Chapter 29 - Page 2

ought to give more than two to my landlady, but you must remember
my necessities, and see for yourself that that is the most that
can be assigned to her. We need say no more about it. For one
rouble I shall buy me a new pair of shoes, for I scarcely know
whether my old ones will take me to the office tomorrow morning.
Also, a new neck-scarf is indispensable, seeing that the old one
has now passed its first year; but, since you have promised to
make of your old apron not only a scarf, but also a shirt-front,
I need think no more of the article in question. So much for
shoes and scarves. Next, for buttons. You yourself will agree
that I cannot do without buttons; nor is there on my garments a
single hem unfrayed. I tremble when I think that some day his
Excellency may perceive my untidiness, and say--well, what will
he NOT say? Yet I shall never hear what he says, for I shall have
expired where I sit--expired of mere shame at the thought of
having been thus exposed. Ah, dearest! . . . Well, my various
necessities will have left me three roubles to go on with. Part
of this sum I shall expend upon a half-pound of tobacco--for I
cannot live without tobacco, and it is nine days since I last put
a pipe into my mouth. To tell the truth, I shall buy the tobacco
without acquainting you with the fact, although I ought not so to
do. The pity of it all is that, while you are depriving yourself
of everything, I keep solacing myself with various amenities--
which is why I am telling you this, that the pangs of conscience
may not torment me. Frankly, I confess that I am in desperate
straits--in such straits as I have never yet known. My landlady
flouts me, and I enjoy the respect of noone; my arrears and debts
are terrible; and in the office, though never have I found the
place exactly a paradise, noone has a single word to say to me.
Yet I hide, I carefully hide, this from every one. I would hide
my person in the same way, were it not that daily I have to
attend the office where I have to be constantly on my guard
against my fellows. Nevertheless, merely to be able to CONFESS
this to you renews my spiritual strength. We must not think of
these things, Barbara, lest the thought of them break our
courage. I write them down merely to warn you NOT to think of
them, nor to torture yourself with bitter imaginings. Yet, my
God, what is to become of us? Stay where you are until I can come
to you; after which I shall not return hither, but simply
disappear. Now I have finished my letter, and must go and shave
myself, inasmuch as, when that is done, one always feels more
decent, as well as consorts more easily with decency. God speed
me! One prayer to Him, and I must be off.

M.