“My heart’s treasure, my angel Nástia. I would like to know why you did not send me the last kiss. Cupid the thief has wounded my heart with his arrow. I suffer greatly, my heart’s blood is frozen.”
A heart was drawn with blood instead of ink between the lines, the same was pierced by two arrows; red spots stood for drops of blood.
Then followed verses probably copied from somewhere—
Remember Joy, our merry talk,
Sweet words during every walk,
How long is it since last I saw thee?
Come my fair dove, come fly to me.
Should my wish be not in vain,
Mad with joy I’d be again.
Having read the love letter, Nástia carefully rolled it up, hid it again in her bosom, hung her head and covered her face with a handkerchief, scented with “Cupid’s sighs.”