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