Chapter 10

June 12th.

MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--I had supposed that you meant to
describe our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there
has arrived only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must
say that, little though you have put into your letter, that
little is not expressed with rare beauty and grace. Nature, your
descriptions of rural scenes, your analysis of your own feelings-
-the whole is beautifully written. Alas, I have no such talent!
Though I may fill a score of pages, nothing comes of it-- I might
as well never have put pen to paper. Yes, this I know from
experience.

You say, my darling, that I am kind and good, that I could not
harm my fellow-men, that I have power to comprehend the goodness
of God (as expressed in nature's handiwork), and so on. It may
all be so, my dearest one--it may all be exactly as you say.
Indeed, I think that you are right. But if so, the reason is that
when one reads such a letter as you have just sent me, one's
heart involuntarily softens, and affords entrance to thoughts of
a graver and weightier order. Listen, my darling; I have
something to tell you, my beloved one.

I will begin from the time when I was seventeen years old and
first entered the service--though I shall soon have completed my
thirtieth year of official activity. I may say that at first I
was much pleased with my new uniform; and, as I grew older, I
grew in mind, and fell to studying my fellow-men. Likewise I may
say that I lived an upright life--so much so that at last I
incurred persecution. This you may not believe, but it is true.
To think that men so cruel should exist! For though, dearest one,
I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like everyone else.
Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I tell you what
these cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell it you--and
all because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured disposition!

Things began with "this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your
fault." Then it went on to "I need hardly say that the fault is
wholly Makar Alexievitch's." Finally it became "OF COURSE Makar
Alexievitch is to blame." Do you see the sequence of things, my
darling? Every mistake was attributed to me, until "Makar
Alexievitch" became a byword in our department. Also, while
making of me a proverb, these fellows could not give me a smile
or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with my uniform,
with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to their
taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from that
day to this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can grow
accustomed to anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable
disposition, like all men of small stature)-- yet