my beloved barbara alexievna,—all is well as regards the jeweller. unfortunately, i have also to say that i myself have fallen ill, and cannot rise from bed. just when so many things need to be done, i have gone and caught a chill, the devil take it! also i have to tell you that, to complete my misfortunes, his excellency has been pleased to become stricter. today he railed at and scolded emelia ivanovitch until the poor fellow was quite put about. that is the sum of my news. no—there is something else concerning which i should like to write to you, but am afraid to obtrude upon your notice. i am a simple, dull fellow who writes down whatsoever first comes into his head—your friend,

makar dievushkin.