Chapter Text
Home of Viktor Mironov.
January 10, 1889.
Anna Viktorovna Mironova.
Dear Anna,
These days since our last meeting have seemed to extend beyond their usual hours, passing ever so slowly. There has been little in the way of criminal activity to occupy myself with. I should rejoice in this, of course. I would not desire a distraction, if it were not for Korobeinikov’s curious and troubled glances. With this idleness and the freedom that accompanies unscripted time, my thoughts are naturally drawn to reminiscing. The simple act of recollecting time in your company summons unfettered joy and inevitably a smile appears on my face, one that concerns Anton Andreievich enough that he has threatened to call Dr. Milts on several occasions.
I have not whiled away the hours solely in a contemplative manner. I have trod pathways through the streets, stopping in at the tailors and the millinery, ostensibly for the purposes of getting fresh air, a bit of exercise, and to observe what is going on about town. But, in truth, I am hoping to happen upon you, Anna.
Passing by the now familiar shops and homes, even the abandoned ones, I readily remember past conversations, arguments, and some frightful moments that we have shared. In my current mood, however, they engender only feelings of lightness. These moments have attached themselves to my heart in a way that stirs me, causes me to view the world with a kinder eye.
I have paid several visits to Antonina Benetsianova. As you are most assuredly aware, Vania has settled in quite well. He is doted upon, to an extent that one might worry over the affect this will have on his character. But perhaps it will balance against the abuse he was subjected to at the hands of the maidservant and her partner. The change in Benetsianova’s health and disposition is substantial enough as to be almost miraculous. Taking in Vania may prove to benefit her even more than her charity has benefited the boy.
But here, too, I have not acted on behalf of the police, or out of some generosity. No, the memory of our most recent encounter there tempts me to return. I tell myself that it is a courtesy call, that I have an interest in how Vania and Mrs. Benetsianova are proceeding. But those are all falsehoods. I wish to arrive when you are present, giving Vania his lessons. The chance that I might enjoin you in conversation or be the beneficiary of your sweet gaze are what compel me.
I eagerly await your return correspondence and look forward to our next encounter.
Your truly,
Yakov Platonovich.