Poor Folk
further mistakes, and I will overlook your fault.”
What I think about it is this: I beg of you and of Thedora, and had
I any children I should beg of them also, to pray ever to God for his
Excellency. I should say to my children: “For your father you need not
pray; but for his Excellency, I bid you pray until your lives shall
end.” Yes, dear one--I tell you this in all solemnity, so hearken well
unto my words--that though, during these cruel days of our adversity,
I have nearly died of distress of soul at the sight of you and your
poverty, as well as at the sight of myself and my abasement and
helplessness, I yet care less for the hundred roubles which his
Excellency has given me than for the fact that he was good enough to
take the hand of a wretched drunkard in his own and press it. By that
act he restored me to myself. By that act he revived my courage, he made
life forever sweet to me.... Yes, sure am I that, sinner though I be
before the Almighty, my prayers for the happiness and prosperity of his
Excellency will yet ascend to the Heavenly Throne!...
But, my darling, for the moment I am terribly agitated and distraught.
My heart is beating as though it would burst my breast, and all my body
seems weak.... I send you forty-five roubles in notes. Another twenty
I shall give to my landlady, and the remaining thirty-five I shall
keep--twenty for new clothes and fifteen for actual living expenses. But
these experiences of the morning have shaken me to the core, and I
must rest awhile. It is quiet, very quiet, here. My breath is coming in
jerks--deep down in my breast I can hear it sobbing and trembling....
I will come and see you soon, but at the moment my head is aching with
these various sensations. God sees all things, my darling, my priceless
treasure!--Your steadfast friend,
MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
September 10th.
MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am unspeakably rejoiced at your good
fortune, and fully appreciate the kindness of your superior. Now, take
a rest from your cares. Only do not AGAIN spend money to no advantage.
Live as quietly and as frugally as possible, and from today begin always
to set aside something, lest misfortune again overtake you. Do not, for
God’s sake, worry yourself--Thedora and I will get on somehow. Why have
you sent me so much money? I really do not need it--what I had already
would have been quite sufficient. True, I shall soon be needing further
funds if I am to leave these lodgings, but Thedora is hoping before long
to receive repayment of an old debt. Of course, at least TWENTY roubles
will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but the
remainder shall be returned to you. Pray take care of it, Makar
Alexievitch. Now, goodbye. May your life continue peacefully, and may
you preserve your health and spirits. I would have written to you at
greater length had I not felt so terribly weary. Yesterday I never left
my bed. I am glad that you have promised to come and see me. Yes, you
MUST pay me a visit.
B. D.
September 11th.
MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I implore you not to leave me now that
I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora says, and I
will do anything in the world for you. I will behave myself better, even
if only out of respect for his Excellency, and guard my every action.
Once more we will exchange cheerful letters with one another, and make
mutual confidence of our thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that
we shall know any more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily
and comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books.... Angel of my
heart, a great change has taken place in my fortunes--a change very much
for the better. My landlady has become more accommodating; Theresa has
recovered her senses; even Phaldoni springs to do my bidding. Likewise,
I have made my peace with Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own
accord, the moment that he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt
that he is a good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that
one hears of him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had
any intention of putting me and yourself into a book. This he told me
himself, and then read to me his latest work. As for his calling me
“Lovelace,” he had intended no rudeness or indecency thereby. The term
is merely one of foreign derivation, meaning a clever fellow, or, in
more literary and elegant language, a gentleman with whom one must
reckon. That is all; it was a mere harmless jest, my beloved. Only
ignorance made me lose my temper, and I have expressed to him my
regret.... How beautiful is the weather today, my little Barbara! True,
there was a slight frost in the early morning, as though scattered
through a sieve, but it was nothing, and the breeze soon freshened the
air. I went out to buy some shoes, and obtained a splendid pair. Then,
after a stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read “The Daily Bee”. This
reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important thing of
all. It happened like this:
This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti
Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the only
person to whom he has acted kindly and been charitable, for he is known
to the whole world for his goodness of heart. In many quarters his
praises are to be heard; in many quarters he has called forth tears
of gratitude. Among other things, he undertook the care of an orphaned
girl, and married her to an official, the son of a poor widow, and found
this man place in a certain chancellory, and in other ways benefited
him. Well, dearest, I considered it to be my duty to add my mite by
publishing abroad the story of his Excellency’s gracious treatment of
myself. Accordingly, I related the whole occurrence to my interlocutors,
and concealed not a single detail. In fact, I put my pride into my
pocket--though why should I feel ashamed of having been elated by such
an occurrence? “Let it only be noised afield,” said I to myself, and it
will resound greatly to his Excellency’s credit.--So I expressed myself
enthusiastically on the subject and never faltered. On the contrary,
I felt proud to have such a story to tell. I referred to every one
concerned (except to yourself, of course, dearest)--to my landlady, to
Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my
shoes! Some of those standing by laughed--in fact every one present did
so, but probably it was my own figure or the incident of my shoes--more
particularly the latter--that excited merriment, for I am sure it was
not meant ill-naturedly. My hearers may have been young men, or well
off; certainly they cannot have been laughing with evil intent at what
I had said. Anything against his Excellency CANNOT have been in their
thoughts. Eh, Barbara?
Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by recent
events.... Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara? You must not expose
yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my spirits with your fears
for the future. Daily I pray to God on your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray
to Him!... Likewise, have you any woollen stockings to wear, and warm
clothes generally? Mind you, if there is anything you need, you must
not hurt an old man’s feelings by failing to apply to him for what you
require. The bad times are gone now, and the future is looking bright
and fair.
But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone, and
can no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually recover
ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days I never had
a kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was, I was always
light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the Nevski Prospect, and meet
nice-looking people, and be happy all day. Yes, it was a glorious, a
glorious time! It was good to be alive, especially in St. Petersburg.
Yet it is but yesterday that I was beseeching God with tears to pardon
me my sins during the late sorrowful period--to pardon me my murmurings
and evil thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in
my prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you alone
have given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget that,
dearest. Today I gave each one of your letters a kiss.... Goodbye,
beloved. I have been told that there is going to be a sale of clothing
somewhere in this neighbourhood. Once more goodbye, goodbye, my
angel--Yours in heart and soul,
MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
September 15th.
MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--I am in terrible distress. I feel sure
that something is about to happen. The matter, my beloved friend, is
that Monsieur Bwikov is again in St. Petersburg, for Thedora has met
him. He was driving along in a drozhki, but, on meeting Thedora, he
ordered the coachman to stop, sprang out, and inquired of her where she
was living; but this she would not tell him. Next, he said with a
smile that he knew quite well who was living with her (evidently Anna
Thedorovna had told him); whereupon Thedora could hold out no longer,
but then and there, in the street, railed at and abused him--telling him
that he was an immoral man, and the cause of all my misfortunes. To
this he replied that a person who did not possess a groat must surely be
rather badly off; to which Thedora retorted that I could always either
live by the labour of my hands or marry--that it was not so much a
question of my losing posts as of my losing my happiness, the ruin of
which had led almost to my death. In reply he observed that, though
I was still quite young, I seemed to have lost my wits, and that my
“virtue appeared to be under a cloud” (I quote his exact words). Both
I and Thedora had thought that he does not know where I live; but,
last night, just as I had left the house to make a few purchases in the
Gostinni Dvor, he appeared at our rooms (evidently he had not wanted to
find me at home), and put many questions to Thedora concerning our way
of living. Then, after inspecting my work, he wound up with: “Who is
this tchinovnik friend of yours?” At the moment you happened to be
passing through the courtyard, so Thedora pointed you out, and the man
peered at you, and laughed. Thedora next asked him to depart--telling
him that I was still ill from grief, and that it would give me great
pain to see him there; to which, after a pause, he replied that he had
come because he had had nothing better to do. Also, he was for giving
Thedora twenty-five roubles, but, of course, she declined them. What
does it all mean? Why has he paid this visit? I cannot understand his
getting to know about me. I am lost in conjecture. Thedora, however,
says that Aksinia, her sister-in-law (who sometimes comes to see her),
is acquainted with a laundress named Nastasia, and that this woman has
a cousin in the position of watchman to a department of which a certain
friend of Anna Thedorovna’s nephew forms one of the staff. Can it be,
therefore, that an intrigue has been hatched through THIS channel? But
Thedora may be entirely mistaken. We hardly know what to think. What if
he should come again? The very thought terrifies me. When Thedora told
me of this last night such terror seized upon me that I almost swooned
away. What can the man be wanting? At all events, I refuse to know such
people. What have they to do with my wretched self? Ah, how I am haunted
with anxiety, for every moment I keep thinking that Bwikov is at hand!
WHAT will become of me? WHAT MORE has fate in store for me? For Christ’s
sake come and see me, Makar Alexievitch! For Christ’s sake come and see
me soon!
September 18th.
MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today there took place in this house
a most lamentable, a most mysterious, a most unlooked-for occurrence.