Фёдор Достоевский (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poor Folk, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Poor Folk
Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Translator: C. J. Hogarth
Release Date: August, 2000 [EBook #2302]
Last Updated: January 26, 2013
Language: English
Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger
POOR FOLK
By Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Translated by C. J. Hogarth
CONTENTS
April 8th
April 8th
April 8th
April 9th
April 12th
April 25th
May 20th
June 1st
June 11th
June 12th.
June 20th.
June 21st.
June 22nd.
June 25th.
June 26th.
June 27th.
June 28th.
July 1st.
July 7th.
July 8th.
July 27th.
July 28th.
July 28th.
July 29th.
August 1st.
August 2nd.
August 3rd.
August 4th.
August 4th.
August 5th.
August 5th.
August 11th.
August 13th.
August 14th.
August 19th.
August 21st.
September 3rd.
September 5th.
September 9th.
September 10th.
September 11th.
September 15th.
September 18th.
September 19th.
September 23rd.
September 23rd.
September 27th.
September 27th.
September 28th.
September 28th.
September 29th.
September 30th.
April 8th
MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—How happy I was last night—how immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight o'clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)—I awoke, I say, and, lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes—and felt my very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face clearly! For there was a time when you and I could see one another without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved one! At this very moment everything is standing awry to my eyes, for a man needs only to work late overnight in his writing of something or other for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, and the tears to be gushing from them in a way that makes him ashamed to be seen before strangers. However, I was able to picture to myself your beaming smile, my angel—your kind, bright smile; and in my heart there lurked just such a feeling as on the occasion when I first kissed you, my little Barbara. Do you remember that, my darling Yet somehow you seemed to be threatening me with your tiny finger. Was it so, little wanton? You must write and tell me about it in your next letter.