Calligraphy Lesson Read Online Free PDF

about someone, and I’ll tell you exactly what kind of handwriting that person has.
    So start on me.
    You are magnificent. You are extraordinary. You have no idea how wonderful you are. And your handwriting, Tatiana Dmitrievna, is pure, fresh, childlike. The letters actually get bigger as they approach the end of the line.
    You mustn’t go on like that, Evgeny Alexandrovich! You’re much too kind. Just look at a bit of my writing. Take this. No, better this. No, don’t. Never mind about my handwriting. You’re nothing but a sly widower, chasing after me, and now you’re spinning tales for this gullible, simplehearted woman. I can see right through you even without any handwriting. After all, you aren’t indifferent toward me, isn’t that so? Well then, declare your love right now, this instant. Not that any of this matters. Better not to say anything.
    Just think, it’s been eight whole years since my Olya’s been gone. I’m not saying she died, of course. I haven’t told anyone about this since it happened, but I’ll tell you. She and I had been through so much, but for better or worse we’d survived it all together, and suddenly I found myself living with a complete stranger, someone I didn’t know at all. At one point Olya’s right eye started to dim and she started going blind. I took her to Moscow, found a specialist, and they operated. Thank God, she recovered. After that, every six months, and later even more often, she went back for checkups. Whenever I asked, she would say everything was fine, but it felt like she was leaving something out. I was afraid Olya was going blind and wasn’t telling me. She’d changed a lot. She was withdrawn, got annoyed over the least thing, and often cried at night. Before, she’d loved to read Kolya his little books in the evening; now she wouldn’t touch them. I was frightened. I wanted to help somehow, realized there was nothing I could do, and loved her all the more because of it. And then one day at dinner Olya was pouring tea and the china teapot broke right in her hands. We got splashed and jumped up, at which point Olya started screaming that she couldn’t go on like this, that she hated herself but she hated me even more, that she didn’t go to Moscow to see any specialist but to see a man who loved her and whom she loved. I was having a hard time understanding what she was saying. “What do youwant?” I asked. “I want to not see you!” Olya started screaming again. “I’d rather hang myself, but I’m not going to go on living like this. I’m leaving you for him. I love him.” “And Kolya? What about Kolya?” She started to weep. “But this whole thing is impossible,” I said. “I can’t live without Kolya, nor Kolya without you. You want to abandon your son? Kolya can’t go through his whole life being ashamed of his mother and despising her. That’s not going to happen. It can’t.” “I know,” I heard in reply, “you wish I were dead! Fine! I’ll die!” She jumped up and ran out of the room. I tried to hold her back. “That’s crazy! Stop it!” She broke away and locked herself in her room. I got scared and started pounding on the door, but Olya suddenly opened it and in an almost calm voice said, “You don’t have to break the door down. Everything’s fine.” The next day at breakfast, in front of Kolya, she announced there was something wrong with her eyes again and she was going to the clinic in Moscow tomorrow. What could I say? Kolya and I went to see his mama off at the station. Olya was crying and kept kissing and hugging Kolya. The boy kept breaking away and asking her to bring him back a rifle. The next morning a telegram arrived from Ryazan. Olya had fallen ill en route. She’d been taken off the train and had died right there at the station. The