + +August 1st. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Thank God that He has sent you a chance +of repaying my good with good. I believe in so doing, as well as in the +sweetness of your angelic heart. Therefore, I will not reproach you. +Only I pray you, do not again blame me because in the decline of my life +I have played the spendthrift. It was such a sin, was it not?--such a +thing to do? And even if you would still have it that the sin was there, +remember, little friend, what it costs me to hear such words fall from +your lips. Do not be vexed with me for saying this, for my heart is +fainting. Poor people are subject to fancies--this is a provision of +nature. I myself have had reason to know this. The poor man is exacting. +He cannot see God's world as it is, but eyes each passer-by askance, and +looks around him uneasily in order that he may listen to every word that +is being uttered. May not people be talking of him? How is it that he +is so unsightly? What is he feeling at all? What sort of figure is +he cutting on the one side or on the other? It is matter of common +knowledge, my Barbara, that the poor man ranks lower than a rag, and +will never earn the respect of any one. Yes, write about him as you +like--let scribblers say what they choose about him--he will ever remain +as he was. And why is this? It is because, from his very nature, the +poor man has to wear his feelings on his sleeve, so that nothing about +him is sacred, and as for his self-respect--! Well, Emelia told me the +other day that once, when he had to collect subscriptions, official +sanction was demanded for every single coin, since people thought that +it would be no use paying their money to a poor man. Nowadays charity +is strangely administered. Perhaps it has always been so. Either folk do +not know how to administer it, or they are adept in the art--one of the +two. Perhaps you did not know this, so I beg to tell it you. And how +comes it that the poor man knows, is so conscious of it all? The answer +is--by experience. He knows because any day he may see a gentleman enter +a restaurant and ask himself, "What shall I have to eat today? I will +have such and such a dish," while all the time the poor man will +have nothing to eat that day but gruel. There are men, too--wretched +busybodies--who walk about merely to see if they can find some wretched +tchinovnik or broken-down official who has got toes projecting from his +boots or his hair uncut! And when they have found such a one they make +a report of the circumstance, and their rubbish gets entered on the +file.... But what does it matter to you if my hair lacks the shears? If +you will forgive me what may seem to you a piece of rudeness, I declare +that the poor man is ashamed of such things with the sensitiveness of a +young girl. YOU, for instance, would not care (pray pardon my bluntness) +to unrobe yourself before the public eye; and in the same way, the poor +man does not like to be pried at or questioned concerning his family +relations, and so forth. A man of honour and self-respect such as I +am finds it painful and grievous to have to consort with men who would +deprive him of both. + +Today I sat before my colleagues like a bear's cub or a plucked sparrow, +so that I fairly burned with shame. Yes, it hurt me terribly, Barbara. +Naturally one blushes when one can see one's naked toes projecting +through one's boots, and one's buttons hanging by a single thread! +As though on purpose, I seemed, on this occasion, to be peculiarly +dishevelled. No wonder that my spirits fell. When I was talking on +business matters to Stepan Karlovitch, he suddenly exclaimed, for no +apparent reason, "Ah, poor old Makar Alexievitch!" and then left the +rest unfinished. But I knew what he had in his mind, and blushed so +hotly that even the bald patch on my head grew red. Of course the whole +thing is nothing, but it worries me, and leads to anxious thoughts. What +can these fellows know about me? God send that they know nothing! But +I confess that I suspect, I strongly suspect, one of my colleagues. Let +them only betray me! They would betray one's private life for a groat, +for they hold nothing sacred. + +I have an idea who is at the bottom of it all. It is Rataziaev. Probably +he knows someone in our department to whom he has recounted the +story with additions. Or perhaps he has spread it abroad in his own +department, and thence, it has crept and crawled into ours. Everyone +here knows it, down to the last detail, for I have seen them point at +you with their fingers through the window. Oh yes, I have seen them do +it. Yesterday, when I stepped across to dine with you, the whole crew +were hanging out of the window to watch me, and the landlady exclaimed +that the devil was in young people, and called you certain unbecoming +names. But this is as nothing compared with Rataziaev's foul intention +to place us in his books, and to describe us in a satire. He himself has +declared that he is going to do so, and other people say the same. +In fact, I know not what to think, nor what to decide. It is no use +concealing the fact that you and I have sinned against the Lord God.... +You were going to send me a book of some sort, to divert my mind--were +you not, dearest? What book, though, could now divert me? Only such +books as have never existed on earth. Novels are rubbish, and written +for fools and for the idle. Believe me, dearest, I know it through long +experience. Even should they vaunt Shakespeare to you, I tell you that +Shakespeare is rubbish, and proper only for lampoons--Your own, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 2nd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Do not disquiet yourself. God will grant +that all shall turn out well. Thedora has obtained a quantity of work, +both for me and herself, and we are setting about it with a will. +Perhaps it will put us straight again. Thedora suspects my late +misfortunes to be connected with Anna Thedorovna; but I do not care--I +feel extraordinarily cheerful today. So you are thinking of borrowing +more money? If so, may God preserve you, for you will assuredly be +ruined when the time comes for repayment! You had far better come and +live with us here for a little while. Yes, come and take up your abode +here, and pay no attention whatever to what your landlady says. As for +the rest of your enemies and ill-wishers, I am certain that it is with +vain imaginings that you are vexing yourself.... In passing, let me tell +you that your style differs greatly from letter to letter. Goodbye until +we meet again. I await your coming with impatience--Your own, + +B. D. + + + + +August 3rd. + +MY ANGEL, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to inform you, Oh light of my +life, that my hopes are rising again. But, little daughter of mine--do +you really mean it when you say that I am to indulge in no more +borrowings? Why, I could not do without them. Things would go badly with +us both if I did so. You are ailing. Consequently, I tell you roundly +that I MUST borrow, and that I must continue to do so. + +Also, I may tell you that my seat in the office is now next to that of a +certain Emelia Ivanovitch. He is not the Emelia whom you know, but a +man who, like myself, is a privy councillor, as well as represents, with +myself, the senior and oldest official in our department. Likewise he is +a good, disinterested soul, and one that is not over-talkative, though +a true bear in appearance and demeanour. Industrious, and possessed of +a handwriting purely English, his caligraphy is, it must be confessed, +even worse than my own. Yes, he is a good soul. At the same time, we +have never been intimate with one another. We have done no more than +exchange greetings on meeting or parting, borrow one another's penknife +if we needed one, and, in short, observe such bare civilities as +convention demands. Well, today he said to me, "Makar Alexievitch, +what makes you look so thoughtful?" and inasmuch as I could see that +he wished me well, I told him all--or, rather, I did not tell him +EVERYTHING, for that I do to no man (I have not the heart to do it); I +told him just a few scattered details concerning my financial straits. +"Then you ought to borrow," said he. "You ought to obtain a loan of +Peter Petrovitch, who does a little in that way. I myself once borrowed +some money of him, and he charged me fair and light interest." Well, +Barbara, my heart leapt within me at these words. I kept thinking and +thinking,--if only God would put it into the mind of Peter Petrovitch +to be my benefactor by advancing me a loan! I calculated that with its +aid I might both repay my landlady and assist yourself and get rid of my +surroundings (where I can hardly sit down to table without the rascals +making jokes about me). Sometimes his Excellency passes our desk in +the office. He glances at me, and cannot but perceive how poorly I am +dressed. Now, neatness and cleanliness are two of his strongest points. +Even though he says nothing, I feel ready to die with shame when he +approaches. Well, hardening my heart, and putting my diffidence into my +ragged pocket, I approached Peter Petrovitch, and halted before him more +dead than alive. Yet I was hopeful, and though, as it turned out, he +was busily engaged in talking to Thedosei Ivanovitch, I walked up to him +from behind, and plucked at his sleeve. He looked away from me, but I +recited my speech about thirty roubles, et cetera, et cetera, of which, +at first, he failed to catch the meaning. Even when I had explained +matters to him more fully, he only burst out laughing, and said nothing. +Again I addressed to him my request; whereupon, asking me what security +I could give, he again buried himself in his papers, and went on writing +without deigning me even a second glance. Dismay seized me. "Peter +Petrovitch," I said, "I can offer you no security," but to this I added +an explanation that some salary would, in time, be due to me, which +I would make over to him, and account the loan my first debt. At +that moment someone called him away, and I had to wait a little. On +returning, he began to mend his pen as though he had not even noticed +that I was there. But I was for myself this time. "Peter Petrovitch," I +continued, "can you not do ANYTHING?" Still he maintained silence, and +seemed not to have heard me. I waited and waited. At length I determined +to make a final attempt, and plucked him by the sleeve. He muttered +something, and, his pen mended, set about his writing. There was nothing +for me to do but to depart. He and the rest of them are worthy fellows, +dearest--that I do not doubt--but they are also proud, very proud. What +have I to do with them? Yet I thought I would write and tell you all +about it. Meanwhile Emelia Ivanovitch had been encouraging me with nods +and smiles. He is a good soul, and has promised to recommend me to a +friend of his who lives in Viborskaia Street and lends money. Emelia +declares that this friend will certainly lend me a little; so tomorrow, +beloved, I am going to call upon the gentleman in question.... What do +you think about it? It would be a pity not to obtain a loan. My landlady +is on the point of turning me out of doors, and has refused to allow me +any more board. Also, my boots are wearing through, and have lost every +button--and I do not possess another pair! Could anyone in a government +office display greater shabbiness? It is dreadful, my Barbara--it is +simply dreadful! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 4th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God's sake borrow some money as +soon as you can. I would not ask this help of you were it not for the +situation in which I am placed. Thedora and myself cannot remain any +longer in our present lodgings, for we have been subjected to great +unpleasantness, and you cannot imagine my state of agitation and +dismay. The reason is that this morning we received a visit from an +elderly--almost an old--man whose breast was studded with orders. +Greatly surprised, I asked him what he wanted (for at the moment Thedora +had gone out shopping); whereupon he began to question me as to my +mode of life and occupation, and then, without waiting for an answer, +informed me that he was uncle to the officer of whom you have spoken; +that he was very angry with his nephew for the way in which the latter +had behaved, especially with regard to his slandering of me right and +left; and that he, the uncle, was ready to protect me from the young +spendthrift's insolence. Also, he advised me to have nothing to say to +young fellows of that stamp, and added that he sympathised with me as +though he were my own father, and would gladly help me in any way he +could. At this I blushed in some confusion, but did not greatly hasten +to thank him. Next, he took me forcibly by the hand, and, tapping my +cheek, said that I was very good-looking, and that he greatly liked the +dimples in my face (God only knows what he meant!). Finally he tried to +kiss me, on the plea that he was an old man, the brute! At this moment +Thedora returned; whereupon, in some confusion, he repeated that he felt +a great respect for my modesty and virtue, and that he much wished to +become acquainted with me; after which he took Thedora aside, and tried, +on some pretext or another, to give her money (though of course she +declined it). At last he took himself off--again reiterating his +assurances, and saying that he intended to return with some earrings as +a present; that he advised me to change my lodgings; and, that he could +recommend me a splendid flat which he had in his mind's eye as likely to +cost me nothing. Yes, he also declared that he greatly liked me for my +purity and good sense; that I must beware of dissolute young men; and +that he knew Anna Thedorovna, who had charged him to inform me that she +would shortly be visiting me in person. Upon that, I understood all. +What I did next I scarcely know, for I had never before found myself in +such a position; but I believe that I broke all restraints, and made the +old man feel thoroughly ashamed of himself--Thedora helping me in the +task, and well-nigh turning him neck and crop out of the tenement. +Neither of us doubt that this is Anna Thedorovna's work--for how +otherwise could the old man have got to know about us? + +Now, therefore, Makar Alexievitch, I turn to you for help. Do not, for +God's sake, leave me in this plight. Borrow all the money that you can +get, for I have not the wherewithal to leave these lodgings, yet cannot +possibly remain in them any longer. At all events, this is Thedora's +advice. She and I need at least twenty-five roubles, which I will repay +you out of what I earn by my work, while Thedora shall get me additional +work from day to day, so that, if there be heavy interest to pay on the +loan, you shall not be troubled with the extra burden. Nay, I will make +over to you all that I possess if only you will continue to help me. +Truly, I grieve to have to trouble you when you yourself are so hardly +situated, but my hopes rest upon you, and upon you alone. Goodbye, Makar +Alexievitch. Think of me, and may God speed you on your errand! + +B.D. + + + + +August 4th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--These unlooked-for blows have shaken me +terribly, and these strange calamities have quite broken my spirit. +Not content with trying to bring you to a bed of sickness, these +lickspittles and pestilent old men are trying to bring me to the same. +And I assure you that they are succeeding--I assure you that they are. +Yet I would rather die than not help you. If I cannot help you I SHALL +die; but, to enable me to help you, you must flee like a bird out of the +nest where these owls, these birds of prey, are seeking