countesses do not greatly occupy themselves with footgear,
especially with the footgear of civil service officials (footgear
may differ from footgear, it must be remembered). Besides, I
should find that the countess had heard all about me, for my
friends would have betrayed me to her--Rataziaev among the first
of them, seeing that he often goes to visit Countess V., and
practically lives at her house. She is said to be a woman of
great intellect and wit. An artful dog, that Rataziaev!

But enough of this. I write this sort of thing both to amuse
myself and to divert your thoughts. Goodbye now, my angel. This
is a long epistle that I am sending you, but the reason is that
today I feel in good spirits after dining at Rataziaev's. There I
came across a novel which I hardly know how to describe to you.
Do not think the worse of me on that account, even though I bring
you another book instead (for I certainly mean to bring one). The
novel in question was one of Paul de Kock's, and not a novel for
you to read. No, no! Such a work is unfit for your eyes. In fact,
it is said to have greatly offended the critics of St.
Petersburg. Also, I am sending you a pound of bonbons--bought
specially for yourself. Each time that you eat one, beloved,
remember the sender. Only, do not bite the iced ones, but suck
them gently, lest they make your teeth ache. Perhaps, too, you
like comfits? Well, write and tell me if it is so. Goodbye,
goodbye. Christ watch over you, my darling!--Always your faithful
friend,

MAKAR DIEVUSHKIN.