Tuesday, 15 July 1873

I wrote to the Howards three weeks ago — no reply. Today I wrote them another scolding letter.
In the evening at La Victoire — Maman, my aunt, and I. Nearby we met the painter who paints miniature portraits on ivory; tomorrow he will begin mine. The great difficulty is the hairstyle — I do not know how to arrange my hair. The night brings counsel, and I hope that by tomorrow I shall have invented something pretty.
Maman thinks of nothing but Miloradovitch; she wants me to go to Vienna, but for his sake, not mine.