Fyodor Dostoevsky

“ Before you there lie the Steppes, my darling--only the Steppes, the naked Steppes, the Steppes that are as bare as the palm of my hand. There there live only heartless old women and rude peasants and drunkards. THERE the trees have already shed their leaves. There there abide but rain and cold. Why should you go thither? True, Monsieur Bwikov will have his diversions in that country--he will be able to hunt the hare; but what of yourself? Do you wish to become a mere estate lady? ”

“ Your heart will soon have become chilled and sick and depressed. Grief will soon have sucked away its life; grief will soon have rent it in twain! Yes, you will die where you be, and be laid to rest in the cold, moist earth where there is no one to bewail you. Monsieur Bwikov will only be hunting hares! ”

“ They are so much rubbish. One should consider human life rather than mere finery.
Nevertheless, as soon as I have received my next instalment of salary I mean to buy you a new cloak. I mean to buy it at a shop with which I am acquainted. Only, you must wait until my next installment is due, my angel of a Barbara. Ah, God, my God! To think that you are going away into the Steppes with Monsieur Bwikov--that you are going away never to return! . . . Nay, nay, but you shall write to me. You shall write me a letter as soon as you have started, even if it be your last letter of all, my dearest. ”