to peck you to +death. How distressed I feel, my dearest! Yet how cruel you yourself +are! Although you are enduring pain and insult, although you, little +nestling, are in agony of spirit, you actually tell me that it grieves +you to disturb me, and that you will work off your debt to me with the +labour of your own hands! In other words, you, with your weak health, +are proposing to kill yourself in order to relieve me to term of my +financial embarrassments! Stop a moment, and think what you are saying. +WHY should you sew, and work, and torture your poor head with anxiety, +and spoil your beautiful eyes, and ruin your health? Why, indeed? Ah, +little Barbara, little Barbara! Do you not see that I shall never be any +good to you, never any good to you? At all events, I myself see it. Yet +I WILL help you in your distress. I WILL overcome every difficulty, I +WILL get extra work to do, I WILL copy out manuscripts for authors, +I WILL go to the latter and force them to employ me, I WILL so apply +myself to the work that they shall see that I am a good copyist (and +good copyists, I know, are always in demand). Thus there will be no need +for you to exhaust your strength, nor will I allow you to do so--I will +not have you carry out your disastrous intention... Yes, little angel, +I will certainly borrow some money. I would rather die than not do +so. Merely tell me, my own darling, that I am not to shrink from heavy +interest, and I will not shrink from it, I will not shrink from it--nay, +I will shrink from nothing. I will ask for forty roubles, to begin with. +That will not be much, will it, little Barbara? Yet will any one trust +me even with that sum at the first asking? Do you think that I am +capable of inspiring confidence at the first glance? Would the mere +sight of my face lead any one to form of me a favourable opinion? Have I +ever been able, remember you, to appear to anyone in a favourable light? +What think you? Personally, I see difficulties in the way, and feel sick +at heart at the mere prospect. However, of those forty roubles I mean +to set aside twenty-five for yourself, two for my landlady, and the +remainder for my own spending. Of course, I ought to give more than +two to my landlady, but you must remember my necessities, and see for +yourself that that is the most that can be assigned to her. We need say +no more about it. For one rouble I shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for +I scarcely know whether my old ones will take me to the office tomorrow +morning. Also, a new neck-scarf is indispensable, seeing that the old +one has now passed its first year; but, since you have promised to make +of your old apron not only a scarf, but also a shirt-front, I need think +no more of the article in question. So much for shoes and scarves. Next, +for buttons. You yourself will agree that I cannot do without buttons; +nor is there on my garments a single hem unfrayed. I tremble when I +think that some day his Excellency may perceive my untidiness, and +say--well, what will he NOT say? Yet I shall never hear what he says, +for I shall have expired where I sit--expired of mere shame at the +thought of having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest!... Well, my various +necessities will have left me three roubles to go on with. Part of +this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco--for I cannot live +without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put a pipe into my +mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco without acquainting +you with the fact, although I ought not so to do. The pity of it all is +that, while you are depriving yourself of everything, I keep solacing +myself with various amenities--which is why I am telling you this, that +the pangs of conscience may not torment me. Frankly, I confess that I +am in desperate straits--in such straits as I have never yet known. My +landlady flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of noone; my arrears and +debts are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the +place exactly a paradise, noone has a single word to say to me. Yet I +hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide my person in +the same way, were it not that daily I have to attend the office where +I have to be constantly on my guard against my fellows. Nevertheless, +merely to be able to CONFESS this to you renews my spiritual strength. +We must not think of these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them +break our courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of +them, nor to torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my God, what +is to become of us? Stay where you are until I can come to you; after +which I shall not return hither, but simply disappear. Now I have +finished my letter, and must go and shave myself, inasmuch as, when that +is done, one always feels more decent, as well as consorts more easily +with decency. God speed me! One prayer to Him, and I must be off. + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 5th. + +DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--You must not despair. Away with melancholy! +I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret that I cannot send +you more. Buy yourself what you most need until tomorrow. I myself have +almost nothing left, and what I am going to do I know not. Is it not +dreadful, Makar Alexievitch? Yet do not be downcast--it is no good being +that. Thedora declares that it would not be a bad thing if we were to +remain in this tenement, since if we left it suspicions would arise, and +our enemies might take it into their heads to look for us. On the other +hand, I do not think it would be well for us to remain here. If I were +feeling less sad I would tell you my reason. + +What a strange man you are, Makar Alexievitch! You take things so much +to heart that you never know what it is to be happy. I read your letters +attentively, and can see from them that, though you worry and disturb +yourself about me, you never give a thought to yourself. Yes, every +letter tells me that you have a kind heart; but I tell YOU that that +heart is overly kind. So I will give you a little friendly advice, Makar +Alexievitch. I am full of gratitude towards you--I am indeed full for +all that you have done for me, I am most sensible of your goodness; +but, to think that I should be forced to see that, in spite of your own +troubles (of which I have been the involuntary cause), you live for me +alone--you live but for MY joys and MY sorrows and MY affection! If you +take the affairs of another person so to heart, and suffer with her to +such an extent, I do not wonder that you yourself are unhappy. Today, +when you came to see me after office-work was done, I felt afraid even +to raise my eyes to yours, for you looked so pale and desperate, and +your face had so fallen in. Yes, you were dreading to have to tell me +of your failure to borrow money--you were dreading to have to grieve and +alarm me; but, when you saw that I came very near to smiling, the load +was, I know, lifted from your heart. So do not be despondent, do not +give way, but allow more rein to your better sense. I beg and implore +this of you, for it will not be long before you see things take a turn +for the better. You will but spoil your life if you constantly lament +another person's sorrow. Goodbye, dear friend. I beseech you not to be +over-anxious about me. + +B. D. + + + + +August 5th. + +MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,--This is well, this is well, my angel! So you +are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain any money does +not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am happy on your account. +Also, I am delighted to think that you are not going to desert your old +friend, but intend to remain in your present lodgings. Indeed, my heart +was overcharged with joy when I read in your letter those kindly words +about myself, as well as a not wholly unmerited recognition of my +sentiments. I say this not out of pride, but because now I know how much +you love me to be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to +think that I may speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be +faint-hearted. Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for +instance, of the pair of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office +tomorrow! The fact is that over-brooding proves the undoing of a +man--his complete undoing. What has saved me is the fact that it is not +for myself that I am grieving, that I am suffering, but for YOU. Nor +would it matter to me in the least that I should have to walk through +the bitter cold without an overcoat or boots--I could bear it, I could +well endure it, for I am a simple man in my requirements; but the point +is--what would people say, what would every envious and hostile tongue +exclaim, when I was seen without an overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that +one wears an overcoat and boots. In any case, therefore, I should have +needed boots to maintain my name and reputation; to both of which my +ragged footgear would otherwise have spelled ruin. Yes, it is so, +my beloved, and you may believe an old man who has had many years of +experience, and knows both the world and mankind, rather than a set of +scribblers and daubers. + +But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with me +today. During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit as might +have been experienced in a year. 'Twas like this: First of all, I went +out to call upon the gentleman of whom I have spoken. I started very +early, before going to the office. Rain and sleet were falling, and +I hugged myself in my greatcoat as I walked along. "Lord," thought I, +"pardon my offences, and send me fulfilment of all my desires;" and as +I passed a church I crossed myself, repented of my sins, and reminded +myself that I was unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then +I retired into myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking +without noticing the streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything had an +empty air, and everyone whom I met looked careworn and preoccupied, and +no wonder, for who would choose to walk abroad at such an early hour, +and in such weather? Next a band of ragged workmen met me, and jostled +me boorishly as they passed; upon which nervousness overtook me, and +I felt uneasy, and tried hard not to think of the money that was +my errand. Near the Voskresenski Bridge my feet began to ache with +weariness, until I could hardly pull myself along; until presently I met +with Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping aside, halted, and +followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a glass of vodka. "Ah, +friend," thought I, "go YOU to your vodka, but what have I to do with +such stuff?" Then, sadly weary, I halted for a moment's rest, and +thereafter dragged myself further on my way. Purposely I kept looking +about me for something upon which to fasten my thoughts, with which to +distract, to encourage myself; but there was nothing. Not a single idea +could I connect with any given object, while, in addition, my appearance +was so draggled that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I perceived +from afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I thought, +must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia Ivanovitch had +mentioned to me as ready to lend money on interest. Half unconscious +of what I was doing, I asked a watchman if he could tell me to whom the +house belonged; whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed at +something, the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL +watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any case I +felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to like, and, no +matter what position one is in, things invariably appear to correspond +to it. Three times did I pass the house and walk the length of the +street; until the further I walked, the worse became my state of mind. +"No, never, never will he lend me anything!" I thought to myself, "He +does not know me, and my affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I +shall cut a sorry figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let +Heaven send that I do not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart +with remorse!" Softly I opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great ragged +brute of a watch-dog came flying out at me, and foaming at the mouth, +and nearly jumping out his skin! Curious is it to note what little, +trivial incidents will nearly make a man crazy, and strike terror to his +heart, and annihilate the firm purpose with which he has armed himself. +At all events, I approached the house more dead than alive, and walked +straight into another catastrophe. That is to say, not noticing the +slipperiness of the threshold, I stumbled against an old woman who +was filling milk-jugs from a pail, and sent the milk flying in every +direction! The foolish old dame gave a start and a cry, and then +demanded of me whither I had been coming, and what it was I wanted; +after which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I found +something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of this nature. +It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into something. Upon that, +the noise and the commotion brought out the mistress of the house--an +old beldame of mean appearance. I addressed myself directly to her: +"Does Monsieur Markov live here?" was my inquiry. "No," she replied, and +then stood looking at me civilly enough. "But what want you with him?" +she continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and +the rest of the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her +daughter--a barefooted girl in her teens--and told her to summon her +father from upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room which contained +several portraits of generals on the walls and was furnished with a +sofa, a large table, and a few pots of mignonette and balsam. "Shall I, +or shall I not (come weal, come woe) take myself off?" was my thought as +I waited there. Ah, how I longed to run away! "Yes," I continued, "I had +better come again tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I +shall not have upset the milk, and these generals will not be looking at +me so fiercely." In fact, I had actually begun to move towards the door +when Monsieur Markov entered--a grey-headed man with thievish eyes, and +clad in a dirty dressing-gown fastened with a belt. Greetings over, I +stumbled out something about Emelia Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and +then came to a dead halt, for his eyes told me that my errand had been +futile. "No." said he, "I have no money. Moreover, what security +could you offer?" I admitted that I could offer none, but again added +something about Emelia, as well as about my pressing needs. Markov heard +me out, and then repeated that he had no money. "Ah," thought I, "I +might have known this--I might have foreseen it!" And, to tell the +truth, Barbara, I could have wished that the earth had opened under my +feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what he did, so numbed did my +legs grow as shivers began to run down my back. Thus I remained gazing +at him while he returned my gaze with a look which said, "Well now, +my friend? Why do you not go since you have no further business to do +here?" Somehow I felt conscience-stricken. "How is it that you are in +such need of money?" was what he appeared to be asking; whereupon, I +opened my mouth (anything rather than stand there to no purpose at all!) +but found that he was not even listening. "I have no money," again he +said, "or I would lend you some with pleasure." Several times I repeated +that I myself possessed a little, and that I would repay any loan +from him punctually, most punctually, and that he might charge me what +interest he liked, since I would meet it without fail. Yes, at that +moment I remembered our misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered +your half-rouble. "No," said he, "I can lend you nothing without +security," and clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber! + +How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through Viborskaia +Street, to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not know. I only remember +that I felt terribly weary, cold, and starved, and that it was ten +o'clock before I reached the office. Arriving, I tried to clean myself +up a little, but Sniegirev, the porter, said that it was impossible for +me to do so, and that I should only spoil the brush, which belonged to +the Government. Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than +the mat on which they wipe their boots! What is it that will most +surely break me? It is not the want of money, but the LITTLE worries +of life--these whisperings and nods and jeers. Any day his Excellency +himself may round upon me. Ah, dearest, my golden days are gone. Today I +have spent in reading your letters through; and the reading of them has +made me sad. Goodbye, my own, and may the Lord watch over you! + +M. DIEVUSHKIN. + +P.S.--To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half +jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My one +desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come and see +you, dearest. Without fail I will come and see you. + + + + +August 11th. + +O Barbara Alexievna, I am undone--we are both of us undone! Both of +us are lost beyond recall! Everything is ruined--my reputation, my +self-respect, all that I have in the world! And you as much as I. Never +shall we retrieve what we have lost. I--I have brought you to this pass, +for I have become an outcast, my darling. Everywhere I am laughed at +and despised. Even my landlady has taken to abusing me. Today she +overwhelmed me with shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a +hearth-brush. And last night, when I was in Rataziaev's rooms, one of +his friends began to read a scribbled note which I had written to +you, and then inadvertently pulled out of my pocket. Oh beloved, what +laughter there arose at the recital! How those scoundrels mocked and +derided you and myself! I walked up to them and accused Rataziaev of +breaking faith. I said that he had played the traitor. But he only +replied that I had been the betrayer in the case, by indulging in +various amours. "You have kept them very dark though, Mr. Lovelace!" +said he--and now I am known everywhere by this name of "Lovelace." They +know EVERYTHING about us, my darling, EVERYTHING--both about you and +your affairs and about myself; and when today I was for sending Phaldoni +to the bakeshop for something or other, he refused to go, saying that +it was not his business. "But you MUST go," said I. "I will not," he +replied. "You have not paid my mistress what you owe her, so I am not +bound to run your errands." At such an insult from a raw peasant I lost +my temper, and called him a fool; to which he retorted in a similar +vein. Upon this I thought that he must be drunk, and told him so; +whereupon he replied: "WHAT say you that I am? Suppose you yourself go +and sober up, for I know that the other day you went to visit a woman, +and that you got drunk with her on two grivenniks." To such a pass have +things come! I feel ashamed to be seen alive. I am, as it were, a man +proclaimed; I am in a worse plight even than a tramp who has lost his +passport. How misfortunes are heaping themselves upon me! I am lost--I +am lost for ever! + +M. D. + + + + +August 13th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--It is true that misfortune is following +upon misfortune. I myself scarcely know what to do. Yet, no matter how +you may be fairing, you must not look for help from me, for only today I +burned my left hand with the iron! At one and the same moment I dropped +the iron, made a mistake in my work, and burned myself! So now I can no +longer work. Also, these three days past, Thedora has been ailing. +My anxiety is becoming positively torturous. Nevertheless, I send you +thirty kopecks--almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as I +should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. +I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of mine. You +will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today. + +B. D. + + + + +August 14th. + +What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch? Surely you cannot +fear the Lord God as you ought to do? You are not only driving me to +distraction but also ruining yourself with this eternal solicitude for +your reputation. You are a man of honour, nobility of character, and +self-respect, as everyone knows; yet, at any moment, you are ready to +die with shame! Surely you should have more consideration for your grey +hairs. No, the fear of God has departed from you. Thedora has told you +that it is out of my power to render you anymore help. See, therefore, +to what a pass you have brought me! Probably you think it is nothing to +me that you should behave so badly; probably you do not realise what you +have made me suffer. I dare not set foot on the staircase here, for if +I do so I am stared at, and pointed at, and spoken about in the most +horrible manner. Yes, it is even said of me that I am "united to a +drunkard." What a thing to hear! And whenever you are brought home drunk +folk say, "They are carrying in that tchinovnik." THAT is not the proper +way to make me help you. I swear that I MUST leave this place, and go +and get work as a cook or a laundress. It is impossible for me to stay +here. Long ago I wrote and asked you to come and see me, yet you have +not come. Truly my tears and prayers must mean NOTHING to you, Makar +Alexievitch! Whence, too, did you get the money for your debauchery? For +the love of God be more careful of yourself, or you will be ruined. How +shameful, how abominable of you! So the landlady would not admit you +last night, and you spent the night on the doorstep? Oh, I know all +about it. Yet if only you could have seen my agony when I heard the +news!... Come and see me, Makar Alexievitch, and we will once more be +happy together. Yes, we will read together, and talk of old times, and +Thedora shall tell you of her pilgrimages in former days. For God's sake +beloved, do not ruin both yourself and me. I live for you alone; it +is for your sake alone that I am still here. Be your better self once +more--the self which still can remain firm in the face of misfortune. +Poverty is no crime; always remember that. After all, why should we +despair? Our present difficulties will pass away, and God will right +us. Only be brave. I send you two grivenniks for the purchase of some +tobacco or anything else that you need; but, for the love of heaven, do +not spend the money foolishly. Come you and see me soon; come without +fail. Perhaps you may be ashamed to meet me, as you were before, but you +NEED not feel like that--such shame would be misplaced. Only do bring +with you sincere repentance and trust in God, who orders all things for +the best. + +B. D. + + + + +August 19th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,-Yes, I AM ashamed to meet you, my +darling--I AM ashamed. At the same time, what is there in all this? Why +should we not be cheerful again? Why should I mind the soles of my feet +coming through my boots? The sole of one's foot is a mere bagatelle--it +will never be anything but just a base, dirty sole. And shoes do not +matter, either. The Greek sages used to walk about without them, so why +should we coddle ourselves with such things? Yet why, also, should I +be insulted and despised because of them? Tell Thedora that she is a +rubbishy, tiresome, gabbling old woman, as well as an inexpressibly +foolish one. As for my grey hairs, you are quite wrong about them, +inasmuch as I am not such an old man as you think. Emelia sends you +his greeting. You write that you are in great distress, and have been +weeping. Well, I too am in great distress, and have been weeping. Nay, +nay. I wish you the best of health and happiness, even as I am well and +happy myself, so long as I may remain, my darling,--Your friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +August 21st. + +MY DEAR AND KIND BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I feel that I am guilty, I feel +that I have sinned against you. Yet also I feel, from what you say, that +it is no use for me so to feel. Even before I had sinned I felt as I do +now; but I gave way to despair, and the more so as recognised my fault. +Darling, I am not cruel or hardhearted. To rend your little soul would +be the act of a blood-thirsty tiger, whereas I have the heart of a +sheep. You yourself know that I am not addicted to bloodthirstiness, +and therefore that I cannot really be guilty of the fault in question, +seeing that neither my mind nor my heart have participated in it. + +Nor can I understand wherein the guilt lies. To me it is all a mystery. +When you sent me those thirty kopecks, and thereafter those two +grivenniks, my heart sank within me as I looked at the poor little +money. To think that though you had burned your hand, and would soon be +hungry, you could write to me that I was to buy tobacco! What was I to +do? Remorselessly to rob you, an orphan, as any brigand might do? I +felt greatly depressed, dearest. That is to say, persuaded that I should +never do any good with my life, and that I was inferior even to the +sole of my own boot, I took it into my head that it was absurd for me to +aspire at all--rather, that I ought to account myself a disgrace and an +abomination. Once a man has lost his self-respect, and has decided to +abjure his better qualities and human dignity, he falls headlong, and +cannot choose but do so. It is decreed of fate, and therefore I am not +guilty in this respect. + +That evening I went out merely to get a breath of fresh air, but one +thing followed another--the weather was cold, all nature was looking +mournful, and I had fallen in with Emelia. This man had spent everything +that he possessed, and, at the time I met him, had not for two days +tasted a crust of bread. He had tried to raise money by pawning, +but what articles he had for the purpose had been refused by the +pawnbrokers. It was more from sympathy for a fellow-man than from any +liking for the individual that I yielded. That is how the fault arose, +dearest. + +He spoke of you, and I mingled my tears with his. Yes, he is a man +of kind, kind heart--a man of deep feeling. I often feel as he did, +dearest, and, in addition, I know how beholden to you I am. As soon as +ever I got to know you I began both to realise myself and to love you; +for until you came into my life I had been a lonely man--I had been, as +it were, asleep rather than alive. In former days my rascally colleagues +used to tell me that I was unfit even to be seen; in fact, they so +disliked me that at length I began to dislike myself, for, being +frequently told that I was stupid, I began to believe that I really was +so. But the instant that YOU came into my life, you lightened the dark +places in it, you lightened both my heart and my soul. Gradually, I +gained rest of spirit, until I had come to see that I was no worse +than other men, and that, though I had neither style nor brilliancy nor +polish, I was still a MAN as regards my thoughts and feelings. But now, +alas! pursued and scorned of fate, I have again allowed myself to abjure +my own dignity. Oppressed of misfortune, I have lost my courage. Here is +my confession to you, dearest. With tears I beseech you not to inquire +further into the matter, for my heart is breaking, and life has grown +indeed hard and bitter for me--Beloved, I offer you my respect, and +remain ever your faithful friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 3rd. + +The reason why I did not finish my last letter, Makar Alexievitch, was +that I found it so difficult to write. There are moments when I am glad +to be alone--to grieve and repine without any one to share my sorrow: +and those moments are beginning to come upon me with ever-increasing +frequency. Always in my reminiscences I find something which is +inexplicable, yet strongly attractive--so much so that for hours together +I remain insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. Indeed, +in my present life there is not a single impression that I +encounter--pleasant or the reverse--which does not recall to my mind +something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly is this the +case with regard to my childhood, my golden childhood. Yet such moments +always leave me depressed. They render me weak, and exhaust my powers of +fancy; with the result that my health, already not good, grows steadily +worse. + +However, this morning it is a fine, fresh, cloudless day, such as we +seldom get in autumn. The air has revived me and I greet it with joy. +Yet to think that already the fall of the year has come! How I used +to love the country in autumn! Then but a child, I was yet a sensitive +being who loved autumn evenings better than autumn mornings. I remember +how beside our house, at the foot of a hill, there lay a large pond, and +how the pond--I can see it even now!