Poor Folk

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translated by

CJ Hogarth




April 8th

MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,--How happy I was last night--how
immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in
your life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about
eight o'clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that
I always like to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)--I
awoke, I say, and, lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write,
and trimmed my pen. Then suddenly, for some reason or another, I
raised my eyes--and felt my very heart leap within me! For you
had understood what I wanted, you had understood what my heart
was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner of the curtain in
your window had been looped up and fastened to the cornice as I
had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your dear
face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at
me from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were
thinking of me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish
your sweet face clearly! For there was a time when you and I
could see one another without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but