oo late.... What is past cannot be recalled.... Our lives
might have become united, and they never will be united now. How can I
prove to you that I might have loved you with real love--the love of the
heart, not of the fancy--when I do not know myself whether I am capable
of such love?

'Nature has given me much. I know it, and I will not disguise it from
you through false modesty, especially now at a moment so bitter, so
humiliating for me.... Yes, Nature has given me much, but I shall die
without doing anything worthy of my powers, without leaving any trace
behind me. All my wealth is dissipated idly; I do not see the fruits of
the seeds I sow. I am wanting in something. I cannot say myself exactly
what it is I am wanting in.... I am wanting, certainly, in something
without which one cannot move men's hearts, or wholly win a woman's
heart; and to sway men's minds alone is precarious, and an empire ever
unprofitable. A strange, almost farcical fate is mine; I would devote
myself--eagerly and wholly to some cause,--and I cannot devote myself. I
shall end by sacrificing myself to some folly or other in which I shall
not even believe.... Alas! at thirty-five to be still preparing for
something!...

'I have never spoken so openly of myself to any one before--this is my
confession.

'But enough of me. I should like to speak of you, to give you some
advice; I can be no use to you further.... You are still young; but as
long as you live, always follow the impulse of your heart, do not let
it be subordinated to your mind or the mind of others. Believe me, the
simpler, the narrower the circle in which life is passed the better;
the great thing is not to open out new sides, but that all the phases of
life should reach perfection in their own time. "Blessed is he who has
been young in his youth." But I see that this advice applies far more to
myself than to you.

'I confess, Natalya Alexyevna, I am very unhappy. I never deceived
myself as to the nature of the feeling which I inspired in Darya
Mihailovna; but I hoped I had found at least a temporary home.... Now I
must take the chances of the rough world again. What will replace for
me your conversation, your presence, your attentive and intelligent
face?... I myself am to blame; but admit that fate seems to have
designed a jest at my expense. A week ago I did not even myself suspect
that I loved you. The day before yesterday, that evening in the garden,
I for the first time