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,