The greatest misfortune has happened to me. It has taken me four days to pluck up sufficient courage to write it. I ought to have foreseen that it would happen. I ought to have known by the way business was decreasing, and the general difficulties attending it, that it was bound to come, but my wanton blindness made me trust, and kept me from worrying. Our bank has gone smash, and the office is closed. Our chief died suddenly. They say he killed himself, and that the family are keeping it dark. All the employees were paid off. Those who, like myself, had been with the firm for a long time, were generously treated and received a full month’s salary. It was certainly generous, considering the complete failure of the house. + 

What shall I do now to support myself and the children? The question is more alarming than the coming of the Germans. The Germans may or may not come, we do not know, but here am I faced by this fact. In a very little time the children and I will be starving. + 

I haven’t told Sashenka yet; I dare not; I can’t find the words with which to do it decently. At home no one knows. I leave the house at the usual time in the morning and wander about the streets, dodging acquaintances or sitting in the Taurida Garden. At five I return home as though from the office. I must think of some plan; I must make up my mind what to do. + 