my beloved makar alexievitch,—it is true that misfortune is following upon misfortune. i myself scarcely know what to do. yet, no matter how you may be fairing, you must not look for help from me, for only today i burned my left hand with the iron! at one and the same moment i dropped the iron, made a mistake in my work, and burned myself! so now i can no longer work. also, these three days past, thedora has been ailing. my anxiety is becoming positively torturous. nevertheless, i send you thirty kopecks—almost the last coins that i have left to me, much as i should have liked to have helped you more when you are so much in need. i feel vexed to the point of weeping. goodbye, dear friend of mine. you will bring me much comfort if only you will come and see me today.

b. d.