At two o’clock in the afternoon I started to find Fidèle and interrogate her. I can’t endure cabbage; and all the little provision shops in Myeshchànskaya Street simply reek of it; and then there’s such a stench from the yard of every house, that I simply held my nose and ran along as fast as ever I could. And then those confounded artizans send out such a lot of soot and smoke from their workshops, that really there’s no walking in the street. When I got up to the sixth floor and rang the bell, there came out a girl, not bad-looking, with little freckles. I recognised her; it was the same girl who had walked with the old lady. She grew a bit red, and it flashed upon me at once, “You want a lover, my dear.” “What can I do for you?” “I must have an interview with your lap-dog.” The girl was stupid; I saw at once she was stupid. At that moment the dog ran out, barking. I wanted to catch her, but the nasty little thing nearly snapped my nose off. However, I saw her basket in the corner. Ah! that was what I wanted. I went up to it, turned over the straw, and, to my immense delight, pulled out a little packet of tiny papers. Seeing that, the horrid little dog first bit me in the calf of the leg; and then, realising that I had got the papers, began to whine and fawn on me; but I said, “No, my dear! Good-bye!” and rushed away. I think the girl took me for a maniac, for she was terribly frightened. When I got home I wanted to set to work at once and read the letters, because my sight is not very good by candle-light. But of course Mavra had taken it into her head to wash the floor; these idiotic Finns are always cleaning at the wrong time. So I went for a walk to think over the occurrence. Now at last I shall find out all their affairs, all their thoughts, all the wires they are pulled by; these letters will disclose everything to me. Dogs are a clever race, they understand all the political relations; and so, no doubt, everything will be here—this man’s portrait and all his affairs. And no doubt there will be something about Her, who.... Never mind; silence! In the evening, I came home. I spent the time lying on my bed. _November 13th._ Now let us see! The letter is fairly legible; but, somehow or other, there is something a little bit doggish about the handwriting. Let’s see:— MY DEAR FIDÈLE,—I still have not been able to accustom myself to your vulgar name. Why couldn’t they find a better name for you? Fidèle, Rosa, what bad taste! However, this is off the point. I am very glad that we have agreed to correspond. The letter is quite correctly written; there are no mistakes in the stopping, or even in the use of the letter _yat’_. Why, the chief of the section can’t write as well as that, although he talks about having been educated in the University. Let’s see further on:—