a terrible misfortune. Yes, it is a heavy cross the Lord has sent us both.
"You are writing me about the children, and return to our old quarrel: you ask my permission to send them to some educational establishment. You know my prejudice against such an education.
"I do not know, my dear one, whether you will agree with me; in any case, I implore you, for the sake of our love, to promise me that as long as I am alive, and after my death, if it shall please God to separate us, this shall not happen.
"You tell me that it will be necessary for you to go to St. Petersburg about our affairs. Christ be with you, my friend! go and come back as soon as possible! We all feel very lonely without you. The spring is remarkably fine; the balcony door has already been put out; the path in the greenhouse was completely dry four days ago; the peaches are in full bloom; only here and there patches of snow are left; the swallows have returned; and to-day Lyúbochka has brought me the first spring flowers. The doctor says that in three or four days I shall be quite well again, and able to breathe the fresh air, and warm myself in the April sun. Good-bye, my dear one! Please, do not worry, neither about my illness nor about your losses; settle your affairs as soon as possible, and come back to us with the children for the whole summer. I am making wonderful plans as to how we are going to pass it, and you only are wanting to materialize them."
The following part of the letter was in French, in a closely written and uneven hand, and upon a different piece of paper. I translate it word for word:
"Don't believe what I am writing you about my illness; nobody suspects to what degree it is serious. I alone know that I shall never rise from bed again. Do
