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,