Poor Folk
do it. What else have I to look for from the future? What more am I to
ask of fate? Thedora declares that one need NEVER lose one’s happiness;
but what, I ask HER, can be called happiness under such circumstances as
mine? At all events I see no other road open, dear friend. I see nothing
else to be done. I have worked until I have ruined my health. I cannot
go on working forever. Shall I go out into the world? Nay; I am worn to
a shadow with grief, and become good for nothing. Sickly by nature, I
should merely be a burden upon other folks. Of course this marriage will
not bring me paradise, but what else does there remain, my friend--what
else does there remain? What other choice is left?
I had not asked your advice earlier for the reason that I wanted to
think the matter over alone. However, the decision which you have just
read is unalterable, and I am about to announce it to Bwikov himself,
who in any case has pressed me for a speedy reply, owing to the fact (so
he says) that his business will not wait nor allow him to remain here
longer, and that therefore, no trifle must be allowed to stand in its
way. God alone knows whether I shall be happy, but my fate is in His
holy, His inscrutable hand, and I have so decided. Bwikov is said to be
kind-hearted. He will at least respect me, and perhaps I shall be
able to return that respect. What more could be looked for from such a
marriage?
I have now told you all, Makar Alexievitch, and feel sure that you will
understand my despondency. Do not, however, try to divert me from my
intention, for all your efforts will be in vain. Think for a moment;
weigh in your heart for a moment all that has led me to take this step.
At first my anguish was extreme, but now I am quieter. What awaits me I
know not. What must be must be, and as God may send....
Bwikov has just arrived, so I am leaving this letter unfinished.
Otherwise I had much else to say to you. Bwikov is even now at the
door!...
September 23rd.
MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I hasten to reply to you--I hasten to
express to you my extreme astonishment.... In passing, I may mention
that yesterday we buried poor Gorshkov.... Yes, Bwikov has acted nobly,
and you have no choice but to accept him. All things are in God’s hands.
This is so, and must always be so; and the purposes of the Divine
Creator are at once good and inscrutable, as also is Fate, which is one
with Him.... Thedora will share your happiness--for, of course, you will
be happy, and free from want, darling, dearest, sweetest of angels! But
why should the matter be so hurried? Oh, of course--Monsieur Bwikov’s
business affairs. Only a man who has no affairs to see to can afford to
disregard such things. I got a glimpse of Monsieur Bwikov as he was
leaving your door. He is a fine-looking man--a very fine-looking man;
though that is not the point that I should most have noticed had I been
quite myself at the time....
In the future shall we be able to write letters to one another? I keep
wondering and wondering what has led you to say all that you have said.
To think that just when twenty pages of my copying are completed THIS
has happened!... I suppose you will be able to make many purchases
now--to buy shoes and dresses and all sorts of things? Do you remember
the shops in Gorokhovaia Street of which I used to speak?...
But no. You ought not to go out at present--you simply ought not to, and
shall not. Presently, you will he able to buy many, many things, and to,
keep a carriage. Also, at present the weather is bad. Rain is descending
in pailfuls, and it is such a soaking kind of rain that--that you might
catch cold from it, my darling, and the chill might go to your heart.
Why should your fear of this man lead you to take such risks when all
the time I am here to do your bidding? So Thedora declares great
happiness to be awaiting you, does she? She is a gossiping old woman,
and evidently desires to ruin you. Shall you be at the all-night Mass
this evening, dearest? I should like to come and see you there. Yes,
Bwikov spoke but the truth when he said that you are a woman of virtue,
wit, and good feeling. Yet I think he would do far better to marry the
merchant’s daughter. What think YOU about it? Yes, ‘twould be far better
for him. As soon as it grows dark tonight I mean to come and sit with
you for an hour. Tonight twilight will close in early, so I shall soon
be with you. Yes, come what may, I mean to see you for an hour. At
present, I suppose, you are expecting Bwikov, but I will come as soon as
he has gone. So stay at home until I have arrived, dearest.
MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
September 27th.
DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--Bwikov has just informed me that I must have
at least three dozen linen blouses; so I must go at once and look for
sempstresses to make two out of the three dozen, since time presses.
Indeed, Monsieur Bwikov is quite angry about the fuss which these
fripperies are entailing, seeing that there remain but five days before
the wedding, and we are to depart on the following day. He keeps rushing
about and declaring that no time ought to be wasted on trifles. I am
terribly worried, and scarcely able to stand on my feet. There is
so much to do, and, perhaps, so much that were better left undone!
Moreover, I have no blond or other lace; so THERE is another item to be
purchased, since Bwikov declares that he cannot have his bride look
like a cook, but, on the contrary, she must “put the noses of the great
ladies out of joint.” That is his expression. I wish, therefore, that
you would go to Madame Chiffon’s, in Gorokhovaia Street, and ask her, in
the first place, to send me some sempstresses, and, in the second place,
to give herself the trouble of coming in person, as I am too ill to
go out. Our new flat is very cold, and still in great disorder. Also,
Bwikov has an aunt who is at her last gasp through old age, and may die
before our departure. He himself, however, declares this to be nothing,
and says that she will soon recover. He is not yet living with me, and
I have to go running hither and thither to find him. Only Thedora
is acting as my servant, together with Bwikov’s valet, who oversees
everything, but has been absent for the past three days.
