I have sent you to-day two stories: Filippov’s (he was here yesterday) and Yezhov’s. I have not had time to read the latter, and I think it is as well to say, once for all, that I am not responsible for what I send you. My handwriting on the address does not mean that I like the story.

Poor Yezhov has been to see me; he sat near the table crying: his young wife is in consumption. He must take her at once to the south. To my question whether he had money he answered that he had.... It’s vile catch-cold weather; the sky itself is sneezing. I can’t bear to look at it.... I have already begun writing of Sahalin. I have written five pages. It reads all right, as though written with intelligence and authority ... I quote foreign authors second-hand, but minutely and in a tone as though I could speak every foreign language perfectly. It’s regular swindling.

Yezhov has upset me with his tears. He reminded me of something, and I was sorry for him too.

Don’t forget us sinners.