from my eyes. I went home, I
flung myself, in dreadful grief, on my mother's bosom.

LETTER FROM MAKAR DYEVUSHKIN TO VARVARA ALEXIEVNA DOBROSYELOFF

SEPTEMBER 9TH.

_My dear Varvara Alexievna!_

I am quite beside myself as I write this. I am utterly upset by a most
terrible occurrence. My head is whirling. I feel as though everything
were turning in dizzy circles round about me. Ah, my dearest, what a
thing I have to tell you now! We had not even a presentiment of such a
thing. No, I don't believe that I did not have a presentiment--I
foresaw it all. My heart forewarned me of this whole thing! I even
dreamed of something like it not long ago.

This is what has happened! I will relate it to you without attempting
fine style, and as the Lord shall put it into my soul. I went to the
office to-day. When I arrived, I sat down and began to write. But you
must know, my dear, that I wrote yesterday also. Well, yesterday
Timofei Ivan'itch came to me, and was pleased to give me a personal
order. "Here's a document that is much needed," says he, "and we're in
a hurry for it. Copy it, Makar Alexievitch," says he, "as quickly and
as neatly and carefully as possible: it must be handed in for
signature to-day." I must explain to you, my angel, that I was not
quite myself yesterday, and didn't wish to look at anything; such
sadness and depression had fallen upon me! My heart was cold, my mind
was dark; you filled all my memory, and incessantly, my poor darling.
Well, so I set to work on the copy; I wrote clearly and well, only,--I
don't know exactly how to describe it to you, whether the Evil One
himself tangled me up, or whether it was decreed by some mysterious
fate, or simply whether it was bound to happen so, but I omitted a
whole line, and the sense was utterly ruined. The Lord only knows what
sense there was--simply none whatever. They were late with the papers
yesterday, so they only gave this document to his Excellency for
signature this morning. To-day I presented myself at the usual hour,
as though nothing at all were the matter, and set myself down
alongside Emelyan Ivanovitch.

I must tell you, my dear, that lately I have become twice as
shamefaced as before, and more mortified. Of late I have ceased to
look at any one. As soon as any one's chair squeaks, I am more dead
than alive. So to-day I crept in, slipped humbly into my seat, and
sat there all doubled up