Farewell life, farewell my garden, and you, my lindens! When summer
comes, see that you do not forget to cover yourselves with flowers from
top to bottom .... and may good people lie in your fragrant shade, on
the cool grass beneath the lisping murmur of your leaves, lightly
agitated by the breeze. Farewell, farewell! Farewell everything, and
forever!
Farewell, Liza! I have written these two words--and have almost laughed.
That exclamation seems bookish. I seem to be composing a sentimental
novel, and ending up a despairing letter....
To-morrow is the first of April. Can it be that I shall die to-morrow?
That would be rather indecorous even. However, it befits me...
How the doctor did gabble to-day....
April 1.
'T is over. Life is ended. I really shall die to-day. It is hot out of
doors ... almost stifling .... or is it that my chest is already
refusing to breathe? My little comedy has been played through. The
curtain is falling.
In becoming annihilated, I shall cease to be superfluous...
Akh, how brilliant that sun is! Those powerful rays exhale eternity...
Farewell, Teréntievna!... This morning, as she sat by the window, she
fell to weeping .... perhaps over me ... and perhaps, because she
herself must die before long also. I made her promise "not to hurt"
Trésor.
It is difficult for me to write.... I drop my pen... 'T is time! Death
is already drawing near with increasing rumble, like a carriage by night
on the pavement: it is here, it is hovering around me, like that faint
breath which made the hair of the prophet stand upright on his head...