"Lubotshka had meant to write to you herself, but she has torn up three
sheets of paper, saying: 'I know what a quizzer Papa always is. If he
were to find a single fault in my letter he would show it to everybody.'
Katenka is as charming as usual, and Mimi, too, is good, but tiresome.

"Now let me speak of more serious matters. You write to me that your
affairs are not going well this winter, and that you wish to break into
the revenues of Chabarovska. It seems to me strange that you should
think it necessary to ask my consent. Surely what belongs to me belongs
no less to you? You are so kind-hearted, dear, that, for fear of
worrying me, you conceal the real state of things, but I can guess that
you have lost a great deal at cards, as also that you are afraid of my
being angry at that. Yet, so long as you can tide over this crisis, I
shall not think much of it, and you need not be uneasy, I have grown
accustomed to no longer relying, so far as the children are concerned,
upon your gains at play, nor yet--excuse me for saying so--upon your
income. Therefore your losses cause me as little anxiety as your gains
give me pleasure. What I really grieve over is your unhappy passion
itself for gambling--a passion which bereaves me of part of your tender
affection and obliges me to tell you such bitter truths as (God knows
with what pain) I am now telling you. I never cease to beseech Him that
He may preserve us, not from poverty (for what is poverty?), but from
the terrible juncture which would arise should the interests of the
children, which I am called upon to protect, ever come into collision
with our own. Hitherto God has listened to my prayers. You have never
yet overstepped the limit beyond which we should be obliged either
to sacrifice property which would no longer belong to us, but to the
children, or--It is terrible to think of, but the dreadful misfortune
at which I hint is forever hanging over our heads. Yes, it is the heavy
cross which God has given us both to carry.