Friday, 4 September 1874

I spend my morning and my afternoon in rather comical fashion. I was sewing ruffles to my bodice and weeping, saying my whole life passes this way, that I never go anywhere on account of sewing and cleaning, etc. Dina, seeing and hearing me, begins to laugh; I too, but without ceasing to weep.

[Crossed out: My aunt] I make them beg me to come to dinner, but I yield, and:

In a great storm-wind That lifted our skirts, We went to the Plage While it rained. My aunt swears and fumes, For the sea-wind Ruffles her plume And makes life bitter.

There we are near the man who is said to be in love with me, and on the other side is another man, old and ugly, who for several days has dined beside us and stares at me furiously.

The first is a young German with black side-whiskers, for whom a woman killed herself last year; he is the one who wanted to be introduced through Count Doenhoff, and whom I refused.

He was speaking German, and my aunt recounted afterwards that he said he would give anything in the world to make my acquaintance, and the person he was speaking to said it would be easy at the bath -- when I bathe he could help me, etc. -- but he replied that it is impossible.

It rains and we go home by carriage.

[Crossed out: Spent 2 fr. gold]

I do my hair and put on closed boots. But it rains so hard that I had to go out wrapped up and with an umbrella. On the way I thought several times I should be blown over or drowned.

In the reading room we find our people. Everyone is gloomy; tomorrow we think of leaving and my heart tightens. Merjeewsky poses; I do not address a word to him.