Chapter IV: From Alexyéi Petróvitch to Márya Alexándrovna

PETERSBURG, April 7th.

I write again to you, although I foresee that, without your approval, I shall speedily hold my peace. I must admit that you cannot fail to feel a certain distrust of me. What of that? Perhaps you are right. Formerly I would have declared to you (and, probably, would have believed my own words) that, since we parted, I had “developed,” had advanced; with condescending, almost affectionate scorn I would have referred to my past; with touching boastfulness I would have initiated you into the secrets of my present, active life ... but now, I assure you, Márya Alexándrovna, I consider it shameful and disgusting to allude to the way in which my vile self-love once on a time fermented and amused itself. Fear not: I shall not force upon you any great truths, any profound views; I have none--none of those truths and views. I have become a nice fellow,--truly I have. I’m bored, Márya Alexándrovna--so bored that I can endure it no longer. That is why I am writing to you.... Really, it seems to me that we can come to an agreement....

However, I positively am in no condition to talk to you until you stretch out your hand to me, until I receive from you a note with the one word “Yes.”--Márya Alexándrovna, will you hear me out?--that is the question.

Yours truly, A. S.

V

_From Márya Alexándrovna to Alexyéi Petróvitch_

VILLAGE OF ... NO, April 14.

What a strange man you are! Well, then--“yes.”

MÁRYA B***.