Alex--love is a strange thing.
I don't mind it at all! You never knew it. You never loved your poor
Maroossia: she was your comfort--that's all. You never thought of
Lucie de Clive as such: for you--she was a little girl that possibly
might have been in your way, but you let her stay because she
comforted you. Now--she is going, and very likely you won't see her
any more. In your life--she was a page of a book; now you've read
it!..."
She was crying, really crying! Such an actress!
36
I came home at seven from the village--nobody in there! Nobody to
give me my tea. All looks empty, abandoned. On the bed pinned to the
pillow,--a note: "Good-by." My companion left me--today. And I had so
much to say to her....
She did not forget to look in my bag before leaving, as I see. I
thought so.
My diary _has been censored:_ many pages are missing and some rough
hand-made corrections in the text have been made leaving greasy spots
on the paper. Some of my documents are stolen. I don't see the letter
from Marchenko to Schmelin, the chart with Mamaev's stations, and a
few others. Fortunately, Kerensky's letter to Grimm was not taken, as
I had put it under the floor of the barn with my money and watch.
She must have had the help of the man with the specs--she would not
be able to understand my scratching. They must have been busy all day!
But what really gets me wild--almost all of my letters to Goroshkin
are here! How did she get them? I understand why Goroshkin's letters
missed me--she got them!.
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