Poor Folk E-Book

Fyodor Dostoevsky

• Herausgeber: Publisher s24148
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Written in the form of letters, it recounts a blossoming romance amid St. Petersburg's slums between a middle-aged writer and a much younger seamstress.

Leseprobe

Poor Folk

Fyodor Dostoevsky

(Translator: CJ Hogarth)

 Published by OPU, 2017

Table of Contents

Poor Folk

April 8th

April 9th

April 12th

April 25th

May 20th

June 1st

June 11th

June 12th

June 20th

June 21st

June 22nd

June 25th

June 26th

June 27th

June 28th

July 1st

July 7th

July 8th

July 27th

July 28th

July 29th

August 1st

August 2nd

August 3rd

August 4th

August 5th

August 11th

August 13th

August 14th

August 19th

August 21th

September 3rd

September 5th

September 9th

September 10th

September 11th

September 15th

September 18th

September 19th

September 23rd

September 27th

September 28th

September 29th

September 30th

April 8th

MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA,—How happy I was last night—how immeasurably, how impossibly happy! That was because for once in your life you had relented so far as to obey my wishes. At about eight o'clock I awoke from sleep (you know, my beloved one, that I always like to sleep for a short hour after my work is done)—I awoke, I say, and, lighting a candle, prepared my paper to write, and trimmed my pen. Then suddenly, for some reason or another, I raised my eyes—and felt my very heart leap within me! For you had understood what I wanted, you had understood what my heart was craving for. Yes, I perceived that a corner of the curtain in your window had been looped up and fastened to the cornice as I had suggested should be done; and it seemed to me that your dear face was glimmering at the window, and that you were looking at me from out of the darkness of your room, and that you were thinking of me. Yet how vexed I felt that I could not distinguish your sweet face clearly! For there was a time when you and I could see one another without any difficulty at all. Ah me, but old age is not always a blessing, my beloved one! At this very moment everything is standing awry to my eyes, for a man needs only to work late overnight in his writing of something or other for, in the morning, his eyes to be red, and the tears to be gushing from them in a way that makes him ashamed to be seen before strangers. However, I was able to picture to myself your beaming smile, my angel—your kind, bright smile; and in my heart there lurked just such a feeling as on the occasion when I first kissed you, my little Barbara. Do you remember that, my darling? Yet somehow you seemed to be threatening me with your tiny finger. Was it so, little wanton? You must write and tell me about it in your next letter.