MOSCOW,
1885.
... I could not come to see you last summer because I took the place of a
district doctor friend of mine who went away for his holiday, but this year
I hope to travel and therefore to see you. Last December I had an attack of
spitting blood, and decided to take some money from the Literary Fund and
go abroad for my health. I am a little better now, but I still think that I
shall have to go away. And whenever I go abroad, or to the Crimea, or to
the Caucasus, I will go through Taganrog.
... I am sorry I cannot join you in being of service to my native
Taganrog.... I am sure that if my work had been there I should have been
calmer, more cheerful, in better health, but evidently it is my fate to
remain in Moscow. My home and my career are here. I have work of two sorts.
As a doctor I should have grown slack in Taganrog and forgotten my
medicine, but in Moscow a doctor has no time to go to the club and play
cards. As a writer I am no use except in Moscow or Petersburg.
My medical work is progressing little by little. I go on steadily treating
patients. Every day I have to spend more than a rouble on cabs. I have a
lot of friends and therefore many patients. Half of them I have to treat
for nothing, but the other half pay me three or five roubles a visit.... I
need hardly say I have not made a fortune yet, and it will be a long time
before I do, but I live tolerably and need nothing. So long as I am alive
and well the position of the family is secure. I have bought new furniture,
hired a good piano, keep two servants, give little evening parties with
music and singing. I have no debts and do not want to borrow. Till quite
recently we used to run an account at the butcher’s and grocer’s, but now I
have stopped even that, and we pay cash for everything. What will come
later, there is no knowing; as it is we have nothing to complain of....