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I don’t know whether it is over; I know hat if it does not return I am indebted to you for it. Do you see, Alexey Petrovitch, how much good you have done, perhaps, without suspecting it yourself! By the way, do you know I feel very sorry for you? We are now in the full blaze of summer, the days are exquisite, the sky blue and brilliant…. It couldn’t be lovelier in Italy even, and you are staying in the stifling, baking town, and walking on the burning pavement. What induces you to do so? You might at least move into some summer villa out of town. They say there are bright spots at Peterhof, on the sea-coast.

I should like to write more to you, but it’s impossible. Such a sweet fragrance comes in from the garden that I can’t stay indoors. I am going to put on my hat and go for a walk.

… Good-bye till another time, good Alexey Petrovitch. Yours devotedly, M. B.

P.S.–I forgot to tell you … only fancy, that witty gentleman, about whom I wrote to you the other day, has made me a declaration of love, and in the most ardent terms. I thought at first he was laughing at me; but he finished up with a formal proposal–what do you think of him, after all his libels! But he is positively too old. Yesterday evening, to tease him, I sat down to the piano before the open window, in the moonlight, and played Beethoven. It was so nice to feel its cold light on my face, so delicious to fill the fragrant night air with the sublime music, through which one could hear at times the singing of a nightingale. It is long since I have been so happy. But write to me about what I asked you at the beginning of my letter; it is very important.

XII

FROM ALEXEY PETROVITCH TO MARYA ALEXANDROVNA

ST. PETERSBURG, July 8, 1840.

DEAR MARYA ALEXANDROVNA,–Here is my opinion in a couple of words: both the old bachelor and the young suitor–overboard with them both! There is no need even to consider it. Neither of them is worthy of you–that’s as clear as that twice two makes four. The young neighbour is very likely a good-natured person, but that’s enough about him! I am convinced that there is nothing in common between him and you, and you can fancy how amusing it would be for you to live together! Besides, why be in a hurry? Is it a possible thing that a woman like you–I don’t want to pay compliments, and that’s why I don’t expatiate further–that such a woman should meet no one who would be capable of appreciating her? No, Marya Alexandrovna, listen to me, if you really believe that I am your friend, and that my advice is of use. But confess, it was agreeable to see the old scoffer at your feet…. If I had been in your place, I’d have kept him singing Beethoven’s Adelaida and gazing at the moon the whole night long.

Enough of them, though,–your adorers! It’s not of them I want to talk to you to-day. I am in a strange, half-irritated, half-emotional state of mind to-day, in consequence of a letter I got yesterday. I am enclosing a copy of it to you. This letter was written by one of my friends of long ago, a colleague in the service, a good-natured but rather limited person. He went abroad two years ago, and till now has not written to me once. Here is his letter.–N.B. He is very good-looking.

‘CHER ALEXIS,–I am in Naples, sitting at the window in my room, in Chiaja. The weather is superb. I have been staring a long while at the sea, then I was seized with impatience, and suddenly the brilliant idea entered my head of writing a letter to you. I always felt drawn to you, my dear boy–on my honour I did. And so now I feel an inclination to pour out my soul into your bosom … that’s how one expresses it, I believe, in your exalted language. And why I’ve been overcome with impatience is this. I’m expecting a friend–a woman; we’re going together to Baiae to eat oysters and oranges, and see the tanned shepherds in red caps dance the tarantella, to bask in the sun, like lizards–in short, to enjoy life to the utmost. My dear boy, I am more happy than I can possibly tell you.