Thursday, 28 August 1873

At Marseille they wake me. I go first of all to clean myself up — I am less dirty than I thought. So early I cannot eat; only a cup of tea. I take up my reading again; I return to the word “Hamilton.” I have never encountered a finer name. I take the opportunity to tell my aunt once more that Napoleon is no relation of his, since his mother is a Princess of Baden. Then we spoke of the kinship between the Russians and the English:
“Through the Hamiltons too,” says Dina.
At Toulon we dine, and very well; truly, if it had been at twelve or one o’clock instead of ten, I should have eaten perfectly. Since Toulon I am in the grip of a great sorrow — I am approaching Nice. All places are the same to me except Paris, which I adore, and Nice, which I abhor. There is no way even to study. And such heat!
I am crying since Toulon. No, never in my life have I been so hot. I have been bathed at least four times — by myself. I remember the Duke of Hamilton at the roulette table. At last we arrive in this accur... land. The two Anitchkoffs, the princess and Walitsky meet us. Maman is not there.. We ask; some say she is tired from Monaco, others that she is a little unwell. The truth is that she sat down on the chamber pot, it fell and she hurt herself badly, however that she fell out of bed and hurt herself falling against the night table.
We find her at the door; I make her sit down in the dining room. An arrival is always a muddle, impossible to describe. We all talk at once; people ask, people answer. We talk of everything. M. Abramovitch comes in the meantime; he leaves.
Georges has been detained at the Austrian border. His Anna ran off, stealing his passport. And without a passport they are holding him. I do not want to eat anything. We go up to the drawing room; Prater met us in the street. They have taken on a little Black boy, who will ride out with us in the carriage. As long as I do not look out of the window I am content, but I cannot bear this pale, scorched greenery, this burning sky, this red earth, this heavy air! Maman says, too, that we shall live in Paris. Oh, my God, how I should like it! Protect me and help me!
I show my hats. We talk of dresses. Maman does not like the Hamilton velvet. I see that I can count only on myself where dresses are concerned. One day velvet is bad, the next it is good, etc.
So I must rely on myself alone. They call us to dinner, but instead of dining I tidy my room! I put away the hats and the boots, the jewels. I give out my presents. I come back to the drawing room, where Maman is lying down; we talk, we shout. We tell what we have seen, whom we have seen. In short, we talk of everything. We show our purchases, etc. etc. etc. I do not dine at all; the time goes in coming and going, listening and telling. I fear Maman may fall seriously ill... I shall pray to God; He is good, He will keep her!
I am glad to be back in my room; it is pretty. Tomorrow I shall do up my bed all in white; it will be ravishing.
I want to send for a hat with a white fichu for Maman.
Maman has taken the brown dress from Spitzer’s. Makaroff is staying with us. His brother, a detestable Rodionoff, comes often. An idiot, a dolt, a lout. I have not spoken to him and saw him for three minutes, but I know what he is.
So here I am in Nice — truly, I cannot believe it! Yesterday, only yesterday... and today! I feel strange every time I arrive; it seems to me that... no matter.
I had completely forgotten that winter would come. I look on Nice as an exile. Above all I shall busy myself arranging the hours and days for the teachers. On Monday I resume my studies, so infamously interrupted by that Collignon woman — oh, the great scoundrel!
With winter will come society, and with society my gaiety. It will not be Nice but a little Paris for four months. And the races! And the pigeon shooting! And the Duke of Hamilton, who will come! I ought to love Nice, since it is the only town where I have the pleasure of seeing him. And sometimes as many as ten times! It is a happiness I have forgotten, that I no longer understand. Ah, everything has its advantageous side: in Nice I have the happiness of seeing the Duke, and it is so great, so beautiful, so rare, that at the mere thought of it every unpleasantness fades away, and the six or seven months I must get through seem to me a sea that I would cross without looking back and without taking my eyes off the lighthouse that guides me. I do not hope to land, no; I hope only to see that shore, and the mere sight of it will give me the character, the strength and the courage to live until next year.
And after? And after... upon my word, I have no idea. Perhaps I shall reach it? If not, we shall see what is to be done.
In any case, I shall swim until my strength gives out. But I hope; I believe in God, in His divine goodness! That is why I do not lose courage. God, who has been so good to me — would He cast me off? No, He is too great, too good!
My God, help me? Make me happy!!!
I shall pray to God and the Virgin. Perhaps they will grant me what I ask? But how to change the heart of that vagabond?! He is an impossible brute!
I was forgetting to thank the Lord for bringing me home safe and sound, without any accident. For keeping me from all sickness in a city with cholera.
And so, on the way to Vienna, I kept repeating to myself: “He who dwells under the protection of the Most High shall find his rest in the dwelling of the Almighty. He shall cover thee with his wings; under their shelter thou shalt be safe? His truth shall be thy shield; thou shalt not fear the arrows that fly through the air by night, nor the plagues by day. A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but they shall not come nigh thee.”
I cannot express how moved I am, and how deeply I acknowledge God’s kindness to me.