Poor Folk: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

June 20th.

MY DEAREST MAKAR ALEXIEVITCH--I am writing to you post-haste--I
am hurrying my utmost to get my work finished in time. What do
you suppose is the reason for this? It is because an opportunity
has occurred for you to make a splendid purchase. Thedora tells
me that a retired civil servant of her acquaintance has a uniform
to sell--one cut to regulation pattern and in good repair, as
well as likely to go very cheap. Now, DO not tell me that you
have not got the money, for I know from your own lips that you
HAVE. Use that money, I pray you, and do not hoard it. See what
terrible garments you walk about in! They are shameful--they are
patched all over! In fact, you have nothing new whatever. That
this is so, I know for certain, and I care not WHAT you tell me
about it. So listen to me for once, and buy this uniform. Do it
for MY sake. Do it to show that you really love me.

You have sent me some linen as a gift. But listen to me, Makar
Alexievitch. You are simply ruining yourself. Is it a jest that
you should spend so much money, such a terrible amount of money,
upon me? How you love to play the spendthrift! I tell you that I
do not need it, that such expenditure is unnecessary. I know, I
am CERTAIN, that you love me-- therefore, it is useless to remind
me of the fact with gifts. Nor do I like receiving them, since I
know how much they must have cost you.  No-- put your money to a
better use. I beg, I beseech of you, to do so. Also, you ask me
to send you a continuation of my memoirs--to conclude them. But I
know not how I contrived even to write as much of them as I did;
and now I have not the strength to write further of my past, nor
the desire to give it a single thought. Such recollections are
terrible to me. Most difficult of all is it for me to speak of my
poor mother, who left her destitute daughter a prey to villains.
My heart runs blood whenever I think of it; it is so fresh in my
memory that I cannot dismiss it from my thoughts, nor rest for
its insistence, although a year has now elapsed since the events
took place. But all this you know.

Also, I have told you what Anna Thedorovna is now intending. She
accuses me of ingratitude, and denies the accusations made
against herself with regard to Monsieur Bwikov. Also, she keeps
sending for me, and telling me that I have taken to evil courses,
but that if I will return to her, she will smooth over matters
with Bwikov, and force him to confess his fault. Also, she says
that he desires to give me a dowry. Away with them all! I am
quite happy here with you and good Thedora, whose devotion to me
reminds me of my old nurse, long since dead. Distant kinsman
though you may be, I pray you always to defend my honour. Other
people I do not wish to know, and would gladly forget if I could.
. . . What are they wanting with me now? Thedora declares it all
to be a trick, and says that in time they will leave me alone.
God grant it be so!

B. D.

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