Wednesday, 9 September 1874

I am a little better, but always the same state as on the boat. I have fittings at Paole's and at Wolmershausen's, where I order yet another costume. Then we wander again by carriage. It rains two or three times. We visit Westminster Abbey and St Paul's. Since I have been visiting all sorts of monuments, I find these alone worthy of being seen. What antiquity, what grandeur! I admire, among other things, the architecture of the houses. Everything is solid, massive, graceful and rich. In visiting palaces on the continent I regretted this fine old architecture; I thought there was no more of it, and I discover with boundless satisfaction that what I thought lost exists better than I imagined. It is cold and the air is good. I should like always to remain here; I should especially like to see the Plobsters here -- they must be demigods, as Beast used to say. And nothing gives me as much pleasure as seeing handsome men, especially Englishmen. Before dinner we walk a little without going too far from the hotel. I adore English hats; I would buy them every day. In a word, everything here delights me. We spoke of Hamilton, of his fortune, and my aunt, as always, sought to prove he is ruined. After dinner we go out no more. It is decided we shall go to Canterbury on leaving London. I think constantly of the men here; I should like to see them. There is not a nation in the world that possesses this quality peculiar to the English -- their manners and their bearing. Unfortunately I have become very ugly. I have palpitations of the heart so loud I fear they can be heard, and these palpitations make themselves heard in my back and especially in my right ear, and then prevent me from falling asleep and disturb me while writing. I think I shall take iron; my condition annoys and alarms me. I have slept little since I began studying -- almost never more than seven hours, and often only six. That is the beginning; but what has definitively ruined me is that during my whole journey since the 6th or 8th of May I never go to bed earlier than one or two, and very often three and four. And in truth I am reaping the fruits of this fine life: I am weak; I cannot climb ten steps without losing my breath and without my heart pounding as it did when the Duke of Hamilton was behind me at the shooting gallery. I am pale, ugly, crumpled, plain. Now I have begun going to bed earlier, especially in London -- but what do three days of good set against four months of harm! Wretch that I am. Late nights kill dragons, let alone children of fifteen. And I am only fifteen -- the most tender age.