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Updated: May 27, 2025
Ah, Makar Alexievitch! You ought to have stopped at your first acts of charity acts inspired by sympathy and the love of kinsfolk, rather than have continued to squander your means upon what was unnecessary.
Nevertheless, I send you thirty kopecks almost the last coins that I have left to me, much as I should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. I feel vexed to the point of weeping. Goodbye, dear friend of mine. You will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today. August 14th. What is the matter with you, Makar Alexievitch?
Simultaneously there rose into the sky, in the wake of the sun, a dense stratum of cloud which, blue and snow-white in colour, lay with its soft hummocks reflected in the calm Oka, and so wrought therein a secondary firmament as profound and impalpable as its original. "Now then, Makar!" was Gubin's command, and once more I posted myself at the bottom of the well.
But why have you sent me also bonbons? Your letter tells me that something special is afoot with you, for I find in it so much about paradise and spring and sweet odours and the songs of birds. Surely, thought I to myself when I received it, this is as good as poetry! Indeed, verses are the only thing that your letter lacks, Makar Alexievitch.
The lamp shone cheerfully. Outside was snow, frost, and peace. Makar approached and lounged on the floor. There was an atmosphere of quiet joy and comfort in the chapel-like room. The walls cracked in the frost; some towels embroidered in red and blue with reindeer and cocks hung over them. Outside the frozen windows was darkness, cold, and night.
How is it that his compositions please you so much, Makar Alexievitch? I think them SUCH rubbish! Now goodbye. How I have been chattering on! When feeling sad, I always like to talk of something, for it acts upon me like medicine I begin to feel easier as soon as I have uttered what is preying upon my heart. Good bye, good-bye, my friend Your own June 28th.
Here he wrote several stories, and the "Dream of Makar," which was published two years later, and greatly praised by the critics for its originality and its setting. The dreary country around Yakutsk and the life that is lived there made such a profound impression on the young man that even to-day he speaks of that time with real emotion. "My hut was at the extreme end of the town.
Be of good cheer, and the Lord God watch over you! Your faithful friend, P.S Thank you so much for the book, darling! I will read it through, this volume of Pushkin, and tonight come to you. MY DEAR MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH No, no, my friend, I must not go on living near you. I have been thinking the matter over, and come to the conclusion that I should be doing very wrong to refuse so good a post.
Lastly, behind a screen there was your little bed. . . . Oh darling of darlings!!! . . . Well, goodbye now, goodbye now, but for God's sake send me something in answer to this letter! September 3Oth. MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, All is over! The die is cast! What my lot may have in store I know not, but I am submissive to the will of God. Tomorrow, then, we depart.
The effect on the Arabs was electric. The remaining guards glanced up apprehensively, and very speedily changed their location. As for Makar, he evidently believed that Sir Arthur had come down expressly in response to his summons, for he waited for the rest to follow his example. "Bless my heart!" muttered Sir Arthur. "What a narrow escape!"
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