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Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

Letters of Anton Chekhov (Tchekhov) - Penn State University

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<strong>Anton</strong> <strong>Chekhov</strong>TO O. L. KNIPPER.YALTA, February 14, 1900.DEAR ACTRESS,The photographs are very, very good, especially the one in whichyou are leaning in dejection with your elbows on the back <strong>of</strong> a chair,which gives you a discreetly mournful, gentle expression under whichthere lies hid a little demon. The other is good too, but it looks alittle like a Jewess, a very musical person who attends a conservatoire,but at the same time is studying dentistry on the sly as a secondstring, and is engaged to be married to a young man in Mogilev,and whose fiance is a person like M——. Are you angry? Really,really angry? It’s my revenge for your not signing them.Of the seventy roses I planted in the autumn only three have nottaken root. Lilies, irises, tulips, tuberoses, hyacinths, are all pushingout <strong>of</strong> the ground. The willow is already green. By the little seat inthe corner the grass is luxuriant already. The almond-tree is in blossom.I have put little seats all over the garden, not grand ones withiron legs, but wooden ones which I paint green. I have made threebridges over the stream. I am planting palms. In fact, there are allsorts <strong>of</strong> novelties, so much so that you won’t know the house, or thegarden, or the street. Only the owner has not changed, he is just thesame moping creature and devoted worshipper <strong>of</strong> the talents thatreside at Nikitsky Gate.* I have heard no music nor singing sincethe autumn, I have not seen one interesting woman. How can Ihelp being melancholy?I had made up my mind not to write to you, but since you havesent the photographs I have taken <strong>of</strong>f the ban, and here you see Iam writing. I will even come to Sevastopol, only I repeat, don’t tellthat to anyone, especially not to Vishnevsky. I shall be there incognito,I shall put myself down in the hotel-book Count Blackphiz.I was joking when I said that you were like a Jewess in your photograph.Don’t be angry, precious one. Well, herewith I kiss yourlittle hand, and remain unalterably yours.*O. L. Knipper was living at Nikitsky Gate.399

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