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‘Why did you make such a fuss?’ he would say, almost snorting with indignation; ‘upon my word! The old chap, of course, got a little too hot, was a little too much in a hurry, and so he made a mess of it; now, of course, his vanity’s hurt, there’s no setting the mischief right again now! If you’d only waited a day or two, it’d all have been right as a trivet; you wouldn’t have been kept on dry bread, and I should have stayed what I was! Ah, well, women’s hair is long… but their wit is short! Never mind; I’ll be even with you yet, and that pretty young gentleman shall smart for it too!’

I had, of course, to bear all these insults in silence. Semyon Matveitch I did not once see again. The separation from his son had been a shock to him too. Whether he felt remorse or–which is far more likely–wished to bind me for ever to my home, to my family–my family!–anyway, he assigned me a pension, which was to be paid into my stepfather’s hands, and to be given to me till I married…. This humiliating alms, this pension I still receive… that is to say, Mr. Ratsch receives it for me….

We settled in Moscow. I swear by the memory of my poor mother, I would not have remained two days, not two hours, with my stepfather, after once reaching the town… I would have gone away, not knowing where… to the police; I would have flung myself at the feet of the governor-general, of the senators; I don’t know what I would have done, if it had not happened, at the very moment of our starting from the country, that the girl who had been our maid managed to give me a letter from Michel! Oh, that letter! How many times I read over each line, how many times I covered it with kisses! Michel besought me not to lose heart, to go on hoping, to believe in his unchanging love; he swore that he would never belong to any one but me; he called me his wife, he promised to overcome all hindrances, he drew a picture of our future, he asked of me only one thing, to be patient, to wait a little….

And I resolved to wait and be patient. Alas! what would I not have agreed to, what would I not have borne, simply to do his will! That letter became my holy thing, my guiding star, my anchor. Sometimes when my stepfather would begin abusing and insulting me, I would softly lay my hand on my bosom (I wore Michel’s letter sewed into an amulet) and only smile. And the more violent and abusive was Mr. Ratsch, the easier, lighter, and sweeter was the heart within me…. I used to see, at last, by his eyes, that he began to wonder whether I was going out of my mind…. Following on this first letter came a second, still more full of hope…. It spoke of our meeting soon.

Alas! instead of that meeting there came a morning… I can see Mr. Ratsch coming in–and triumph again, malignant triumph, in his face–and in his hands a page of the Invalid, and there the announcement of the death of the Captain of the Guards–Mihail Koltovsky.

What can I add? I remained alive, and went on living in Mr. Ratsch’s house. He hated me as before–more than before–he had unmasked his black soul too much before me, he could not pardon me that. But that was of no consequence to me. I became, as it were, without feeling; my own fate no longer interested me. To think of him, to think of him! I had no interest, no joy, but that. My poor Michel died with my name on his lips…. I was told so by a servant, devoted to him, who had been with him when he came into the country. The same year my stepfather married Eleonora Karpovna. Semyon Matveitch died shortly after. In his will he secured to me and increased the pension he had allowed me…. In the event of my death, it was to pass to Mr. Ratsch….