Poor Folk: Chapter 41

Chapter 41

September 11th.

MY DARLING BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--I implore you not to leave me now
that I am once more happy and contented. Disregard what Thedora
says, and I will do anything in the world for you. I will behave
myself better, even if only out of respect for his Excellency,
and guard my every action. Once more we will exchange cheerful
letters with one another, and make mutual confidence of our
thoughts and joys and sorrows (if so be that we shall know any
more sorrows?). Yes, we will live twice as happily and
comfortably as of old. Also, we will exchange books. . . . Angel
of my heart, a great change has taken place in my fortunes--a
change very much for the better. My landlady has become more
accommodating; Theresa has recovered her senses; even Phaldoni
springs to do my bidding. Likewise, I have made my peace with
Rataziaev. He came to see me of his own accord, the moment that
he heard the glad tidings. There can be no doubt that he is a
good fellow, that there is no truth in the slanders that one
hears of him. For one thing, I have discovered that he never had
any intention of putting me and yourself into a book. This he
told me himself, and then read to me his latest work. As for his
calling me "Lovelace," he had intended no rudeness or indecency
thereby. The term is merely one of foreign derivation, meaning a
clever fellow, or, in more literary and elegant language, a
gentleman with whom one must reckon. That is all; it was a mere
harmless jest, my beloved. Only ignorance made me lose my temper,
and I have expressed to him my regret. . . . How beautiful is the
weather today, my little Barbara! True, there was a slight frost
in the early morning, as though scattered through a sieve, but it
was nothing, and the breeze soon freshened the air. I went out to
buy some shoes, and obtained a splendid pair. Then, after a
stroll along the Nevski Prospect, I read "The Daily Bee". This
reminds me that I have forgotten to tell you the most important
thing of all. It happened like this:

This morning I had a talk with Emelia Ivanovitch and Aksenti
Michaelovitch concerning his Excellency. Apparently, I am not the
only person to whom he has acted kindly and been charitable, for
he is known to the whole world for his goodness of heart. In many
quarters his praises are to be heard; in many quarters he has
called forth tears of gratitude. Among other things, he undertook
the care of an orphaned girl, and married her to an official, the
son of a poor widow, and found this man place in a certain
chancellory, and in other ways benefited him. Well, dearest, I
considered it to be my duty to add my mite by publishing abroad
the story of his Excellency's gracious treatment of myself.
Accordingly, I related the whole occurrence to my interlocutors,
and concealed not a single detail. In fact, I put my pride into
my pocket--though why should I feel ashamed of having been elated
by such an occurrence? "Let it only be noised afield," said I to
myself, and it will resound greatly to his Excellency's credit.--
So I expressed myself enthusiastically on the subject and never
faltered. On the contrary, I felt proud to have such a story to
tell. I referred to every one concerned (except to yourself, of
course, dearest)--to my landlady, to Phaldoni, to Rataziaev, to
Markov. I even mentioned the matter of my shoes! Some of those
standing by laughed--in fact every one present did so, but
probably it was my own figure or the incident of my shoes--more
particularly the latter--that excited merriment, for I am sure it
was not meant ill-naturedly. My hearers may have been young men,
or well off; certainly they cannot have been laughing with evil
intent at what I had said. Anything against his Excellency CANNOT
have been in their thoughts. Eh, Barbara?

Even now I cannot wholly collect my faculties, so upset am I by
recent events. . . . Have you any fuel to go on with, Barbara?
You must not expose yourself to cold. Also, you have depressed my
spirits with your fears for the future. Daily I pray to God on
your behalf. Ah, HOW I pray to Him! . . . Likewise, have you any
woollen stockings to wear, and warm clothes generally? Mind you,
if there is anything you need, you must not hurt an old man's
feelings by failing to apply to him for what you require. The bad
times are gone now, and the future is looking bright and fair.

But what bad times they were, Barbara, even though they be gone,
and can no longer matter! As the years pass on we shall gradually
recover ourselves. How clearly I remember my youth! In those days
I never had a kopeck to spare. Yet, cold and hungry though I was,
I was always light-hearted. In the morning I would walk the
Nevski Prospect, and meet nice-looking people, and be happy all
day. Yes, it was a glorious, a glorious time! It was good to be
alive, especially in St. Petersburg. Yet it is but yesterday that
I was beseeching God with tears to pardon me my sins during the
late sorrowful period--to pardon me my murmurings and evil
thoughts and gambling and drunkenness. And you I remembered in my
prayers, for you alone have encouraged and comforted me, you
alone have given me advice and instruction. I shall never forget
that, dearest. Today I gave each one of your letters a kiss. . .
. Goodbye, beloved. I have been told that there is going to be a
sale of clothing somewhere in this neighbourhood. Once more
goodbye, goodbye, my angel-Yours in heart and soul,

MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.

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