Each morning Bwikov goes to business, and loses his temper. Yesterday
he even had some trouble with the police because of his thrashing the
steward of these buildings... I have no one to send with this letter so
I am going to post it... Ah! I had almost forgotten the most important
point--which is that I should like you to go and tell Madame Chiffon
that I wish the blond lace to be changed in conformity with yesterday’s
patterns, if she will be good enough to bring with her a new assortment.
Also say that I have altered my mind about the satin, which I wish to
be tamboured with crochet-work; also, that tambour is to be used with
monograms on the various garments. Do you hear? Tambour, not smooth
work. Do not forget that it is to be tambour. Another thing I had almost
forgotten, which is that the lappets of the fur cloak must be raised,
and the collar bound with lace. Please tell her these things, Makar
Alexievitch.--Your friend,
B. D.
P.S.--I am so ashamed to trouble you with my commissions! This is the
third morning that you will have spent in running about for my sake. But
what else am I to do? The whole place is in disorder, and I myself
am ill. Do not be vexed with me, Makar Alexievitch. I am feeling so
depressed! What is going to become of me, dear friend, dear, kind, old
Makar Alexievitch? I dread to look forward into the future. Somehow I
feel apprehensive; I am living, as it were, in a mist. Yet, for God’s
sake, forget none of my commissions. I am so afraid lest you should make
a mistake! Remember that everything is to be tambour work, not smooth.
September 27th.
MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I have carefully fulfilled your
commissions. Madame Chiffon informs me that she herself had thought of
using tambour work as being more suitable (though I did not quite take
in all she said). Also, she has informed me that, since you have given
certain directions in writing, she has followed them (though again I do
not clearly remember all that she said--I only remember that she said
a very great deal, for she is a most tiresome old woman). These
observations she will soon be repeating to you in person. For myself, I
feel absolutely exhausted, and have not been to the office today...
Do not despair about the future, dearest. To save you trouble I would
visit every shop in St. Petersburg. You write that you dare not look
forward into the future. But by tonight, at seven o’clock, you will have
learned all, for Madame Chiffon will have arrived in person to see you.
Hope on, and everything will order itself for the best. Of course, I
am referring only to these accursed gewgaws, to these frills and
fripperies! Ah me, ah me, how glad I shall be to see you, my angel! Yes,
how glad I shall be! Twice already today I have passed the gates of your
abode. Unfortunately, this Bwikov is a man of such choler that--Well,
things are as they are.
MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
September 28th.
MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH,--For God’s sake go to the jeweller’s,
and tell him that, after all, he need not make the pearl and emerald
earrings. Monsieur Bwikov says that they will cost him too much, that
they will burn a veritable hole in his pocket. In fact, he has lost his
temper again, and declares that he is being robbed. Yesterday he added
that, had he but known, but foreseen, these expenses, he would never
have married. Also, he says that, as things are, he intends only to have
a plain wedding, and then to depart. “You must not look for any dancing
or festivity or entertainment of guests, for our gala times are still in
the air.” Such were his words. God knows I do not want such things, but
none the less Bwikov has forbidden them. I made him no answer on the
subject, for he is a man all too easily irritated. What, what is going
to become of me?
B. D.
September 28th.
MY BELOVED BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--All is well as regards the jeweller.
Unfortunately, I have also to say that I myself have fallen ill, and
cannot rise from bed. Just when so many things need to be done, I have
gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! Also I have to tell you
that, to complete my misfortunes, his Excellency has been pleased to
become stricter. Today he railed at and scolded Emelia Ivanovitch until
the poor fellow was quite put about. That is the sum of my news.
No--there is something else concerning which I should like to write
to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. I am a simple,
dull fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head--Your
friend,
MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.
September 29th.
MY OWN BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--Today, dearest, I saw Thedora, who informed
me that you are to be married tomorrow, and on the following day to go
away--for which purpose Bwikov has ordered a post-chaise....
Well, of the incident of his Excellency, I have already told you. Also
I have verified the bill from the shop in Gorokhovaia Street. It is
correct, but very long. Why is Monsieur Bwikov so out of humour with
you? Nay, but you must be of good cheer, my darling. I am so, and shall
always be so, so long as you are happy. I should have come to the church
tomorrow, but, alas, shall be prevented from doing so by the pain in my
loins. Also, I would have written an account of the ceremony, but that
there will be no one to report to me the details....
Yes, you have been a very good friend to Thedora, dearest. You have
acted kindly, very kindly, towards her. For every such deed God will
bless you. Good deeds never go unrewarded, nor does virtue ever fail to