YALTA,
March 26, 1900.
There is a feeling of black melancholy about your letter, dear actress; you
are gloomy, you are fearfully unhappy--but not for long, one may imagine,
as soon, very soon, you will be sitting in the train, eating your lunch
with a very good appetite. It is very nice that you are coming first with
Masha before all the others; we shall at least have time to talk a little,
walk a little, see things, drink and eat. But please don’t bring with you
...
I haven’t a new play, it’s a lie of the newspapers. The newspapers never do
tell the truth about me. If I did begin a play, of course the first thing I
should do would be to inform you of the fact.
There is a great wind here; the spring has not begun properly yet, but we
go about without our goloshes and fur caps. The tulips will soon be out. I
have a nice garden but it is untidy, moss-grown--a dilettante garden.
Gorky is here. He is warm in his praises of you and your theatre. I will
introduce you to him.
Oh dear! Someone has arrived. A visitor has come in. Good-bye for now,
actress!