Saturday, 3 October 1874
Samedi, 3 octobre 1874
I take a walk with the dogs and without a hat, as far as Villa 77, in the morning.
I do not go out but stay all day at Maman's, where the excavations continue.
They talk about the furniture — badly, no doubt; Maman especially.
Walitsky is always inventing some nonsense; he never stops sending letters to Makaroff, who is each time very disturbed and comes running to ask Papa's advice.
It is Ogarev, the socialist, who supposedly writes, and this time treats him as a friend, telling him that in a fit of anger he bit Turgenev on the ear. That fool believes everything and makes us laugh. In these letters there are verses, composed by supposed enemies of Makaroff, in which he is regarded as a conspirator and writer against the Russian government, et cetera.
I go to bed, followed by Maman and my aunt. But as soon as I am in my room, I do not know how the conversation falls upon the villa, and I begin to lament the loss of my pavilion. I have never ceased to lament over this, but tonight the lamentations changed into sobs, into tears, into bitter, heartrending complaints.
I weep, not for the pavilion — because I no longer care for it — but because they have turned me from it, disgusted me with it.
Silk dresses from Garach and ribbon bows do not interest me, as they interest the Howards and the like. Few things please me, and these few things always consist of great things. This villa, this pavilion, pleased me from the first day, and I made a thousand plans in my head — how they would be furnished, how my study would be downstairs, my chambermaid close at hand, my bedroom with its balcony, its two terraces, its view over the Promenade and the sea, its five windows, its little entrance where my shell-shaped bath was to go — all of this pleased me and amused me. Now they have spoilt everything, ruined everything! I know very well I can, if I wish, do as I wanted — but I no longer want to. They have disgusted me with it, they have arranged things so that I no longer want it, that I no longer know what, but that I would not take those other rooms if they forced me, and it is for this that I weep.
I weep [Crossed out: no longer] not because they have overturned, disturbed, and ruined all my plans, but because they have disenchanted me, because I no longer want it, because they have disgusted me and turned me from all of it, and because I am forced to recognise that they can thus ruin what I desire — by words said the wrong way, and by the smallest things.
I weep because they have contrived it so that I no longer want, despite [Crossed out: the most] my great desire, to have what I wanted.
Seeing me so desperate — for I am so desperate that I want [Crossed out: refuse] to cancel at Duval's — seeing me so desolate, they will come and offer to dislodge everyone. (I was obliged to throw down the pen to weep! Triple Miserere!1) But I no longer want anything, I want nothing. I shall not speak of the horse for fear they ruin it for me. I am foolish, but that is how it is!
They can make me uncertain with a single unkind word! They poison all my pleasures and then give them to me. Those wretched shooting matches and races — how many tears did they cost me? In the end I went, but disgusted, disenchanted, desolate, no longer wanting to look at anything, with a heavy heart, praying God the match or the race would end.
What an adorable way of granting my wishes, of spoiling me!
[Crossed out: Everything, everything.]
Now I myself no longer want those rooms; Grandpapa would be grieved too. And then to trouble him at his age, to disturb him — it is not right and I do not wish to do it. The only thing that appeals to me now is an apartment in the annex they are going to build. But when! There is no money; the furniture costs fifty thousand francs and the annex will cost as much, and then to furnish it.
Well then! There is no money and there is no annex, so that nothing appeals to me. And on top of that, no horse — for there is still no money.
Always money! I rage! Because I understand myself that there is no money and that, as I had planned to do, everything was agreed and in order and there was no need to spend, and that now everything is overturned, poisoned, poisoned, poisoned!
The scene of today has by itself lost everything. One must no longer dream of the pavilion. Even as I write, I weep, I sob, and I look at myself in the mirror — a fine face indeed! Eyes swollen, nose shining, swollen, and red; cheeks wet and dulled; lips disdainful, trembling, and red as [Crossed out: cactus] blood — and over this admirable face tears flow in such abundance one could take a shower.
On peut me rendre incertaine par une seule parole méchante ! On m'empoisonne tous mes plaisirs et on me les donne après. Ces malheureux tirs et courses, combien de larmes m'ont-ils coûté ? à la fin j'y allais mais dégoûtée, désenchantée, désolée, ne voulant plus rien regarder et le cœur gros, et priant Dieu que le tir ou la course finisse.
Notes
Latin: "Have mercy!" (from Psalm 51), tripled for emphasis. ↩