Wednesday, 25 November 1874

I am so overwrought my hand is trembling, from the dinner scene.
For the first time this winter I got up before dawn.
At Laussel's, I played much better today.
It is cold and a few drops of rain have even fallen. Weather I love, but not the people I love. I went out walking alone — all our set stays indoors on account of Count Merjeewsky, who was here before my departure for the lesson; to avoid him I went out. He has grown uglier if that is possible, with an air so wretched, unhappy, confused, and crushed that I cannot bear the sight of him. Maman kept me at least a quarter of an hour, during which I did not address a single word to him and turned my back on him as much as politeness allowed.
The Apletcheieffs have arrived, along with my dear relations the Tutcheffs — may the plague choke them.
There was company; I bought a box of cigarettes, for I have been smoking of late. Not openly — I don't really hide it either; I claim to smoke on a whim whenever I happen to see cigarettes, but to actually smoke I do keep myself out of sight, though everyone knows I smoke occasionally. No one objects, and I filch cigarettes from my aunt every time she turns away, then show them to her and run off. Smoking is a dreadful habit; I hope it has not yet become one for me — it is only for a little while.
At dinner there was a terrible scene. Makaroff, who takes liberties and often behaves coarsely owing to Papa's protection — it seems that Makaroff ha parlato di noi a Markevitch; she told him so, and he jumped up in a fury, shouting and brandishing his chair; Papa instantly began shouting at everyone and playing the offended party; Makaroff shouted louder. Seeing that the scene was becoming impossible, I struck the table — it was necessary, the noise was dreadful — and said:
— You forget yourself! Be quiet! No noise! This is not a tavern — you forget where you are! It seems it was said with force, for the madman fell silent. Then it was a general uproar: Papa insulted everyone, spoke outrageous injustices and monstrous lies, and finally burst into tears, invoking the memory of my grandmother — that woman he had outraged and ill-treated all his life — and now he says that since her death he is ill-treated himself, that while she lived he was respected, that he is the most wretched of men. His lies were such that even Maman spoke up. In short, I said that if dinners like this were to be repeated ten days running, all the diners would end up with the falling sickness. The mind reels when one tries to make sense of Papa's imbecility, or madness, or cowardice, or whatever it is! But the worst is that he does not hear what one tells him, refuses to hear, and goes on with what he has begun for an indefinite time — like a hammer, without stopping, without answering anyone's reasons. It is dreadful!
I am utterly overwrought — and I, at fifteen, a sturdy girl — well, he has undone me!
Everyone is at the theatre.
Victor is becoming a dog without equal — gentle, intelligent; he follows me everywhere, lies at my feet, attends my lessons, and at this very moment is lying here.
I searched for a name for him, and tonight I found one — or rather Maman did. Someone said he was a Doria, and she said no, he is a plobster. I seized upon the word and christen him Plobster.

Notes

In Italian in the original — "talked about us to Markevitch."