Tuesday, 25 March 1873

Sunshine, but dust and wind.
Although I should not speak of it — but I want to say that now when I see Boreel, he is for me like everyone else and absolutely nothing more. I should not speak of it, but since it is to strengthen his abandonment. And then I say this so that if I read this journal later, I do not think I suffered for Boreel. He is indifferent to me before God.
[In the margin: In the evening I sang for Maman at the piano. I swear to God not to strain my voice anymore, provided He will preserve it.]
Maman has risen; she is much better. At the promenade (vicuna, a grey veil on the hat) — few people, almost no one.
Today, while we were at dinner, and during my lesson, I thought I heard the sound of his carriage — alas, I could not make certain. How I wish he would come! Let him leave that woman — if she were his alone and if he left her, it could make her unhappy, but it is far from being so. I wish her no harm, if only because he loves her!