--shone with a broad, level surface +that was as clear as crystal. On still evenings this pond would be at +rest, and not a rustle would disturb the trees which grew on its banks +and overhung the motionless expanse of water. How fresh it used to seem, +yet how cold! The dew would be falling upon the turf, lights would be +beginning to shine forth from the huts on the pond's margin, and the +cattle would be wending their way home. Then quietly I would slip out +of the house to look at my beloved pond, and forget myself in +contemplation. Here and there a fisherman's bundle of brushwood would be +burning at the water's edge, and sending its light far and wide over +the surface. Above, the sky would be of a cold blue colour, save for a +fringe of flame-coloured streaks on the horizon that kept turning ever +paler and paler; and when the moon had come out there would be wafted +through the limpid air the sounds of a frightened bird fluttering, of a +bulrush rubbing against its fellows in the gentle breeze, and of a fish +rising with a splash. Over the dark water there would gather a thin, +transparent mist; and though, in the distance, night would be looming, +and seemingly enveloping the entire horizon, everything closer at hand +would be standing out as though shaped with a chisel--banks, boats, +little islands, and all. Beside the margin a derelict barrel would be +turning over and over in the water; a switch of laburnum, with yellowing +leaves, would go meandering through the reeds; and a belated gull +would flutter up, dive again into the cold depths, rise once more, and +disappear into the mist. How I would watch and listen to these things! +How strangely good they all would seem! But I was a mere infant in those +days--a mere child. + +Yes, truly I loved autumn-tide--the late autumn when the crops are +garnered, and field work is ended, and the evening gatherings in the +huts have begun, and everyone is awaiting winter. Then does everything +become more mysterious, the sky frowns with clouds, yellow leaves strew +the paths at the edge of the naked forest, and the forest itself turns +black and blue--more especially at eventide when damp fog is spreading +and the trees glimmer in the depths like giants, like formless, weird +phantoms. Perhaps one may be out late, and had got separated from one's +companions. Oh horrors! Suddenly one starts and trembles as one seems to +see a strange-looking being peering from out of the darkness of a hollow +tree, while all the while the wind is moaning and rattling and howling +through the forest--moaning with a hungry sound as it strips the leaves +from the bare boughs, and whirls them into the air. High over the +tree-tops, in a widespread, trailing, noisy crew, there fly, with +resounding cries, flocks of birds which seem to darken and overlay the +very heavens. Then a strange feeling comes over one, until one seems to +hear the voice of some one whispering: "Run, run, little child! Do not +be out late, for this place will soon have become dreadful! Run, little +child! Run!" And at the words terror will possess one's soul, and one +will rush and rush until one's breath is spent--until, panting, one has +reached home. + +At home, however, all will look bright and bustling as we children are +set to shell peas or poppies, and the damp twigs crackle in the stove, +and our mother comes to look fondly at our work, and our old nurse, +Iliana, tells us stories of bygone days, or terrible legends concerning +wizards and dead men. At the recital we little ones will press closer +to one another, yet smile as we do so; when suddenly, everyone becomes +silent. Surely somebody has knocked at the door?... But nay, nay; it +is only the sound of Frolovna's spinning-wheel. What shouts of laughter +arise! Later one will be unable to sleep for fear of the strange dreams +which come to visit one; or, if one falls asleep, one will soon wake +again, and, afraid to stir, lie quaking under the coverlet until dawn. +And in the morning, one will arise as fresh as a lark and look at the +window, and see the fields overlaid with hoarfrost, and fine icicles +hanging from the naked branches, and the pond covered over with ice +as thin as paper, and a white steam rising from the surface, and birds +flying overhead with cheerful cries. Next, as the sun rises, he throws +his glittering beams everywhere, and melts the thin, glassy ice until +the whole scene has come to look bright and clear and exhilarating; and +as the fire begins to crackle again in the stove, we sit down to the +tea-urn, while, chilled with the night cold, our black dog, Polkan, will +look in at us through the window, and wag his tail with a cheerful air. +Presently, a peasant will pass the window in his cart bound for +the forest to cut firewood, and the whole party will feel merry and +contented together. Abundant grain lies stored in the byres, and +great stacks of wheat are glowing comfortably in the morning sunlight. +Everyone is quiet and happy, for God has blessed us with a bounteous +harvest, and we know that there will be abundance of food for the +wintertide. Yes, the peasant may rest assured that his family will not +want for aught. Song and dance will arise at night from the village +girls, and on festival days everyone will repair to God's house to thank +Him with grateful tears for what He has done.... Ah, a golden time was +my time of childhood!... + +Carried away by these memories, I could weep like a child. Everything, +everything comes back so clearly to my recollection! The past stands out +so vividly before me! Yet in the present everything looks dim and dark! +How will it all end?--how? Do you know, I have a feeling, a sort of +sure premonition, that I am going to die this coming autumn; for I feel +terribly, oh so terribly ill! Often do I think of death, yet feel that +I should not like to die here and be laid to rest in the soil of St. +Petersburg. Once more I have had to take to my bed, as I did last +spring, for I have never really recovered. Indeed I feel so depressed! +Thedora has gone out for the day, and I am alone. For a long while past +I have been afraid to be left by myself, for I keep fancying that there +is someone else in the room, and that that someone is speaking to me. +Especially do I fancy this when I have gone off into a reverie, and then +suddenly awoken from it, and am feeling bewildered. That is why I have +made this letter such a long one; for, when I am writing, the mood +passes away. Goodbye. I have neither time nor paper left for more, and +must close. Of the money which I saved to buy a new dress and hat, there +remains but a single rouble; but, I am glad that you have been able to +pay your landlady two roubles, for they will keep her tongue quiet for a +time. And you must repair your wardrobe. + +Goodbye once more. I am so tired! Nor can I think why I am growing so +weak--why it is that even the smallest task now wearies me? Even if work +should come my way, how am I to do it? That is what worries me above all +things. + +B. D. + + + + +September 5th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA,--Today I have undergone a variety of experiences. In +the first place, my head has been aching, and towards evening I went out +to get a breath of fresh air along the Fontanka Canal. The weather was +dull and damp, and even by six o'clock, darkness had begun to set in. +True, rain was not actually falling, but only a mist like rain, while +the sky was streaked with masses of trailing cloud. Crowds of people +were hurrying along Naberezhnaia Street, with faces that looked strange +and dejected. There were drunken peasants; snub-nosed old harridans in +slippers; bareheaded artisans; cab drivers; every species of beggar; +boys; a locksmith's apprentice in a striped smock, with lean, emaciated +features which seemed to have been washed in rancid oil; an ex-soldier +who was offering penknives and copper rings for sale; and so on, and +so on. It was the hour when one would expect to meet no other folk than +these. And what a quantity of boats there were on the canal. It made +one wonder how they could all find room there. On every bridge were +old women selling damp gingerbread or withered apples, and every woman +looked as damp and dirty as her wares. In short, the Fontanka is a +saddening spot for a walk, for there is wet granite under one's feet, +and tall, dingy buildings on either side of one, and wet mist below and +wet mist above. Yes, all was dark and gloomy there this evening. + +By the time I had returned to Gorokhovaia Street darkness had fallen +and the lamps had been lit. However, I did not linger long in that +particular spot, for Gorokhovaia Street is too noisy a place. But +what sumptuous shops and stores it contains! Everything sparkles and +glitters, and the windows are full of nothing but bright colours and +materials and hats of different shapes. One might think that they were +decked merely for display; but no,--people buy these things, and give +them to their wives! Yes, it IS a sumptuous place. Hordes of German +hucksters are there, as well as quite respectable traders. And the +quantities of carriages which pass along the street! One marvels that +the pavement can support so many splendid vehicles, with windows like +crystal, linings made of silk and velvet, and lacqueys dressed in +epaulets and wearing swords! Into some of them I glanced, and saw that +they contained ladies of various ages. Perhaps they were princesses and +countesses! Probably at that hour such folk would be hastening to balls +and other gatherings. In fact, it was interesting to be able to look so +closely at a princess or a great lady. They were all very fine. At +all events, I had never before seen such persons as I beheld in those +carriages.... + +Then I thought of you. Ah, my own, my darling, it is often that I think +of you and feel my heart sink. How is it that YOU are so unfortunate, +Barbara? How is it that YOU are so much worse off than other people? In +my eyes you are kind-hearted, beautiful, and clever--why, then, has +such an evil fate fallen to your lot? How comes it that you are left +desolate--you, so good a human being! While to others happiness comes +without an invitation at all? Yes, I know--I know it well--that I ought +not to say it, for to do so savours of free-thought; but why should that +raven, Fate, croak out upon the fortunes of one person while she is yet +in her mother's womb, while another person it permits to go forth in +happiness from the home which has reared her? To even an idiot of +an Ivanushka such happiness is sometimes granted. "You, you fool +Ivanushka," says Fate, "shall succeed to your grandfather's money-bags, +and eat, drink, and be merry; whereas YOU (such and such another one) +shall do no more than lick the dish, since that is all that you are +good for." Yes, I know that it is wrong to hold such opinions, but +involuntarily the sin of so doing grows upon one's soul. Nevertheless, +it is you, my darling, who ought to be riding in one of those carriages. +Generals would have come seeking your favour, and, instead of being +clad in a humble cotton dress, you would have been walking in silken +and golden attire. Then you would not have been thin and wan as now, +but fresh and plump and rosy-cheeked as a figure on a sugar-cake. Then +should I too have been happy--happy if only I could look at your lighted +windows from the street, and watch your shadow--happy if only I could +think that you were well and happy, my sweet little bird! Yet how are +things in reality? Not only have evil folk brought you to ruin, but +there comes also an old rascal of a libertine to insult you! Just +because he struts about in a frockcoat, and can ogle you through a +gold-mounted lorgnette, the brute thinks that everything will fall into +his hands--that you are bound to listen to his insulting condescension! +Out upon him! But why is this? It is because you are an orphan, it is +because you are unprotected, it is because you have no powerful friend +to afford you the decent support which is your due. WHAT do such facts +matter to a man or to men to whom the insulting of an orphan is an +offence allowed? Such fellows are not men at all, but mere vermin, no +matter what they think themselves to be. Of that I am certain. Why, +an organ-grinder whom I met in Gorokhovaia Street would inspire more +respect than they do, for at least he walks about all day, and suffers +hunger--at least he looks for a stray, superfluous groat to earn him +subsistence, and is, therefore, a true gentleman, in that he supports +himself. To beg alms he would be ashamed; and, moreover, he works for +the benefit of mankind just as does a factory machine. "So far as in me +lies," says he, "I will give you pleasure." True, he is a pauper, and +nothing but a pauper; but, at least he is an HONOURABLE pauper. Though +tired and hungry, he still goes on working--working in his own peculiar +fashion, yet still doing honest labour. Yes, many a decent fellow whose +labour may be disproportionate to its utility pulls the forelock to no +one, and begs his bread of no one. I myself resemble that organ-grinder. +That is to say, though not exactly he, I resemble him in this respect, +that I work according to my capabilities, and so far as in me lies. More +could be asked of no one; nor ought I to be adjudged to do more. + +Apropos of the organ-grinder, I may tell you, dearest, that today +I experienced a double misfortune. As I was looking at the grinder, +certain thoughts entered my head and I stood wrapped in a reverie. Some +cabmen also had halted at the spot, as well as a young girl, with a +yet smaller girl who was dressed in rags and tatters. These people had +halted there to listen to the organ-grinder, who was playing in front +of some one's windows. Next, I caught sight of a little urchin of about +ten--a boy who would have been good-looking but for the fact that his +face was pinched and sickly. Almost barefooted, and clad only in a +shirt, he was standing agape to listen to the music--a pitiful childish +figure. Nearer to the grinder a few more urchins were dancing, but +in the case of this lad his hands and feet looked numbed, and he kept +biting the end of his sleeve and shivering. Also, I noticed that in his +hands he had a paper of some sort. Presently a gentleman came by, and +tossed the grinder a small coin, which fell straight into a box adorned +with a representation of a Frenchman and some ladies. The instant he +heard the rattle of the coin, the boy started, looked timidly round, and +evidently made up his mind that I had thrown the money; whereupon, he +ran to me with his little hands all shaking, and said in a tremulous +voice as he proffered me his paper: "Pl-please sign this." I turned over +the paper, and saw that there was written on it what is usual under +such circumstances. "Kind friends I am a sick mother with three hungry +children. Pray help me. Though soon I shall be dead, yet, if you will +not forget my little ones in this world, neither will I forget you in +the world that is to come." The thing seemed clear enough; it was a +matter of life and death. Yet what was I to give the lad? Well, I gave +him nothing. But my heart ached for him. I am certain that, shivering +with cold though he was, and perhaps hungry, the poor lad was not lying. +No, no, he was not lying. + +The shameful point is that so many mothers take no care of their +children, but send them out, half-clad, into the cold. Perhaps this +lad's mother also was a feckless old woman, and devoid of character? Or +perhaps she had no one to work for her, but was forced to sit with her +legs crossed--a veritable invalid? Or perhaps she was just an old rogue +who was in the habit of sending out pinched and hungry boys to deceive +the public? What would such a boy learn from begging letters? His heart +would soon be rendered callous, for, as he ran about begging, people +would pass him by and give him nothing. Yes, their hearts would be as +stone, and their replies rough and harsh. "Away with you!" they would +say. "You are seeking but to trick us." He would hear that from every +one, and his heart would grow hard, and he would shiver in vain with the +cold, like some poor little fledgling that has fallen out of the +nest. His hands and feet would be freezing, and his breath coming with +difficulty; until, look you, he would begin to cough, and disease, like +an unclean parasite, would worm its way into his breast until death +itself had overtaken him--overtaken him in some foetid corner whence +there was no chance of escape. Yes, that is what his life would become. + +There are many such cases. Ah, Barbara, it is hard to hear "For Christ's +sake!" and yet pass the suppliant by and give nothing, or say merely: +"May the Lord give unto you!" Of course, SOME supplications mean +nothing (for supplications differ greatly in character). Occasionally +supplications are long, drawn-out and drawling, stereotyped and +mechanical--they are purely begging supplications. Requests of this kind +it is less hard to refuse, for they are purely professional and of long +standing. "The beggar is overdoing it," one thinks to oneself. "He knows +the trick too well." But there are other supplications which voice a +strange, hoarse, unaccustomed note, like that today when I took the poor +boy's paper. He had been standing by the kerbstone without speaking to +anybody--save that at last to myself he said, "For the love of Christ +give me a groat!" in a voice so hoarse and broken that I started, and +felt a queer sensation in my heart, although I did not give him a groat. +Indeed, I had not a groat on me. Rich folk dislike hearing poor people +complain of their poverty. "They disturb us," they say, "and are +impertinent as well. Why should poverty be so impertinent? Why should +its hungry moans prevent us from sleeping?" + +To tell you the truth, my darling, I have written the foregoing not +merely to relieve my feelings, but, also, still more, to give you an +example of the excellent style in which I can write. You yourself will +recognise that my style was formed long ago, but of late such fits of +despondency have seized upon me that my style has begun to correspond +to my feelings; and though I know that such correspondence gains one +little, it at least renders one a certain justice. For not unfrequently +it happens that, for some reason or another, one feels abased, and +inclined to value oneself at nothing, and to account oneself lower than +a dishclout; but this merely arises from the fact that at the time one +is feeling harassed and depressed, like the poor boy who today asked of +me alms. Let me tell you an allegory, dearest, and do you hearken to it. +Often, as I hasten to the office in the morning, I look around me at +the city--I watch it awaking, getting out of bed, lighting its fires, +cooking its breakfast, and becoming vocal; and at the sight, I begin to +feel smaller, as though some one had dealt me a rap on my inquisitive +nose. Yes, at such times I slink along with a sense of utter humiliation +in my heart. For one would have but to see what is passing within those +great, black, grimy houses of the capital, and to penetrate within +their walls, for one at once to realise what good reason there is for +self-depredation and heart-searching. Of course, you will note that I am +speaking figuratively rather than literally. + +Let us look at what is passing within those houses. In some dingy +corner, perhaps, in some damp kennel which is supposed to be a room, an +artisan has just awakened from sleep. All night he has dreamt--IF such +an insignificant fellow is capable of dreaming?