Friday, 12 December 1873

My mirror has broken. If I were superstitious, it would be a sign that I am to die. The moment I saw that shattered glass I was greatly troubled; I was already beginning to think seriously that I shall die. I thought of burning my diary, and I was not afraid -- only when I thought of what would become of my mother if I died was I afraid. I go to the piano all flushed, and Dina is seated on the sofa nearby reading the newspaper. I ask her for it and read with horror that "the Duke of Hamilton, whose approaching marriage to an English peeress has caused some stir in Nice, will proceed immediately after the ceremony with his young bride to Suffolk, where they will spend their honeymoon. After which they will undertake a journey to the south of Europe, and there is talk of Nice as likely to detain them for some time." It seemed to me that one could not be more inflamed than I was, and yet on top of this extreme redness I managed to blush still more. In all my life I have never been in such a state. Never has a more terrible blow struck me; never have I been plunged into so deep a sorrow. I was as if in fire, physically and morally. The broken mirror, united with all the tribulations of my poor soul, made me nearly mad; I was ready to die that instant, without the slightest hesitation -- which I would not do at this moment, when I am calmer. I am even very comfortable -- too comfortable. I cannot describe the state in which I found myself this morning! He was constantly before my eyes. But what shall I do if they come! What shall become of me!

^["Flushed" and "comfortable" in English in the original.]
I want and do not want to see them. No matter whether I want to or not, it will happen as God wills, for I am not worthy of being heard; my prayers are not received; I am not worthy. I ask only for as much strength as I have had until now, and even more -- for if I see them... He will no doubt shoot at Monaco. I shall no doubt be there. Will God give me courage?
[In the margin: Walking, I saw the charming Pristitiff -- she is so likeable. And an American woman; she recognized me, I wanted to speak to her but lost sight of her.]
This morning when I went to Maman she told me that I talk in my sleep and recount all sorts of things. At these words I blushed and began speaking of my dress at Worth. What a pleasure, to talk in one's sleep! And people listen! How tiresome!
I had promised to come do Lise's hair; she comes up. I hurry, then, and we go (blue dress, blue hat, not bad, but wretched and all on fire). They do not come up; they go to the Derwies', and as Gaspard says, they are very put out about it. It is so hot; I must have the most wretched face. I walk with Cunegunda, who is more stupid than ever -- from the Tabatiere to the extreme end of the Promenade, and from there home. On the way back it is cooler; I begin to see and feel. In this sun, even without any trouble, I see very little; I lower my eyes and feel crushed -- and especially now I detest it, that star that gives life and light; I rage to see it shining and heating while I am so unhappy. Perhaps I would love it if my soul were joyous and brilliant like it. I dread dinner, for everyone is at Monaco -- Maman, my aunt, Walitsky, diadia, Solominka, and I know not what other dogs. But fortunately Solominka and Tormosoff return, and I am calmed; they laughed and I was a little animated -- but always as if under a dark blue veil.

^["Extreme end" and "home" in English in the original.]
It is a pity I did not write this morning, for the fire that consumed me was extraordinary -- it seemed not to come from this earth. Never have I been like that.
He seems so handsome to me; I love him so much that I could beat myself with sticks, for it is not proper to love a married man... He is married!!! It will always be new and terrible.
He has been married since Wednesday. I would have said a great deal, but I am too young; I must not express myself too frankly! Otherwise I would have said how much... no, how I envy her, as if...