And now a plain question: Have you seen Tolstoy? I have only to-day received the letter he sent me in September through Davídof's bookshop (how accurate are our Russian merchants!). In this letter he speaks of his intention to insult me, and apologises, etc. And almost at that very time, in consequence of some gossip about which I think I wrote you, I sent him a challenge. From all this one must conclude that our constellations move through space in definitely hostile conjunction, and that therefore we had better, as he himself says, avoid meeting. But you may write or tell him (if you see him) that I (without phrase or joke) _from afar_ love him very much, respect him and watch his fate with sympathetic interest; but that in proximity all takes a different turn. What's to be done? We must live as though we inhabited different planets or different centuries. Tolstoy evidently took umbrage at Tourgénef's message, and visited his wrath on Fet's innocent head. To be profoundly humble and forgiving at his own command, was always, it seems, easier for Tolstoy than to let his opponent have an opinion of his own. Tolstoy likes things to be quite clear-cut and definite, and it complicates matters to have to reckon with any one else's views. At any rate Tourgénef writes: PARIS, _14 Jan. [o.s.?] 1862_. DEAREST AFANÁSY AFANÁSYEVITCH! [Fet's Christian name and patronymic].--First of all I must ask your pardon for the quite unexpected tile (_tuile_, as the French say) that tumbled on your head as a result of my letter. The one thing which somewhat consoles me is that I could not possibly have expected such a freak on Tolstoy's part, and thought I was arranging all for the best. It seems it is a wound of a kind better not touched at all.