Sunday, 31 May 1874

For this Sunday I did not write my diary; I was cross, bored. We were to go to Chantilly; we arrived at the station -- there was no more train. I was holding myself back but I was desolate and furious. At lunch I cried while struggling not to, and each time I wanted [Crossed out: to say] to articulate a few words, I hesitated because I felt that with the words I would cry like rain.
Maman is cross on my behalf; she took a box at the Odeon for "La jeunesse de Louis XIV." I enjoyed the play; these subjects always please me.
Home again, I was hungry and thirsty. They found a lemon and some ice; someone needed to fetch sugar from downstairs. Paul refused to go and shut himself in his room. I assumed a Louis XIV air and I smashed the glass! I suffer no resistance!
I infinitely regret these missed races; I am desolate and furious.

Notes

In English in the original.