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It is difficult for my heart to express itself; still more difficult for it to forego self- expression. Yet possibly you may understand me. Tears and laughter! . . . How good you are, Makar Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked into my eyes as though you could read in them all that I was feeling as though you were rejoicing at my happiness.
MY BELOVED MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, So eager am I to do something that will please and divert you in return for your care, for your ceaseless efforts on my behalf in short, for your love for me that I have decided to beguile a leisure hour for you by delving into my locker, and extracting thence the manuscript which I send you herewith.
Now I have finished my letter, and must go and shave myself, inasmuch as, when that is done, one always feels more decent, as well as consorts more easily with decency. God speed me! One prayer to Him, and I must be off. August 5th. DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, You must not despair. Away with melancholy! I am sending you thirty kopecks in silver, and regret that I cannot send you more.
Of course, at least TWENTY roubles will have to be set aside for indispensable requirements, but theremainder 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.
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.
Indeed, certain parts of the manuscript are almost undecipherable. I have agreed to do the work for forty kopecks a sheet. Goodbye now, as I must begin upon my labours. Your sincere friend, September 23rd. MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, I have not written to you these three days past for the reason that I have been so worried and alarmed. Three days ago Bwikov came again to see me.
Next, I inspected the work itself, of which there still remained a few remnants, and saw that you had used one of my letters for a spool upon which to wind your thread. Also, on the table I found a scrap of paper which had written on it, "My dearest Makar Alexievitch I hasten to " that was all. Evidently, someone had interrupted you at an interesting point.
Then when you lower the curtain, it means that it is time that I, Makar Alexievitch, should go to bed; and when again you raise the curtain, it means that you are saying to me, "Good morning," and asking me how I am, and whether I have slept well. "As for myself," adds the curtain, "I am altogether in good health and spirits, glory be to God!"
Your faithful and unchangeable friend, April 25th MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH, Today I met my cousin Sasha. To see her going to wrack and ruin shocked me terribly.
I began it during the happier period of my life, and have continued it at intervals since. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read it, for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned its concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am how this insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear!
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