'Is this wise?' he said.

'Yes,' she told him.

He turned on his heel and made a smart withdrawal.

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him hisbehaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of hiscareer. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

She ran her linger down into the envelope and pulledthe letter out. The paper was pale yellow, and gossamer-thin.

'A few hours after he died, this letter was deliveredhere by hand,' she said. 'It was addressed to him. Iopened it. I think you ought to read it.'

She passed it to him. The hand it was written in wassolid and unaffected.

Dorothea, he had written, if you are reading this, then Iam dead.

You know how little store I set by dreams andpremonitions and such; but for the last few days strangethoughts have just crept into my head, and I have thesuspicion that death is very close to me. If so, so. There'sno help for it. Don't waste time trying to puzzle out the whysand wherefores; they're old news now. Just know that I loveyou, and that I have always loved you in my way. I'm sorryfor whatever unhappiness I've caused, or am causing now,but it was out of my hands.

I have some instructions regarding the disposal of mybody. Please adhere to them to the letter. Don't let anybodytry to persuade you out of doing as I ask.

I want you to have my body watched night and dayuntil I'm cremated. Don't try and take my remains back toEurope. Have me cremated here, as soon as possible, thenthrow the ashes in the East River.

My sweet darling, I'm afraid. Not of bad dreams, or ofwhat might happen to me in this life, but of what my enemiesmay try to do once I'm dead. You know how critics can be:they wait until you can't fight them back, then they start thecharacter assassinations. It's too long a business to try andexplain all of this, so I must simply trust you to do as I say.