Monday, 5 January 1874

I decide not to go to Monaco; it is not good for me to be seen every time at the pigeon shooting.
I was taking my English lesson when Walitsky puts his head through the door: Uncle Stiopa. I leap up and at the door meet Uncle Stiopa; after embracing us we go to Maman's room where Machenka was already. They find me filled out. Stiopa finds me beautiful, for he loves me.
They have brought all sorts of salted Russian delicacies, and preserves. It goes without saying that I abandon my English lesson and Hitchcock along with it.
However at four o'clock I go out with Bete, whom I have unjustly named thus; but Bete is shorter than princess and I prefer it (brown dress and hat, good). There is no one left, it is cold and soon dark. Stiopa and Machenka will lodge with Walitsky. At dinner Stiopa said I absolutely must marry a Grand Duke.
I: It is a pity the Prince of Monaco is married.
Stiopa: And Hamilton, has he married?
-- Who? Ah! Hamilton! Yes, he has married.
And I blushed.
-- She blushed, you see -- I guessed right.
Then we spoke of the Russian Hamiltons, how their glorious name became Gamenton, then Gamentoff, then Khamoutoff. Papa told as always the story of that Lady Hamilton who was beheaded under Peter the Great. I hastened to declare my tastes: that I do not like the Russians, that I shall remain abroad, the races and everything I love, in short. Stiopa of course was trying to persuade me that Russia is better, that the sleighs with the troika etc. etc.
I played "The Brook" which was not understood. In short, since their arrival I come, I go, I play, I talk, and I do nothing. Tomorrow is our Christmas; they say one must tell the future. One of the divinations is to place a plate full of water under the bed, and one will dream of one's future husband.
I want to try it.
It is eleven o'clock; they are still at Maman's chattering. I am going to fetch the plate.