--about the shoes which +last night he mechanically cut out. He is a master-shoemaker, you see, +and therefore able to think of nothing but his one subject of interest. +Nearby are some squalling children and a hungry wife. Nor is he the +only man that has to greet the day in this fashion. Indeed, the incident +would be nothing--it would not be worth writing about, save for another +circumstance. In that same house ANOTHER person--a person of great +wealth-may also have been dreaming of shoes; but, of shoes of a +very different pattern and fashion (in a manner of speaking, if you +understand my metaphor, we are all of us shoemakers). This, again, would +be nothing, were it not that the rich person has no one to whisper in +his ear: "Why dost thou think of such things? Why dost thou think of +thyself alone, and live only for thyself--thou who art not a shoemaker? +THY children are not ailing. THY wife is not hungry. Look around thee. +Can'st thou not find a subject more fitting for thy thoughts than thy +shoes?" That is what I want to say to you in allegorical language, +Barbara. Maybe it savours a little of free-thought, dearest; but, such +ideas WILL keep arising in my mind and finding utterance in impetuous +speech. Why, therefore, should one not value oneself at a groat as one +listens in fear and trembling to the roar and turmoil of the city? Maybe +you think that I am exaggerating things--that this is a mere whim of +mine, or that I am quoting from a book? No, no, Barbara. You may rest +assured that it is not so. Exaggeration I abhor, with whims I have +nothing to do, and of quotation I am guiltless. + +I arrived home today in a melancholy mood. Sitting down to the table, I +had warmed myself some tea, and was about to drink a second glass of it, +when there entered Gorshkov, the poor lodger. Already, this morning, +I had noticed that he was hovering around the other lodgers, and also +seeming to want to speak to myself. In passing I may say that his +circumstances are infinitely worse than my own; for, only think of it, +he has a wife and children! Indeed, if I were he, I do not know what +I should do. Well, he entered my room, and bowed to me with the pus +standing, as usual, in drops on his eyelashes, his feet shuffling about, +and his tongue unable, at first, to articulate a word. I motioned him to +a chair (it was a dilapidated enough one, but I had no other), and asked +him to have a glass of tea. To this he demurred--for quite a long time +he demurred, but at length he accepted the offer. Next, he was for +drinking the tea without sugar, and renewed his excuses, but upon +the sugar I insisted. After long resistance and many refusals, he DID +consent to take some, but only the smallest possible lump; after which, +he assured me that his tea was perfectly sweet. To what depths of +humility can poverty reduce a man! "Well, what is it, my good sir?" I +inquired of him; whereupon he replied: "It is this, Makar Alexievitch. +You have once before been my benefactor. Pray again show me the charity +of God, and assist my unfortunate family. My wife and children have +nothing to eat. To think that a father should have to say this!" I was +about to speak again when he interrupted me. "You see," he continued, +"I am afraid of the other lodgers here. That is to say, I am not so much +afraid of, as ashamed to address them, for they are a proud, conceited +lot of men. Nor would I have troubled even you, my friend and former +benefactor, were it not that I know that you yourself have experienced +misfortune and are in debt; wherefore, I have ventured to come and make +this request of you, in that I know you not only to be kind-hearted, but +also to be in need, and for that reason the more likely to sympathise +with me in my distress." To this he added an apology for his awkwardness +and presumption. I replied that, glad though I should have been to +serve him, I had nothing, absolutely nothing, at my disposal. "Ah, Makar +Alexievitch," he went on, "surely it is not much that I am asking of +you? My-my wife and children are starving. C-could you not afford me +just a grivennik?" At that my heart contracted, "How these people put me +to shame!" thought I. But I had only twenty kopecks left, and upon them +I had been counting for meeting my most pressing requirements. "No, good +sir, I cannot," said I. "Well, what you will," he persisted. "Perhaps +ten kopecks?" Well I got out my cash-box, and gave him the twenty. It +was a good deed. To think that such poverty should exist! Then I had +some further talk with him. "How is it," I asked him, "that, though you +are in such straits, you have hired a room at five roubles?" He replied +that though, when he engaged the room six months ago, he paid three +months' rent in advance, his affairs had subsequently turned out badly, +and never righted themselves since. You see, Barbara, he was sued at +law by a merchant who had defrauded the Treasury in the matter of a +contract. When the fraud was discovered the merchant was prosecuted, but +the transactions in which he had engaged involved Gorshkov, although +the latter had been guilty only of negligence, want of prudence, and +culpable indifference to the Treasury's interests. True, the affair had +taken place some years ago, but various obstacles had since combined +to thwart Gorshkov. "Of the disgrace put upon me," said he to me, "I am +innocent. True, I to a certain extent disobeyed orders, but never did +I commit theft or embezzlement." Nevertheless the affair lost him +his character. He was dismissed the service, and though not adjudged +capitally guilty, has been unable since to recover from the merchant a +large sum of money which is his by right, as spared to him (Gorshkov) +by the legal tribunal. True, the tribunal in question did not altogether +believe in Gorshkov, but I do so. The matter is of a nature so complex +and crooked that probably a hundred years would be insufficient to +unravel it; and, though it has now to a certain extent been cleared up, +the merchant still holds the key to the situation. Personally I side +with Gorshkov, and am very sorry for him. Though lacking a post of any +kind, he still refuses to despair, though his resources are completely +exhausted. Yes, it is a tangled affair, and meanwhile he must live, for, +unfortunately, another child which has been born to him has entailed +upon the family fresh expenses. Also, another of his children recently +fell ill and died--which meant yet further expense. Lastly, not only is +his wife in bad health, but he himself is suffering from a complaint of +long standing. In short, he has had a very great deal to undergo. Yet he +declares that daily he expects a favourable issue to his affair--that he +has no doubt of it whatever. I am terribly sorry for him, and said what +I could to give him comfort, for he is a man who has been much bullied +and misled. He had come to me for protection from his troubles, so I did +my best to soothe him. Now, goodbye, my darling. May Christ watch over +you and preserve your health. Dearest one, even to think of you is like +medicine to my ailing soul. Though I suffer for you, I at least suffer +gladly.--Your true friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 9th. + +MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I am beside myself as I take up my pen, +for a most terrible thing has happened. My head is whirling round. Ah, +beloved, how am I to tell you about it all? I had never foreseen what +has happened. But no--I cannot say that I had NEVER foreseen it, for my +mind DID get an inkling of what was coming, through my seeing something +very similar to it in a dream. + +I will tell you the whole story--simply, and as God may put it into my +heart. Today I went to the office as usual, and, upon arrival, sat down +to write. You must know that I had been engaged on the same sort of +work yesterday, and that, while executing it, I had been approached by +Timothei Ivanovitch with an urgent request for a particular document. +"Makar Alexievitch," he had said, "pray copy this out for me. Copy it +as quickly and as carefully as you can, for it will require to be signed +today." Also let me tell you, dearest, that yesterday I had not been +feeling myself, nor able to look at anything. I had been troubled with +grave depression--my breast had felt chilled, and my head clouded. All +the while I had been thinking of you, my darling. Well, I set to work +upon the copying, and executed it cleanly and well, except for the +fact that, whether the devil confused my mind, or a mysterious fate so +ordained, or the occurrence was simply bound to happen, I left out a +whole line of the document, and thus made nonsense of it! The work had +been given me too late for signature last night, so it went before his +Excellency this morning. I reached the office at my usual hour, and sat +down beside Emelia Ivanovitch. Here I may remark that for a long time +past I have been feeling twice as shy and diffident as I used to do; I +have been finding it impossible to look people in the face. Let only +a chair creak, and I become more dead than alive. Today, therefore, I +crept humbly to my seat and sat down in such a crouching posture that +Efim Akimovitch (the most touchy man in the world) said to me sotto +voce: "What on earth makes you sit like that, Makar Alexievitch?" Then +he pulled such a grimace that everyone near us rocked with laughter at +my expense. I stopped my ears, frowned, and sat without moving, for I +found this the best method of putting a stop to such merriment. All at +once I heard a bustle and a commotion and the sound of someone running +towards us. Did my ears deceive me? It was I who was being summoned in +peremptory tones! My heart started to tremble within me, though I could +not say why. I only know that never in my life before had it trembled +as it did then. Still I clung to my chair--and at that moment was hardly +myself at all. The voices were coming nearer and nearer, until they were +shouting in my ear: "Dievushkin! Dievushkin! Where is Dievushkin?" Then +at length I raised my eyes, and saw before me Evstafi Ivanovitch. He +said to me: "Makar Alexievitch, go at once to his Excellency. You have +made a mistake in a document." That was all, but it was enough, was +it not? I felt dead and cold as ice--I felt absolutely deprived of the +power of sensation; but, I rose from my seat and went whither I had +been bidden. Through one room, through two rooms, through three rooms I +passed, until I was conducted into his Excellency's cabinet itself. Of +my thoughts at that moment I can give no exact account. I merely saw his +Excellency standing before me, with a knot of people around him. I have +an idea that I did not salute him--that I forgot to do so. Indeed, +so panic-stricken was I, that my teeth were chattering and my knees +knocking together. In the first place, I was greatly ashamed of my +appearance (a glance into a mirror on the right had frightened me with +the reflection of myself that it presented), and, in the second place, I +had always been accustomed to comport myself as though no such person +as I existed. Probably his Excellency had never before known that I was +even alive. Of course, he might have heard, in passing, that there was +a man named Dievushkin in his department; but never for a moment had he +had any intercourse with me. + +He began angrily: "What is this you have done, sir? Why are you not +more careful? The document was wanted in a hurry, and you have gone +and spoiled it. What do you think of it?"--the last being addressed +to Evstafi Ivanovitch. More I did not hear, except for some flying +exclamations of "What negligence and carelessness! How awkward this is!" +and so on. I opened my mouth to say something or other; I tried to +beg pardon, but could not. To attempt to leave the room, I had not +the hardihood. Then there happened something the recollection of which +causes the pen to tremble in my hand with shame. A button of mine--the +devil take it!