S. Petersburg. The 23 December.
Dear friend! - whatever happens I will name you otherwise never, because it would break the last link that still ties me to the past - and I do not want for anything; as though my future bright to the eye, is empty and flat; I must admit that every day I realize more and more that I will never be good for anything, with all my dreams, and my bad tests in the path of life ... because: or occasionally miss or daring!.. I am told: occasionally happen one day! The experience and the time will give you boldness!.. And who knows, when this will, it will then remain to me something that burning soul and young, god given very badly about me? If my will is not exhausted from wait?.. Finally, if I will not be quite disillusioned anything that forces us to move forward in life?..
I thus began my letter with a confession, really without thinking! - Well, it serves as my excuse: you will see at least, if my character is a little changed, my heart is not. The mere sight of your last letter has been for me a reproach - certainly well deserved; but what could I write to you? - you talk about me? - I really am so jaded about me, when I find myself admiring my own thinking, I try to remember: when I read!.. And because of this I have come not to read, not to think!.. I go in the world now ... to let me know, to prove that I am able to find pleasure in good company; – ah!!!.. I make the court, and following a statement I say impertinent: it still amuses me a little; and although this is not entirely new, at least it is rarely seen!.. You will suppose that sends me after that all good ... well not, on the contrary ... women are doing well; I'm getting the balance with them; Nothing bothers me, or anger, or tenderness: I'm always eager and boiling, with a rather cold heart, which beats only on special occasions: is not it, I have come a long way!.. And do not think this is a boast: I am now the most modest man - and then I know that it will not give me a favorable color to your eyes; but I say, because it is only with you that I may be sincere, it is only you who'll complain without humiliating myself, since I already humiliated myself; if I knew your generosity and good sense I would not have said what I said; and maybe, because once you've calmed down a very keen grief, perhaps, Now will you hunt with sweet words that cold irony creeps into my soul irresistibly, like water into a broken vessel. Oh! How I wanted to see you again, you speak: because it is the focus of your words, which made me feel good; really should be writing to notes above the words; - because now read a letter, it's like watching a portrait: life point, movement point; the expression of a thought immutable, something that smells death!..
- I was in Царское Село when Alexis arrived; when I received the news, I became almost crazy with joy; I surprised myself with myself discoursing, laughing, squeezing my hands each other; I returned to a moment in my past joys, I jumped two terrible years, finally…
I found changed, your brother, he's fat, as I was then, it is pink, - but still serious, pause; Yet we laughed like crazy evening of our interview, - and god knows what?
Tell me, I thought he noticed the tender for m-Miss Catherine Souchkoff ... do you know? - the Mamselle uncles would have liked to marry!.. God forbid!.. This woman is a bat, whose wings cling to everything they encounter! - there was a time she liked, Now it almost forces me to woo her but ..., I do not know, there is something, in his ways, in his voice, something hard, jerky, broken, that repels; while seeking to please him we find pleasure in compromise, to see her embarrassed in his own net.
Write me through, Dear friend, Now that all our different are set, you do not have to complain of me, because I think I was sincere enough, enough subject in this letter to make you forget my crime of lese-friendship!..
I'd like to see you again: at the bottom of this desire, forgive, there lies a selfish thought, is that, close to you, I would find myself, as I once was, confident, full of love and devotion, Finally rich of all goods that men can not deprive us, and that God removed me, his! – Adieu, goodbye - I would go but I can not.
– P. S. My compliments to all those you think proper to do for me ... adieu.
M. AND. Lopukhina (23 December 1834 r. From St. Petersburg to Moscow)
S. Petersburg. The 23 December.