MOSCOW, April 6, 1886.
. . . I am ill. Spitting of blood and weakness. I am not writing anything. . . . If I don’t sit down to write to-morrow, you must forgive me — I shall not send you a story for the Easter number. I ought to go to the South but I have no money. . . . I am afraid to submit myself to be sounded by my colleagues. I am inclined to think it is not so much my lungs as my throat that is at fault. . . . I have no fever.
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