--a button of mine that was hanging by a single thread +suddenly broke off, and hopped and skipped and rattled and rolled until +it had reached the feet of his Excellency himself--this amid a profound +general silence! THAT was what came of my intended self-justification +and plea for mercy! THAT was the only answer that I had to return to my +chief! + +The sequel I shudder to relate. At once his Excellency's attention +became drawn to my figure and costume. I remembered what I had seen +in the mirror, and hastened to pursue the button. Obstinacy of a sort +seized upon me, and I did my best to arrest the thing, but it slipped +away, and kept turning over and over, so that I could not grasp it, and +made a sad spectacle of myself with my awkwardness. Then there came over +me a feeling that my last remaining strength was about to leave me, and +that all, all was lost--reputation, manhood, everything! In both ears I +seemed to hear the voices of Theresa and Phaldoni. At length, however, I +grasped the button, and, raising and straightening myself, stood humbly +with clasped hands--looking a veritable fool! But no. First of all I +tried to attach the button to the ragged threads, and smiled each time +that it broke away from them, and smiled again. In the beginning his +Excellency had turned away, but now he threw me another glance, and I +heard him say to Evstafi Ivanovitch: "What on earth is the matter with +the fellow? Look at the figure he cuts! Who to God is he?" Ah, beloved, +only to hear that, "Who to God is he?" Truly I had made myself a marked +man! In reply to his Excellency Evstafi murmured: "He is no one of any +note, though his character is good. Besides, his salary is sufficient as +the scale goes." "Very well, then; but help him out of his difficulties +somehow," said his Excellency. "Give him a trifle of salary in advance." +"It is all forestalled," was the reply. "He drew it some time ago. But +his record is good. There is nothing against him." At this I felt as +though I were in Hell fire. I could actually have died! "Well, well," +said his Excellency, "let him copy out the document a second time. +Dievushkin, come here. You are to make another copy of this paper, and +to make it as quickly as possible." With that he turned to some +other officials present, issued to them a few orders, and the company +dispersed. No sooner had they done so than his Excellency hurriedly +pulled out a pocket-book, took thence a note for a hundred roubles, and, +with the words, "Take this. It is as much as I can afford. Treat it as +you like," placed the money in my hand! At this, dearest, I started +and trembled, for I was moved to my very soul. What next I did I hardly +know, except that I know that I seized his Excellency by the hand. +But he only grew very red, and then--no, I am not departing by a +hair's-breadth from the truth--it is true--that he took this unworthy +hand in his, and shook it! Yes, he took this hand of mine in his, and +shook it, as though I had been his equal, as though I had been a general +like himself! "Go now," he said. "This is all that I can do for you. +Make no further mistakes, and I will overlook your fault." + +What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and had +I any children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God for his +Excellency. I should say to my children: "For your father you need not +pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until your lives shall +end." Yes, dear one--I tell you this in all solemnity, so hearken well +unto my words--that though, during these cruel days of our adversity, +I have nearly died of distress of soul at the sight of you and your +poverty, as well as at the sight of myself and my abasement and +helplessness, I yet care less for the hundred roubles which his +Excellency has given me than for the fact that he was good enough to +take the hand of a wretched drunkard in his own and press it. By that +act he restored me to myself. By that act he revived my courage, he made +life forever sweet to me.... Yes, sure am I that, sinner though I be +before the Almighty, my prayers for the happiness and prosperity of his +Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly Throne!... + +But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and distraught. +My heart is beating as though it would burst my breast, and all my body +seems weak.... I send you forty-five roubles in notes. Another twenty +I shall give to my landlady, and the remaining thirty-five I shall +keep--twenty for new clothes and fifteen for actual living expenses. But +these experiences of the morning have shaken me to the core, and I +must rest awhile. It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in +jerks--deep down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling.... +I will come and see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching with +these various sensations. God sees all things, my darling, my priceless +treasure!--Your steadfast friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 10th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am unspeakably rejoiced at your good +fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. Now, take +a rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money to no advantage. +Live as quietly and as frugally as possible, and from today begin always +to set aside something, lest misfortune again overtake you. Do not, for +God's sake, worry yourself--Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have +you sent me so much money? I really do not need it--what I had already +would have been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further +funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping before long +to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at least TWENTY roubles +will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but the +remainder shall be returned to you. Pray take care of it, Makar +Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life continue peacefully, and may +you preserve your health and spirits. I would have written to you at +greater length had I not felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left +my bed. I am glad that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you +MUST pay me a visit. + +B. D. + + + + +September 11th. + +MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I implore you not to leave me now that +I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora says, and I +will do anything in the world for you. I will behave myself better, even +if only out of respect for his Excellency, and guard my every action. +Once more we will exchange cheerful letters with one another, and make +mutual confidence of our thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that +we shall know any more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily +and comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books.... Angel of my +heart, a great change has taken place in my fortunes--a change very much +for the better. My landlady has become more accommodating; Theresa has +recovered her senses; even Phaldoni springs to do my bidding. Likewise, +I have made my peace with Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own +accord, the moment that he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt +that he is a good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that +one hears of him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had +any intention of putting me and yourself into a book. This he told me +himself, and then read to me his latest work. As for his calling me +"Lovelace," he had intended no rudeness or indecency thereby. The term +is merely one of foreign derivation, meaning a clever fellow, or, in +more literary and elegant language, a gentleman with whom one must +reckon. That is all; it was a mere harmless jest, my beloved. Only +ignorance made me lose my temper, and I have expressed to him my +regret.... How beautiful is the weather today, my little Barbara! True, +there was a slight frost in the early morning, as though scattered +through a sieve, but it was nothing, and the breeze soon freshened the +air. I went out to buy some shoes, and obtained a splendid pair. Then, +after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read "The Daily Bee". This +reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important thing of +all. It happened like this: + +This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti +Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the only +person to whom he has acted kindly and been charitable, for he is known +to the whole world for his goodness of heart. In many quarters his +praises are to be heard; in many quarters he has called forth tears +of gratitude. Among other things, he undertook the care of an orphaned +girl, and married her to an official, the son of a poor widow, and found +this man place in a certain chancellory, and in other ways benefited +him. Well, dearest, I considered it to be my duty to add my mite by +publishing abroad the story of his Excellency's gracious treatment of +myself. Accordingly, I related the whole occurrence to my interlocutors, +and concealed not a single detail. In fact, I put my pride into my +pocket--though why should I feel ashamed of having been elated by such +an occurrence? "Let it only be noised afield," said I to myself, and it +will resound greatly to his Excellency's credit.--So I expressed myself +enthusiastically on the subject and never faltered. On the contrary, +I felt proud to have such a story to tell. I referred to every one +concerned (except to yourself, of course, dearest)--to my landlady, to +Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my +shoes! Some of those standing by laughed--in fact every one present did +so, but probably it was my own figure or the incident of my shoes--more +particularly the latter--that excited merriment, for I am sure it was +not meant ill-naturedly. My hearers may have been young men, or well +off; certainly they cannot have been laughing with evil intent at what +I had said. Anything against his Excellency CANNOT have been in their +thoughts. Eh, Barbara? + +Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by recent +events.... Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? You must not expose +yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my spirits with your fears +for the future. Daily I pray to God on your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray +to Him!... Likewise, have you any woollen stockings to wear, and warm +clothes generally? Mind you, if there is anything you need, you must +not hurt an old man's feelings by failing to apply to him for what you +require. The bad times are gone now, and the future is looking bright +and fair. + +But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, and +can no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually recover +ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days I never had +a kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, I was always +light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the Nevski Prospect, and meet +nice-looking people, and be happy all day. Yes, it was a glorious, a +glorious time! It was good to be alive, especially in St. Petersburg. +Yet it is but yesterday that I was beseeching God with tears to pardon +me my sins during the late sorrowful period--to pardon me my murmurings +and evil thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in +my prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you alone +have given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget that, +dearest. Today I gave each one of your letters a kiss.... Goodbye, +beloved. I have been told that there is going to be a sale of clothing +somewhere in this neighbourhood. Once more goodbye, goodbye, my +angel--Yours in heart and soul, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 15th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am in terrible distress. I feel sure +that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved friend, is +that Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for Thedora has met +him. He was driving along in a drozhki, but, on meeting Thedora, he +ordered the coachman to stop, sprang out, and inquired of her where she +was living; but this she would not tell him. Next, he said with a +smile that he knew quite well who was living with her (evidently Anna +Thedorovna had told him); whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer, +but then and there, in the street, railed at and abused him--telling him +that he was an immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To +this he replied that a person who did not possess a groat must surely be +rather badly off; to which Thedora retorted that I could always either +live by the labour of my hands or marry--that it was not so much a +question of my losing posts as of my losing my happiness, the ruin of +which had led almost to my death. In reply he observed that, though +I was still quite young, I seemed to have lost my wits, and that my +"virtue appeared to be under a cloud" (I quote his exact words). Both +I and Thedora had thought that he does not know where I live; but, +last night, just as I had left the house to make a few purchases in the +Gostinni Dvor, he appeared at our rooms (evidently he had not wanted to +find me at home), and put many questions to Thedora concerning our way +of living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up with: "Who is +this tchinovnik friend of yours?" At the moment you happened to be +passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and the man +peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to depart--telling +him that I was still ill from grief, and that it would give me great +pain to see him there; to which, after a pause, he replied that he had +come because he had had nothing better to do. Also, he was for giving +Thedora twenty-five roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What +does it all mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his +getting to know about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however, +says that Aksinia, her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her), +is acquainted with a laundress named Nastasia, and that this woman has +a cousin in the position of watchman to a department of which a certain +friend of Anna Thedorovna's nephew forms one of the staff. Can it be, +therefore, that an intrigue has been hatched through THIS channel? But +Thedora may be entirely mistaken. We hardly know what to think. What if +he should come again? The very thought terrifies me. When Thedora told +me of this last night such terror seized upon me that I almost swooned +away. What can the man be wanting? At all events, I refuse to know such +people. What have they to do with my wretched self? Ah, how I am haunted +with anxiety, for every moment I keep thinking that Bwikov is at hand! +WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has fate in store for me? For Christ's +sake come and see me, Makar Alexievitch! For Christ's sake come and see +me soon! + + + + +September 18th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today there took place in this house +a most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence. +First of all, let me tell you that poor Gorshkov has been entirely +absolved of guilt. The decision has been long in coming, but this +morning he went to hear the final resolution read. It was entirely in +his favour. Any culpability which had been imputed to him for negligence +and irregularity was removed by the resolution. Likewise, he was +authorised to recover of the merchant a large sum of money. Thus, he +stands entirely justified, and has had his character cleansed from +all stain. In short, he could not have wished for a more complete +vindication. When he arrived home at three o'clock he was looking as +white as a sheet, and his lips were quivering. Yet there was a smile on +his face as he embraced his wife and children. In a body the rest of us +ran to congratulate him, and he was greatly moved by the act. Bowing to +us, he pressed our hands in turn. As he did so I thought, somehow, that +he seemed to have grown taller and straighter, and that the pus-drops +seemed to have disappeared from his eyelashes. Yet how agitated he was, +poor fellow! He could not rest quietly for two minutes together, but +kept picking up and then dropping whatsoever came to his hand, and +bowing and smiling without intermission, and sitting down and getting +up, and again sitting down, and chattering God only knows what about his +honour and his good name and his little ones. How he did talk--yes, and +weep too! Indeed, few of ourselves could refrain from tears; although +Rataziaev remarked (probably to encourage Gorshkov) that honour mattered +nothing when one had nothing to eat, and that money was the chief thing +in the world, and that for it alone ought God to be thanked. Then he +slapped Gorshkov on the shoulder, but I thought that Gorshkov somehow +seemed hurt at this. He did not express any open displeasure, but threw +Rataziaev a curious look, and removed his hand from his shoulder. ONCE +upon a time he would not have acted thus; but characters differ. For +example, I myself should have hesitated, at such a season of rejoicing, +to seem proud, even though excessive deference and civility at such a +moment might have been construed as a lapse both of moral courage and of +mental vigour. However, this is none of my business. All that Gorshkov +said was: "Yes, money IS a good thing, glory be to God!" In fact, the +whole time that we remained in his room he kept repeating to himself: +"Glory be to God, glory be to God!" His wife ordered a richer and more +delicate meal than usual, and the landlady herself cooked it, for at +heart she is not a bad woman. But until the meal was served Gorshkov +could not remain still. He kept entering everyone's room in turn +(whether