say that I lived an upright life--so much so that at last I
incurred persecution. This you may not believe, but it is true.
To think that men so cruel should exist! For though, dearest one,
I am dull and of no account, I have feelings like everyone else.
Consequently, would you believe it, Barbara, when I tell you what
these cruel fellows did to me? I feel ashamed to tell it you--and
all because I was of a quiet, peaceful, good-natured disposition!

Things began with "this or that, Makar Alexievitch, is your
fault." Then it went on to "I need hardly say that the fault is
wholly Makar Alexievitch's." Finally it became "OF COURSE Makar
Alexievitch is to blame." Do you see the sequence of things, my
darling? Every mistake was attributed to me, until "Makar
Alexievitch" became a byword in our department. Also, while
making of me a proverb, these fellows could not give me a smile
or a civil word. They found fault with my boots, with my uniform,
with my hair, with my figure. None of these things were to their
taste: everything had to be changed. And so it has been from that
day to this. True, I have now grown used to it, for I can grow
accustomed to anything (being, as you know, a man of peaceable
disposition, like all men of small stature)-- yet why should
these things be? Whom have I harmed? Whom have I ever supplanted?
Whom have I ever traduced to his superiors? No, the fault is that
more than once I have asked for an increase of salary. But have I
ever CABALLED for it? No, you would be wrong in thinking so, my
dearest one. HOW could I ever have done so? You yourself have had
many opportunities of seeing how incapable I am of deceit or
chicanery.

Why then, should this have fallen to my lot? . . . However, since