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Updated: May 31, 2025
From Yalta the steamer sailed across the Black Sea, through the Bosphorus, down the coast of Asia Minor, to the Gulf of Smyrna, anchoring in the harbour of Smyrna. A delay was made to give time to visit the ruins of the ancient city of Ephesus.
Now the day is ending, and the sun goes down behind the hills at Yalta, the mist bank over the southern horizon catches the reflection of true sunset tints, and transmits them to the velvety water, full of light-rings. I have been sitting on a pleasure seat on the sand all the afternoon, and now I go to the end of the long pier.
According to notions there, he is a Nihilist. Anyway, that's what he was called by a lady, the wife of an actual privy councillor, and I heartily congratulate him upon it.... YALTA, January 29, 1900. 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.
The houses will be ready by April. The grounds, for a town house, are considerable. There will be a garden and flowerbeds, and a vegetable garden. The railway will come to Yalta next year.... As for getting married, upon which you are so urgent what am I to say to you?
I feel better than I did last year, but yet the doctors won't let me leave Yalta. I am as tired and sick of this charming town as of a disagreeable wife. It's curing me of tuberculosis, but it's making me ten years older. If I go to Nice it won't be before February. I am writing a little; not long ago I sent a long story to Zhizn.
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. YALTA, February 3, 1900.
He thought and dreamed. A young man with small side-whiskers, tall and stooping, came in with Anna Sergeyevna and sat down beside her; he bent his head at every step and seemed to be continually bowing. Most likely this was the husband whom at Yalta, in a rush of bitter feeling, she had called a flunkey.
In the neighborhood of Yalta was the imperial summer residence Livadia, where Alexander III. was fond of spending the autumn, and this circumstance made it imperative to reduce the number of the local Jewish residents to a negligible quantity. To avert the complete ruin of the victims, many were granted reprieves, but after the expiration of their terms they were ruthlessly deported.
To write or to act, and to be conscious at the time that one is not doing the right thing that is so usual, and for beginners so profitable! The third thing is that the director has telegraphed that the second performance went magnificently, that everyone played splendidly, and that he was completely satisfied.... YALTA, January 2, 1900. I wish you a happy New Year! How are you getting on?
I imagine that she must have been seriously ill afterwards, as the next letter I got was from Yalta, where she had most probably been sent by the doctors. Her last letter contained a request to send her a thousand roubles to Yalta as quickly as possible, and ended with these words: "Excuse the gloominess of this letter; yesterday I buried my child."
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