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,