A German from Stuttgart sent me fifty marks for a transla- tion of my story. How do you like that? . . .
Keep well and calm. How is your head? Does it ache more or less than it used to? My head doesn't ache as much—because I don't smoke.
My profound respects to Anna Ivanovna and the children.
Your
A. Chekhov
To LYDIA MIZINOVA
March 27, 1894, Yalta
Sweet Lika,
Thank you for the letter. Though you scare me by saying you are going to die soon, and you twit me for throwing you over, thanks anyway. I know perfectly well you aren't going to die and nobody threw you over.
I am in Yalta and at loose ends, very much so. The local aristocracy or whatever you call it is putting on "Faust" and I attend rehearsals, delight in gazing upon a regular flower bed of charming black, red, flaxen and auburn heads, listen to sing- ing and eat; I dine upon deep-fat fried lamb, onion fritters and mutton chops with kasha in the company of the directress of the girls' school; I eat sorrel soup with well-born families; I eat at the pastry shop and at my own hotel as well. I go to bed at ten, get up at ten and rest after dinner, but still I am bored, sweet Lika. I am not bored because I don't have "my women" around, but because the northern spring is better than this one, and the thought that I must, that I am obliged to write, won't leave me a single instant. I must write, write and write. I am of the opinion that real happiness is impossible without idleness. My ideal is to be idle and love a plump young girl. My most intense pleasiire is to walk or sit doing nothing; my favorite occupation is picking useless stuff (leaves, straw and so on) and doing use- less things. Meanwhile I am a literary man and must write, even here in Yalta. Sweet Lika, when you become a great singer and are paid enormous fees, be charitable: marry me and support me, so that I will find it possible to live without work. If you really are going to die, then give the job to Varvara Eberle, whom, as you know, I love. I have worked myself into such a state by continual worry over my obligations and the tasks I can't get out of that I have been tormented for a week without letup by palpitations of the heart. It is a loathesome feeling.
I sold my fox coat for twenty rubles! It cost sixty, but as forty rubles' worth of fur has already shed, twenty rubles was no bargain. The gooseberries haven't ripened yet but it is warm and bright, the trees are in bloom, the sea has a summery look, the young ladies pine for sensations, but still the north is better than the Russian south, at least in spring. . . . Because of the palpitations I haven't had wine now for a week, and because of the lack of wine the local atmosphere strikes me as even sorrier. You were lately in Paris? How are the French? Do you like them? Fire away, then!
l\Iirov gave a concert here and made a net profit of 150 rubles. He roared like a lion but had an enormous success. How ter- ribly sorry I am I didn't study voice; I could have roared, too, as my throat is full of husky notes and people say I have a real octave. I would earn good money and be popular with the ladies.
I won't go to Paris this June, but want you to come to us in Melikhovo—homesickness for Russia will drive you to it. There's no way of getting out of a visit to Russia, even if it's only for a day. You run into Potapenko occasionally. Well, this summer he too is returning to Russia. If you make the trip with him it will cost less. Have him buy your ticket and then forget to pay him (you won't be the first) . But if you won't make the trip, I'll go to Paris. Though I am sure you are coming. . . .
Keep well, Lika, and calm and happy and content. I wish you success. You're a bright girl.
If you want to spoil me with a letter, direct it to Melikhovo, where I shall soon be going. I will answer your letters regularly. I kiss both your hands.
Yours,
A. Chekhov
To ALEXANDER CHEKHOV
May 21,1894, Melikhovo
Ungrateful brother!
I haven't answered for all this time, first, because I am a snob with property of my own, and you are poor; and second, be- cause I didn't know how to reply to the thing you wanted most to know. That's because the same upheavals experienced by "The North" are now taking place at the "Artist" office, and there is no way of figuring who the editor is. Kumanin, who was editing it, has left, handing over the reins to Novikov; and the office itself has moved to Arbat St. Whatever has happened, the paper is still in existence and it is possible to get work on it (I even get my forty rubles monthly) but you won't overeat; all the new contributors are paid a fiver, i.e., fifty per sixteen pages.
The weather is fine. If you are thinking of visiting us, I shall be very much indebted to you; I'll put you to work looking after the young bull and shooing the ducks to the pond. I won't give you a salary, but the board will be on me.
All are in good health. Father philosophizes and grumbles at Mother because "something stuck right here in her throat," etc.
Greetings to the family and keep well. On the other hand, try not to act like a nincompoop.
Your
A. Chekhov
I ha,e put twenty-three rubles in the savings bank. My wealth is accumulating. But you won't get a single kopek of it because you are not mentioned in my will.
To .ALEXEI SUVORIN
July 11, 1894, Melikhovo You wrote you would be here one of these days, so I waited. . . . I don't feel drawn toward Yasnaya Polyana.x My brain func- tions feebly and doesn't want to get any more weighty impres- sions. I would prefer some sea bathing and nonsensical talk.
Here is my plan. The twentieth or twenty-second of July I am going to Taganrog to treat my uncle, who is seriously ill and insists on my sen'ices. He is a truly fine person, the best of men, and I would feel bad about denying him this service although I know it will be futile . . . . After finishing my "Sakhalin" here, and offering thanks to heaven, I will declare my freedom and readiness to go wherever I please. If there is money I will go abroad, or to the Caucasus, or to Bukhara. But I shall doubt- less have some financial difficulties, so that a change of plan is not to be avoided. It would be nice to speak to \Vitte, the Minister of Finance, and tell him that instead of scattering sub-