It won't be long now.
Have patience, pray to God, and sell my diagonal-cloth student's uniform.
And there'll soon be other expenses to be borne of another nature.
Be ready for everything.
The cost of living in Rostov is awful.
I paid Rs. 2.25 for a hotel room.
I haven't enough to get to Baku.
I'll cable you from there if I'm successful.
The weather here is very hot.
I carry my coat around with me.
I'm afraid to leave anything in my room-they'd steal it before you had time to turn around.
The people here are sharp.
I don't like Rostov.
It is considerably inferior to Kharkov in population and geographical position.
But don't worry, Mother.
God willing, we'll take a trip to Moscow together.
Then you'll see it's a completely West European city.
And then we will go to live in Samara near our factory.
Has Vorobyaninov come back?
Where can he be?
Is Estigneyev still having meals?
How's my cassock since it was cleaned?
Make all our friends believe I'm at my aunt's deathbed.
Write the same thing to Gulenka.
Yes!
I forgot to tell you about a terrible thing that happened to me today.
I was gazing at the quiet Don, standing by the bridge and thinking about our future possessions.
Suddenly a wind came up and blew my cap into the river. It was your brother's, the baker's, I was the only one to see it.
I had to make a new outlay and buy an English cap for Rs. 2.50.
Don't tell your brother anything about what happened.
Tell him I'm in Voronezh.
I'm having trouble with my underwear.
I wash it in the evening and if it hasn't dried by the morning, I put it on damp.
It's even pleasant in the present heat.
With love and kisses,
Your husband eternally, Theo.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE HEN AND THE PACIFIC ROOSTER
Persidsky the reporter was busily preparing for the two-hundredth anniversary of the great mathematician Isaac Newton.
While the work was in full swing, Steve came in from Science and Life.
A plump citizeness trailed after him.
"Listen, Persidsky," said Steve, "this citizeness has come to see you about something.
This way, please, lady. The comrade will explain to you."
Chuckling to himself, Steve left.
"Well?" asked Persidsky. "What can I do for you?"
Madame Gritsatsuyev (it was she) fixed her yearning eyes on the reporter and silently handed him a piece of paper.
"So," said Persidsky, "knocked down by a horse . . . What about it?"
"The address," beseeched the widow, "wouldn't it be possible to have the address?"
"Whose address?"
"O.