invited thither or not), and, seating himself smilingly upon +a chair, would sometimes say something, and sometimes not utter a word, +but get up and go out again. In the naval officer's room he even took a +pack of playing-cards into his hand, and was thereupon invited to make +a fourth in a game; but after losing a few times, as well as making +several blunders in his play, he abandoned the pursuit. "No," said he, +"that is the sort of man that I am--that is all that I am good for," and +departed. Next, encountering myself in the corridor, he took my hands in +his, and gazed into my face with a rather curious air. Then he pressed +my hands again, and moved away still smiling, smiling, but in an odd, +weary sort of manner, much as a corpse might smile. Meanwhile his wife +was weeping for joy, and everything in their room was decked in holiday +guise. Presently dinner was served, and after they had dined Gorshkov +said to his wife: "See now, dearest, I am going to rest a little while;" +and with that went to bed. Presently he called his little daughter to +his side, and, laying his hand upon the child's head, lay a long while +looking at her. Then he turned to his wife again, and asked her: "What +of Petinka? Where is our Petinka?" whereupon his wife crossed herself, +and replied: "Why, our Petinka is dead!" "Yes, yes, I know--of course," +said her husband. "Petinka is now in the Kingdom of Heaven." This showed +his wife that her husband was not quite in his right senses--that the +recent occurrence had upset him; so she said: "My dearest, you must +sleep awhile." "I will do so," he replied, "--at once--I am rather--" +And he turned over, and lay silent for a time. Then again he turned +round and tried to say something, but his wife could not hear what it +was. "What do you say?" she inquired, but he made no reply. Then again +she waited a few moments until she thought to herself, "He has gone to +sleep," and departed to spend an hour with the landlady. At the end +of that hour she returned--only to find that her husband had not yet +awoken, but was still lying motionless. "He is sleeping very soundly," +she reflected as she sat down and began to work at something or other. +Since then she has told us that when half an hour or so had elapsed she +fell into a reverie. What she was thinking of she cannot remember, save +that she had forgotten altogether about her husband. Then she awoke with +a curious sort of sensation at her heart. The first thing that struck +her was the deathlike stillness of the room. Glancing at the bed, +she perceived her husband to be lying in the same position as before. +Thereupon she approached him, turned the coverlet back, and saw that he +was stiff and cold--that he had died suddenly, as though smitten with a +stroke. But of what precisely he died God only knows. The affair has so +terribly impressed me that even now I cannot fully collect my +thoughts. It would scarcely be believed that a human being could die so +simply--and he such a poor, needy wretch, this Gorshkov! What a +fate, what a fate, to be sure! His wife is plunged in tears and +panic-stricken, while his little daughter has run away somewhere to hide +herself. In their room, however, all is bustle and confusion, for the +doctors are about to make an autopsy on the corpse. But I cannot +tell you things for certain; I only know that I am most grieved, most +grieved. How sad to think that one never knows what even a day, +what even an hour, may bring forth! One seems to die to so little +purpose!--Your own + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 19th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to let you know that Rataziaev +has found me some work to do for a certain writer--the latter having +submitted to him a large manuscript. Glory be to God, for this means a +large amount of work to do. Yet, though the copy is wanted in haste, the +original is so carelessly written that I hardly know how to set about my +task. Indeed, certain parts of the manuscript are almost undecipherable. +I have agreed to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. You see +therefore (and this is my true reason for writing to you), that we shall +soon be receiving money from an extraneous source. Goodbye now, as I +must begin upon my labours.--Your sincere friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 23rd. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I have not written to you these three +days past for the reason that I have been so worried and alarmed. + +Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me. At the time I was alone, for +Thedora had gone out somewhere. As soon as I opened the door the sight +of him so terrified me that I stood rooted to the spot, and could feel +myself turning pale. Entering with his usual loud laugh, he took a +chair, and sat down. For a long while I could not collect my thoughts; +I just sat where I was, and went on with my work. Soon his smile faded, +for my appearance seemed somehow to have struck him. You see, of late I +have grown thin, and my eyes and cheeks have fallen in, and my face has +become as white as a sheet; so that anyone who knew me a year ago would +scarcely recognise me now. After a prolonged inspection, Bwikov seemed +to recover his spirits, for he said something to which I duly replied. +Then again he laughed. Thus he sat for a whole hour--talking to me the +while, and asking me questions about one thing and another. At length, +just before he rose to depart, he took me by the hand, and said (to +quote his exact words): "Between ourselves, Barbara Alexievna, that +kinswoman of yours and my good friend and acquaintance--I refer to +Anna Thedorovna--is a very bad woman," (he also added a grosser term +of opprobrium). "First of all she led your cousin astray, and then she +ruined yourself. I also have behaved like a villain, but such is the way +of the world." Again he laughed. Next, having remarked that, though +not a master of eloquence, he had always considered that obligations of +gentility obliged him to have with me a clear and outspoken explanation, +he went on to say that he sought my hand in marriage; that he looked +upon it as a duty to restore to me my honour; that he could offer me +riches; that, after marriage, he would take me to his country seat in +the Steppes, where we would hunt hares; that he intended never to visit +St. Petersburg again, since everything there was horrible, and he had to +entertain a worthless nephew whom he had sworn to disinherit in favour +of a legal heir; and, finally, that it was to obtain such a legal heir +that he was seeking my hand in marriage. Lastly, he remarked that +I seemed to be living in very poor circumstances (which was not +surprising, said he, in view of the kennel that I inhabited); that I +should die if I remained a month longer in that den; that all lodgings +in St. Petersburg were detestable; and that he would be glad to know if +I was in want of anything. + +So thunderstruck was I with the proposal that I could only burst into +tears. These tears he interpreted as a sign of gratitude, for he told +me that he had always felt assured of my good sense, cleverness, and +sensibility, but that hitherto he had hesitated to take this step until +he should have learned precisely how I was getting on. Next he asked me +some questions about YOU; saying that he had heard of you as a man of +good principle, and that since he was unwilling to remain your debtor, +would a sum of five hundred roubles repay you for all you had done for +me? To this I replied that your services to myself had been such as +could never be requited with money; whereupon, he exclaimed that I was +talking rubbish and nonsense; that evidently I was still young enough to +read poetry; that romances of this kind were the undoing of young girls, +that books only corrupted morality, and that, for his part, he could not +abide them. "You ought to live as long as I have done," he added, "and +THEN you will see what men can be." + +With that he requested me to give his proposal my favourable +consideration--saying that he would not like me to take such an +important step unguardedly, since want of thought and impetuosity often +spelt ruin to youthful inexperience, but that he hoped to receive an +answer in the affirmative. "Otherwise," said he, "I shall have no choice +but to marry a certain merchant's daughter in Moscow, in order that +I may keep my vow to deprive my nephew of the inheritance."--Then he +pressed five hundred roubles into my hand--to buy myself some bonbons, +as he phrased it--and wound up by saying that in the country I should +grow as fat as a doughnut or a cheese rolled in butter; that at the +present moment he was extremely busy; and that, deeply engaged in +business though he had been all day, he had snatched the present +opportunity of paying me a visit. At length he departed. + +For a long time I sat plunged in reflection. Great though my distress +of mind was, I soon arrived at a decision.... My friend, I am going to +marry this man; I have no choice but to accept his proposal. If anyone +could save me from this squalor, and restore to me my good name, and +avert from me future poverty and want and misfortune, he is the man to +do it. What else have I to look for from the future? What more am I to +ask of fate? Thedora declares that one need NEVER lose one's happiness; +but what, I ask HER, can be called happiness under such circumstances as +mine? At all events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing +else to be done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot +go on working forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am worn to +a shadow with grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly by nature, I +should merely be a burden upon other folks. Of course this marriage will +not bring me paradise, but what else does there remain, my friend--what +else does there remain? What other choice is left? + +I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted to +think the matter over alone. However, the decision which you have just +read is unalterable, and I am about to announce it to Bwikov himself, +who in any case has pressed me for a speedy reply, owing to the fact (so +he says) that his business will not wait nor allow him to remain here +longer, and that therefore, no trifle must be allowed to stand in its +way. God alone knows whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His +holy, His inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be +kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be +able to return that respect. What more could be looked for from such a +marriage? + +I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that you will +understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to divert me from my +intention, for all your efforts will be in vain. Think for a moment; +weigh in your heart for a moment all that has led me to take this step. +At first my anguish was extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I +know not. What must be must be, and as God may send.... + +Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished. +Otherwise I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at the +door!... + + + + +September 23rd. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to reply to you--I hasten to +express to you my extreme astonishment.... In passing, I may mention +that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov.... + +Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly, and you have no choice but to accept him. +All things are in God's hands. This is so, and must always be so; and +the purposes of the Divine Creator are at once good and inscrutable, as +also is Fate, which is one with Him.... + +Thedora will share your happiness--for, of course, you will be happy, +and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! But why should +the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course--Monsieur Bwikov's business +affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see to can afford to disregard +such things. I got a glimpse of Monsieur Bwikov as he was leaving your +door. He is a fine-looking man--a very fine-looking man; though that is +not the point that I should most have noticed had I been quite myself at +the time.... + +In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I keep +wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you have said. +To think that just when twenty pages of my copying are completed THIS +has happened!... I suppose you will be able to make many purchases +now--to buy shoes and dresses and all sorts of things? Do you remember +the shops in Gorokhovaia Street of which I used to speak?... + +But no. You ought not to go out at present--you simply ought not to, and +shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many things, and to, +keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is bad. Rain is descending +in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking kind of rain that--that you might +catch cold from it, my darling, and the chill might go to your heart. +Why should your fear of this man lead you to take such risks when +all the time I am here to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great +happiness to be awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman, +and evidently desires to ruin you. + +Shall you be at the all-night Mass this evening, dearest? I should like +to come and see you there. Yes, Bwikov spoke but the truth when he said +that you are a woman of virtue, wit, and good feeling. Yet I think he +would do far better to marry the merchant's daughter. What think YOU +about it? Yes, 'twould be far better for him. As soon as it grows dark +tonight I mean to come and sit with you for an hour. Tonight twilight +will close in early, so I shall soon be with you. Yes, come what may, +I mean to see you for an hour. At present, I suppose, you are expecting +Bwikov, but I will come as soon as he has gone. So stay at home until I +have arrived, dearest. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 27th. + +DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Bwikov has just informed me that I must have +at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and look for +sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since time presses. +Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the fuss which these +fripperies are entailing, seeing that there remain but five days before +the wedding, and we are to depart on the following day. He keeps rushing +about and declaring that no time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am +terribly worried, and scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is +so much to do, and, perhaps, so much that were better left undone! +Moreover, I have no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be +purchased, since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look +like a cook, but, on the contrary, she must "put the noses of the great +ladies out of joint." That is his expression. I wish, therefore, that +you would go to Madame Chiffon's, in Gorokhovaia Street, and ask her, in +the first place, to send me some sempstresses, and, in the second place, +to give herself the trouble of coming in person, as I am too ill to +go out. Our new flat is very cold, and still in great disorder. Also, +Bwikov has an aunt who is at her last gasp through old age, and may die +before our departure. He himself, however, declares this to be nothing, +and says that she will soon recover. He is not yet living with me, and +I have to go running hither and thither to find him. Only Thedora +is acting as my servant, together with Bwikov's valet, who oversees +everything, but has been absent for the past three days. + +Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. Yesterday +he even had some trouble with the police because of his thrashing the +steward of these buildings... I have no one to send with this letter so +I am going to post it... Ah! I had almost forgotten the most important +point--which is that I should like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon +that I wish the blond lace to be changed in conformity with yesterday's +patterns, if she will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment. +Also say that I have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to +be tamboured with crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used with +monograms on the various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not smooth +work. Do not forget that it is to be tambour. Another thing I had almost +forgotten, which is that the lappets of the fur cloak must be raised, +and the collar bound with lace. Please tell her these things, Makar +Alexievitch.