VILLAGE OF X----, _June_ 30, 1840.
How grateful I am to you for your letter, Alexey Petrovitch! How much
good it did me! I see you really are a good and trustworthy man, and so
I shall not be reserved with you. I trust you. I know you would make no
unkind use of my openness, and will give me friendly counsel. Here is
the question.
You noticed at the end of my letter a phrase which you did not quite
like. I will tell what it had reference to. There is one of the
neighbours here ... he was not here when you were, and you have not
seen him. He ... I could marry him if I liked; he is still young,
well-educated, and has property. There are no difficulties on the part
of my parents; on the contrary, they--I know for a fact--desire this
marriage. He is a good man, and I think he loves me ... but he is so
spiritless and narrow, his aspirations are so limited, that I cannot
but be conscious of my superiority to him. He is aware of this, and as
it were rejoices in it, and that is just what sets me against him. I
cannot respect him, though he has an excellent heart. What am I to do?
tell me! Think for me and write me your opinion sincerely.
But how grateful I am to you for your letter!... Do you know, I have
been haunted at times by such bitter thoughts.... Do you know, I had
come to the point of being almost ashamed of every feeling--not of
enthusiasm only, but even of faith; I used to shut a book with vexation
whenever there was anything about hope or happiness in it, and turned
away from a cloudless sky, from the fresh green of the trees, from
everything that was smiling and joyful. What a painful condition it
was! I say, _was_ ... as though it were over!
I don't know whether it is over; I know that if it does not return I am
indebted to you for it. Do you see, Alexey Petrovitch, how much good
you have done, perhaps, without suspecting it yourself! By the way, do
you know I feel very sorry for you? We are now in the full blaze of
summer, the days are exquisite, the sky blue and brilliant.... It
couldn't be lovelier in Italy even, and you are staying in the
stifling, baking town, and walking on the burning pavement. What
induces you to do so? You might at least move into some summer villa
out of town. They say there are bright spots at Peterhof, on the
sea-coast.
I should like to write more to you, but it's impossible. Such a sweet
fragrance comes in from the garden that I can't stay indoors. I am
going to put on my hat and go for a walk.
... Good-bye till another time, good Alexey Petrovitch. Yours
devotedly, M. B.
_P.S._--I forgot to tell you ... only fancy, that witty gentleman,
about whom I wrote to you the other day, has made me a declaration of
love, and in the most ardent terms. I thought at first he was laughing
at me; but he finished up with a formal proposal--what do you think of
him, after all his libels! But he is positively too old. Yesterday
evening, to tease him, I sat down to the piano before the open window,
in the moonlight, and played Beethoven. It was so nice to feel its cold
light on my face, so delicious to fill the fragrant night air with the
sublime music, through which one could hear at times the singing of a
nightingale. It is long since I have been so happy. But write to me
about what I asked you at the beginning of my letter; it is very
important.