Here is my unopened letter which she sent me back yesterday, here on the table under the book, under _L'Homme qui rit_.

What is it to me that she's wearing herself out over Nikolay! _Je m'en fiche, et je proclame ma liberte! Au diable le Karmazinov! Au diable la Lembke!_ I've hidden the vases in the entry, and the Teniers in the chest of drawers, and I have demanded that she is to see me at once.

Do you hear.

I've insisted! I've sent her just such a scrap of paper, a pencil scrawl, unsealed, by Nastasya, and I'm waiting.

I want Darya Pavlovna to speak to me with her own lips, before the face of Heaven, or at least before you.