--Your friend, + +B. D. + +P.S.--I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is the +third morning that you will have spent in running about for my sake. But +what else am I to do? The whole place is in disorder, and I myself +am ill. Do not be vexed with me, Makar Alexievitch. I am feeling so +depressed! What is going to become of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old +Makar Alexievitch? I dread to look forward into the future. Somehow I +feel apprehensive; I am living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God's +sake, forget none of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make +a mistake! Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth. + + + + +September 27th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have carefully fulfilled your +commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had thought of +using tambour work as being more suitable (though I did not quite take +in all she said). Also, she has informed me that, since you have given +certain directions in writing, she has followed them (though again I do +not clearly remember all that she said--I only remember that she said +a very great deal, for she is a most tiresome old woman). These +observations she will soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I +feel absolutely exhausted, and have not been to the office today... + +Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I would +visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare not look +forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven o'clock, you will have +learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have arrived in person to see you. +Hope on, and everything will order itself for the best. Of course, I +am referring only to these accursed gewgaws, to these frills and +fripperies! Ah me, ah me, how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes, +how glad I shall be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your +abode. Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that--Well, +things are as they are. + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 28th. + +MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God's sake go to the jeweller's, +and tell him that, after all, he need not make the pearl and emerald +earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will cost him too much, that +they will burn a veritable hole in his pocket. In fact, he has lost his +temper again, and declares that he is being robbed. Yesterday he added +that, had he but known, but foreseen, these expenses, he would never +have married. Also, he says that, as things are, he intends only to have +a plain wedding, and then to depart. "You must not look for any dancing +or festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are still in +the air." Such were his words. God knows I do not want such things, but +none the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made him no answer on the +subject, for he is a man all too easily irritated. What, what is going +to become of me? + +B. D. + + + + +September 28th. + +MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--All is well as regards the jeweller. +Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have fallen ill, and +cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things need to be done, I have +gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! Also I have to tell you +that, to complete my misfortunes, his Excellency has been pleased to +become stricter. Today he railed at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until +the poor fellow was quite put about. That is the sum of my news. + +No--there is something else concerning which I should like to write +to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a simple, +dull fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head--Your +friend, + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 29th. + +MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who informed +me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the following day to go +away--for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a post-chaise.... + +Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. Also +I have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia Street. It is +correct, but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so out of humour with +you? Nay, but you must be of good cheer, my darling. I am so, and shall +always be so, so long as you are happy. I should have come to the church +tomorrow, but, alas, shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my +loins. Also, I would have written an account of the ceremony, but that +there will be no one to report to me the details.... + +Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You have +acted kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed God will +bless you. Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does virtue ever fail to +win the crown of divine justice, be it early or be it late. Much else +should I have liked to write to you. Every hour, every minute I could +occupy in writing. Indeed I could write to you forever! Only your book, +"The Stories of Bielkin", is left to me. Do not deprive me of it, I pray +you, but suffer me to keep it. It is not so much because I wish to read +the book for its own sake, as because winter is coming on, when the +evenings will be long and dreary, and one will want to read at least +SOMETHING. + +Do you know, I am going to move from my present quarters into your old +ones, which I intend to rent from Thedora; for I could never part with +that good old woman. Moreover, she is such a splendid worker. +Yesterday I inspected your empty room in detail, and inspected your +embroidery-frame, with the work still hanging on it. It had been left +untouched in its corner. Next, I inspected the work itself, of which +there still remained a few remnants, and saw that you had used one of my +letters for a spool upon which to wind your thread. Also, on the table +I found a scrap of paper which had written on it, "My dearest Makar +Alexievitch I hasten to--" that was all. Evidently, someone had +interrupted you at an interesting point. Lastly, behind a screen there +was your little bed.... Oh darling of darlings!!!... Well, goodbye now, +goodbye now, but for God's sake send me something in answer to this +letter! + +MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN. + + + + +September 30th. + +MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--All is over! The die is cast! What my lot +may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the will of God. +Tomorrow, then, we depart. For the last time, I take my leave of you, my +friend beyond price, my benefactor, my dear one! Do not grieve for me, +but try to live happily. Think of me sometimes, and may the blessing +of Almighty God light upon you! For myself, I shall often have you in +remembrance, and recall you in my prayers. Thus our time together +has come to an end. Little comfort in my new life shall I derive +from memories of the past. The more, therefore, shall I cherish the +recollection of you, and the dearer will you ever be to my heart. Here, +you have been my only friend; here, you alone have loved me. Yes, I have +seen all, I have known all--I have throughout known how well you love +me. A single smile of mine, a single stroke from my pen, has been able +to make you happy.... But now you must forget me.... How lonely you will +be! Why should you stay here at all, kind, inestimable, but solitary, +friend of mine? + +To your care I entrust the book, the embroidery frame, and the letter +upon which I had begun. When you look upon the few words which the +letter contains you will be able mentally to read in thought all that +you would have liked further to hear or receive from me--all that I +would so gladly have written, but can never now write. Think sometimes +of your poor little Barbara who loved you so well. All your letters I +have left behind me in the top drawer of Thedora's chest of drawers... +You write that you are ill, but Monsieur Bwikov will not let me leave +the house today; so that I can only write to you. Also, I will write +again before long. That is a promise. Yet God only knows when I shall be +able to do so.... + +Now we must bid one another forever farewell, my friend, my beloved, +my own! Yes, it must be forever! Ah, how at this moment I could embrace +you! Goodbye, dear friend--goodbye, goodbye! May you ever rest well and +happy! To the end I shall keep you in my prayers. How my heart is +aching under its load of sorrow!... Monsieur Bwikov is just calling for +me....--Your ever loving + +B. + +P.S.--My heart is full! It is full to bursting of tears! Sorrow has me +in its grip, and is tearing me to pieces. Goodbye. My God, what grief! +Do not, do not forget your poor Barbara! + + + +BELOVED BARBARA--MY JEWEL, MY PRICELESS ONE,--You are now almost en +route, you are now just about to depart! Would that they had torn my +heart out of my breast rather than have taken you away from me! How +could you allow it? You weep, yet you go! And only this moment I have +received from you a letter stained with your tears! It must be that +you are departing unwillingly; it must be that you are being abducted +against your will; it must be that you are sorry for me; it must be +that--that you LOVE me!... + +Yet how will it fare with you now? Your heart will soon have become +chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon have sucked away its +life; grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, you will die where you +be, and be laid to rest in the cold, moist earth where there is no one +to bewail you. Monsieur Bwikov will only be hunting hares!... + +Ah, my darling, my darling! WHY did you come to this decision? How could +you bring yourself to take such a step? What have you done, have you +done, have you done? Soon they will be carrying you away to the tomb; +soon your beauty will have become defiled, my angel. Ah, dearest one, +you are as weak as a feather. And where have I been all this time? What +have I been thinking of? I have treated you merely as a forward child +whose head was aching. Fool that I was, I neither saw nor understood. +I have behaved as though, right or wrong, the matter was in no way my +concern. Yes, I have been running about after fripperies!... Ah, but I +WILL leave my bed. Tomorrow I WILL rise sound and well, and be once more +myself.... + +Dearest, I could throw myself under the wheels of a passing vehicle +rather than that you should go like this. By what right is it being +done?... I will go with you; I will run behind your carriage if you will +not take me--yes, I will run, and run so long as the power is in me, and +until my breath shall have failed. Do you know whither you are going? +Perhaps you will not know, and will have to ask me? Before you there +lie the Steppes, my darling--only the Steppes, the naked Steppes, the +Steppes that are as bare as the palm of my hand. THERE there live only +heartless old women and rude peasants and drunkards. THERE the trees +have already shed their leaves. THERE there abide but rain and cold. Why +should you go thither? True, Monsieur Bwikov will have his diversions in +that country--he will be able to hunt the hare; but what of yourself? Do +you wish to become a mere estate lady? Nay; look at yourself, my seraph +of heaven. Are you in any way fitted for such a role? How could you +play it? To whom should I write letters? To whom should I send these +missives? Whom should I call "my darling"? To whom should I apply that +name of endearment? Where, too, could I find you? + +When you are gone, Barbara, I shall die--for certain I shall die, for my +heart cannot bear this misery. I love you as I love the light of God; +I love you as my own daughter; to you I have devoted my love in its +entirety; only for you have I lived at all; only because you were near +me have I worked and copied manuscripts and committed my views to paper +under the guise of friendly letters. + +Perhaps you did not know all this, but it has been so. How, then, my +beloved, could you bring yourself to leave me? Nay, you MUST not go--it +is impossible, it is sheerly, it is utterly, impossible. The rain will +fall upon you, and you are weak, and will catch cold. The floods will +stop your carriage. No sooner will it have passed the city barriers than +it will break down, purposely break down. Here, in St. Petersburg, they +are bad builders of carriages. Yes, I know well these carriage-builders. +They are jerry-builders who can fashion a toy, but nothing that is +durable. Yes, I swear they can make nothing that is durable.... All that +I can do is to go upon my knees before Monsieur Bwikov, and to tell him +all, to tell him all. Do you also tell him all, dearest, and reason with +him. Tell him that you MUST remain here, and must not go. Ah, why did he +not marry that merchant's daughter in Moscow? Let him go and marry her +now. She would suit him far better and for reasons which I well know. +Then I could keep you. For what is he to you, this Monsieur Bwikov? Why +has he suddenly become so dear to your heart? Is it because he can buy +you gewgaws? What are THEY? What use are THEY? They are so much rubbish. +One should consider human life rather than mere finery. + +Nevertheless, as soon as I have received my next instalment of salary I +mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to buy it at a shop with which I +am acquainted. Only, you must wait until my next installment is due, my +angel of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To think that you are going away +into the Steppes with Monsieur Bwikov--that you are going away never +to return!... Nay, nay, but you SHALL write to me. You SHALL write me +a letter as soon as you have started, even if it be your last letter of +all, my dearest. Yet will it be your last letter? How has it come about +so suddenly, so irrevocably, that this letter should be your last? Nay, +nay; I will write, and you shall write--yes, NOW, when at length I am +beginning to improve my style. Style? I do not know what I am writing. I +never do know what I am writing. I could not possibly know, for I never +read over what I have written, nor correct its orthography. At the +present moment, I am writing merely for the sake of writing, and to put +as much as possible into this last letter of mine.... + +Ah, dearest, my pet, my own darling!... + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POOR FOLK *** + +***** This file should be named 2302.txt or 2302.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2302/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/old/2302.zip b/old/2302.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..649c379 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2302.zip |