have no money.... I am afraid to submit myself to be sounded by my
colleagues. I am inclined to think it is not so much my lungs as my throat
that is at fault.... I have no fever.




TO MADAME M. V. KISELYOV.

BABKINO,
June, 1886.


LOVE UNRIPPLED [Footnote: Parody of a feminine novel.]

(A NOVEL) Part I.

It was noon.... The setting sun with its crimson, fiery rays gilded
the tops of pines, oaks, and fir-trees.... It was still; only in the
air the birds were singing, and in the distance a hungry wolf howled
mournfully.... The driver turned round and said:

"More snow has fallen, sir."

"What?"

"I say, more snow has fallen."

"Ah!"