Monday, 9 June 1873

I have begun to study drawing seriously.
Apartments again. The very word is beginning, quite simply, to disgust me. My aunt and I took a cab and went in search of somewhere to live. Up and down, down and up! We climbed some twenty staircases without success. There are several things that might suit us, but we cannot make up our minds (this paper drinks). I came home around five, changed my dress (grey cloth dress, very good; my face tired all these days) to go try on the blue dress, but we found the shop closed for a death. I am still very tired; I feel limp, incapable of working — summers in Nice are killing me. I am bored, there is no one, the heat frays my nerves, I am vexed, I am bored, and at every moment ready to weep. This ruins my character, my health, my appearance — everything! I suffer! My God! My God! Make me leave Nice, in the name of the Holy Virgin and our Saviour! I have not a minute’s rest. Oh! Lord, save me!!! One lives but once. To spend the summers here is death! It is losing half one’s life! I am weeping now; a tear has fallen on the paper. Oh! if Maman and the others knew what it costs me to remain here, they would surely not keep me in this dreadful desert. I am losing my health from the continual agitation, the boredom, the... I know not what. When one is agitated like this, one always ages before one’s time — one grows spiteful!
In the name of all I hold most dear in the world, I beseech You, my God, to calm me, to restore my peace.
in the margin
I took a sea bath.
Nothing about him concerns me any more; it is so long since I have heard anything that he seems dead to me. And then I am in a fog — I can barely recall the past; the future seems hideous! I am entirely changed: my complexion has darkened, my hair too; I have grown thin; my eyes are sunken, with bags beneath them; my lips pale, my voice hoarse. I am ugly — very ugly. Before, when I woke I was pink and white, fresh. Now! But what is gnawing at me so? What has happened to me? What will happen to me? Once more I beg Thee not to punish me for my caprices and my rudeness to my mother and the rest!
It seems to me a voice tells me to change, or it will be too late. I shall be punished if I do not change. I shall bear everything. I shall be good, gentle — only help me in this, my God!
Tchernikoff, Mme Teplakoff, Daniloff, and I know not who else came. I did not go out; then everyone went to Monaco except Papa and me.