Dec. 29, '09.
O, Clara, Clara dear, I am so glad she is out of it and safe--safe! I am
not melancholy; I shall never be melancholy again, I think. You see, I
was in such distress when I came to realize that you were gone far away
and no one stood between her and danger but me--and I could die at any
moment, and then--oh then what would become of her! For she was wilful,
you know, and would not have been governable.

You can't imagine what a darling she was, that last two or three days;
and how fine, and good, and sweet, and noble-and joyful, thank Heaven!
--and how intellectually brilliant. I had never been acquainted with
Jean before. I recognized that.

But I mustn't try to write about her--I can't. I have already poured my
heart out with the pen, recording that last day or two.

I will send you that--and you must let no one but Ossip read it.

Good-bye.
I love you so!
And Ossip.
FATHER.


The writing mentioned in the last paragraph was his article 'The Death of
Jean,' his last serious writing, and one of the world's most beautiful
examples of elegiac prose.--[Harper's Magazine, Dec., 1910,] and later in
the volume, 'What Is Man and Other Essays.'