Friday, 16 May 1873

Dreadful weather, wind, dust. One can say of what I heard yesterday: Quivi sospiri, pianti ed alti guai / risonavan per l'aer senza stelle, / perch'io al cominciar ne lacrimai.
At the promenade (black dress, pink hat, hair up — good). I asked Maman to come with me to have my travel dress made, but she said: Who do you take me for? Nadinka is ill. I cannot leave her. There was nothing to reply — it is fair; she is ill. I left with Dina and Markevitch. I gave the dress to be made, but not being entirely satisfied with the style, I wanted to fetch Maman to go to the shop. I come home, and what is my astonishment when I learn that Maman has gone to Monaco with those horrors of Anitchkoffs! One cannot go for half an hour with me, leave one's sick sister — but one can leave her for the whole day to go to Monaco with...! It is too much! I was outraged. If someone else had deceived me, it is nothing — but my mother! It is not for the thing as it is, not for the dress; but the action is not good, that is all.
I quickly tell Markevitch to come down, to get into the carriage, and I order Dominique to go to the station, hoping to catch Maman and make her stay — by shaming her. I behaved in the carriage like a madwoman — I laughed, I talked (there was no one about, most fortunately). I was not in my natural state. We arrived; the train had left. Without being at all angry, I have another idea: I go home, take five francs, and go with Markevitch to Rumpelmayer's. We have chocolate; we eat cakes. We laugh like the blessed. I have rewarded myself, since Maman deceived me.
It is settled that Dina, Walitsky, and I are going to Vienna. What happiness! The travel dress is ordered — very pretty.
When this was said at lunch, Mlle Collignon looked very disappointed, mortified, and concealing it as best she could, said:
— That is not possible. How lovely — Dina and Walitsky strolling together, and a little girl will serve as a screen.
The world is wicked! She said it in even more disagreeable terms — it stung me keenly, and I said:
— You are the first wicked one; no one else had that idea. I see all your malice.
That ended it. But I understand Mlle Collignon's discontent well enough: a few days ago the broken Indian, then she had hoped to go to Vienna, to see everything — and now it slips away, along with the position she has. I pity her so. But what can one do? She is broken; she no longer even gets angry — and that is why I pity her all the more.
In Vienna I shall see him — oh! grant it, my God.
[In the margin: M. Savelieff, Mme Patton, and Nathalie were at our house. Nathalie is nice.]
[In the margin: In the morning, Trifon declared that he wanted to go to Russia, for he is in love with the maid who was at the Pattons'. Papa was so moved that he went so far as to promise to have her brought here. Georges and Papa went into a room with Trifon; they talked, promised, etc. I called Georges and spoke to him about it so vigorously that I could scarcely believe myself capable. I spoke to him magnificently (without flattery). I was like actresses toward the end — but naturally, without artifice. I was going mad at the idea of bringing that woman here. To make of our house I know not what. After that, everyone will bring whomever they please! And a domestic — I am horrified. I spoke to everyone about it with extraordinary force and eloquence. I was astonished at myself.]

Notes

"Here sighs, laments, and deep wailings / resounded through the starless air, / so that at first I wept." — Dante, Inferno, III.22–24.