The Undiscovered Chekhov

TWO

LETTERS

I.A SERIOUS QUESTION

My dearest uncle Anisim Petrovitch,

Your neighbor Kurosheyev has just been to visit me and informed me, among other things, that Murdashevitch, from next door to you, returned with his family from abroad a few days ago. This bit of news shocked me all the more as it seemed that the Murdashevitches were going to stay abroad forever. My dearest uncle! If you harbor any love in your heart for your humble nephew, then I beg you, dear, dear uncle, to visit Murdashevitch and find out how his ward, Mashenka, is doing. I am laying bare to you the innermost secret of my soul. It is only you alone I trust! I love Mashenka—I love her passionately, more than my life! Six years of separation have not dampened my feelings for her one iota. Is she alive? Is she well? Please write and tell me how she is! Does she remember me? Does she love me like she used to? May I write her a letter? My dear, dear uncle! Please find out and send me all the details.

Tell her that I am no longer the poor and timid student she once knew—I am now a barrister, with a practice of my own, with money. In a word, to achieve perfect happiness in life I need only one thing—her!

I embrace you, and hope for a speedy reply.

Vladimir Gretchnev

II. A DETAILED RESPONSE

My dearest nephew Vladimir,

I received your letter, and went over to see Murdashe- vitch the very next day. What a great fellow he is! He did age a bit abroad, and has gone somewhat gray, but all these years he kept me, his dear old friend, in his heart, and when I entered he embraced me, looked me in the eye for a long time, and said with a timid, tender cry, “Who are you?” When I told him my family name, he embraced me again, and said, “Now it’s all coming back to me!” What a great fellow! As long as I was there, I had a few drinks and a snack, and then we sat down to a few friendly rounds of Preference. He explained to me all kinds of funny things about foreign countries and had me in stitches with all his droll imitations of the Germans and their funny ways. But in science, he told me, the Germans have gone far. He even showed me a picture he bought on his trip through Italy, of this person of the female sex in a rather strange, indecent dress. And I saw Mashenka too. She was wearing a plush pink-colored gown embellished with all kinds of costly bits and bobs. She does remember you, and her eyes even cried a tear or two when she asked about you. She wants you to write to her, and thanks you for your tender memories and feelings. You wrote that you have your own practice and money! My dear boy, do be careful with that money—be moderate and abstinent! When I was a young man I gave myself up to voluptuous excesses—but only for short periods, and with extreme caution—and yet I still repent!

My very best wishes.

Your loving uncle, Anisim Gretchnev

P.S. Your writing is garbled, but has an eloquent and tempting style. I showed your letter to all the neighbors. They thought you a great storyteller! Vladimir, Father Grigory’s son, copied it out so he can send it to a newspaper. I also showed it to Mashenka and her husband, Uhrmacher, the German she married last year. He read it and was full of praise. I am going to show the letter and read it to others, too. You must write more! Murdashevitch’s caviar is very tasty.