Tuesday, 1 July 1873

For several days already Grand-papa has been speaking to me about his will; I did not believe it was serious. Yet he would do well, for one never knows what may happen. Only yesterday he asked me to be free today and to buy paper. First thing in the morning I did so; after lunch, seeing that Papa did not ask for me, I told him myself that I am free and everything is ready.
We went therefore to his room and he dictated to me. I must admit it is a great honour for me. Where has anyone ever had his will written out by a girl of fourteen? It is not foolishness, then, but a truth: I am not like everyone else. My heart beat a little when I began, for it is such a serious and important thing — the destiny of all his children. He himself was agitated; I could see it from his voice, and then he began to walk quickly about the room. He gives a part of the estate, the house with its library and the paintings (which he has given me ten times over, as well as the library — but what does it matter!) to Georges; to Maman also a small estate of two hundred hectares, I believe, and a forest adjoining her land. The rest will be divided according to the law — that is, equally among all the brothers. Married daughters by law receive nothing, unless it is stated in the will. He has made provisions for all he acquired himself, but the lands he received by inheritance cannot be given away by a will — they are divided according to the law. But Papa will give promissory notes to Maman, and in this way everything is arranged. There is always a means of bestowing an inheritance. One always finds ways. To my aunt he gives nothing for the present; he says she has no need, with all the fortune her husband left her. Besides, if the lawsuit goes against her, he will give her promissory notes for thirty thousand roubles, as well as to Maman. It is very little, I think, since the fortune amounts to several millions of francs.
But one must never grumble; I repented of it, and besides, God may punish those who are never satisfied.
We played croquet in the evening — it is nearly every day now. Georges is with us; at eight we saw him off at the station, and then Dina, Paul, and I went to eat ices.
At home they came to my room — that is, Dina and Paul, for the rest are in Monaco. We heard a guitar beneath the window. A serenade! I cried, and all three of us rushed to the terrace. But alas, what was it? It was the kitchen boy! He was playing in the garden for the gardener, who in turn began to play the violin — but so out of tune that we fled. We stayed in my room until half past ten; then I was obliged to send everyone away. I like people to gather at my place, to enjoy coming to my room. It is beginning a little, but I hope that with time... In all the other rooms there is no order; they are cluttered, whereas mine — always tidy, orderly, bright, clean, coquettishly arranged — offers a pleasant spectacle to the eye. Naturally they prefer to stay in mine. And I keep people somewhat at their ease, but I never let them cross a certain line of etiquette, and this pleases. I hope that in my house it will be the same. I ask nothing better than to have company from morning to night — above all, that each one should find pleasure in coming.