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!