Wednesday, 30 December 1874

I was alone in the carriage with Dina; the nauseating Italian passed by and looked straight at me, brazenly. I looked at him with contempt and, barely turning towards Dina: “Scum,” I said, curling the lip. If he neither heard nor understood, he saw and understood the gesture. The devil take that man!
Here is the first person I hate, the first on whom I should like to be avenged — to avenge myself, to avenge myself, as Dary says in Il Trovatore. It is natural: the insult is personal.
I am unhappy!
There is no end to the questions, and I am not going to Paris; I have nothing to wear.
Ah! my God!
But apart from that, when I go to Paris I want Laferrière and not Worth — Worth will never dress one the way she does!
And I am tormented by it, because without dresses I am nothing.
When I do not feel perfectly dressed I am good for nothing: I can neither study, nor amuse myself, nor think, nor live. Lack of clothes is lack of everything, and I regard them as an indispensable part of the body, not as a vanity.
Oh! my God, let us go to Paris! In less than a month come the races, and I shall have nothing to wear — and even setting the races aside, I cannot live like this: without clothes I am as if flayed, as if someone had stripped off my skin.
I must be careful now; I do not want to risk going out with Victor without a gentleman. This brigand — no, not brigand, brigand is a pretty name — this cad is capable of being impertinent to me! O rage, O vengeance!
Would Blackprince do the same in this wretch’s place? That is the question I have been asking myself from the first moment. And upon my word, bewildered as I am, I believe he would — and I despair of it.
What revolts me in the highest degree is this lack of consideration for me, a woman.
And I who believed myself inviolable! It is true I did not know there were such wretches.

Notes

Written in Russian in the manuscript; French translation by the editor. ↩
In English in the original. ↩
In Italian in the original: mi vendicar’, mi vendicar’ — from Verdi’s Il Trovatore (1853). ↩
In Italian in the original: O rabbia, O vendetta ! ↩
In English in the original. ↩