--"Qu'est ce que c'est?" "Enfin, vous devinez bien, le fameux Petrow." "Ça a eu lieu?" "Le 26 décembre." "Oh, mais certainement" . . . "But do you know how fine Nordet is in Indigo?" 46"Mais c'est miraculeux, mon très cher: je l'idolâtre, moi, cette petite là." The devil take them,--these financiers, these unenigmatic sphinxes of the nineteenth century. This is what Russia, beloved by me, sinner that I am, has stumbled against! Lord! . . .
Yours, my dear,
So on Saturday I am yours.
[ 1 November, 1875]
MY DEAR FRIEND ARSENI,
What have you done with yourself! You little dove, coming across the whole yard with your bad leg, coming to me, at the same time that I was climbing the stairs from the main entrance, asking about you. "He just left." Lord, what a calamity! I dreamt about and prepared to absorb the Shuisky that is a million thousand times dear to me, and I did not absorb it. I dreamt about and imagined hearing "In Ruins" 47--it didn't turn out that way. After what you have done with yourself, tell me, friend: what have you done with me? My nerves are in shreds. All that is written here is the truth. I've questioned everyone at home except the Naumin (my host) who has gone to the Huguenots.
And how could you, friend, have felt misgivings and run from the lady of the house!48 I'm surprised you didn't trust me: she had been prepared by me for you, she waited (for she told me that you are nice); I assure you that she is a perfect lady, as shy as you are, but affection-____________________