They have written to me that you have grown very fat and become dignified,
and I did not expect that you would remember me and write to me. But you
have remembered me--and thank you very much for it, dear. You write nothing
about your health: evidently it’s not bad, and I am glad. I hope your
mother is well and that everything is going on all right. I am nearly well;
I am ill from time to time, but not often, and only because I am old--the
bacilli have nothing to do with it. And when I see a lovely woman now I
smile in an aged way, and drop my lower lip--that’s all.
* * * * *
Lika, I am dreadfully bored in Yalta. My life does not run or flow, but
crawls along. Don’t forget me; write to me now and then, anyway. In your
letters just as in your life you are a very interesting woman. I press your
hand warmly.