Tuesday, 2 February 1875

I have my first English walk-and-conversation with a young imbecile who will come three times a week.
I feel even more miserable than yesterday, and the moment I sit at the piano I weep like the madwoman I am.
Jesus! You were upon the earth — You deigned to take human form — and in my stupidity this makes me think that You will be more indulgent, that You will have pity, and that You will pray to Our Father for the poor soul in anguish who prostrates herself in her nothingness before You!
And You, Virgin Mary, protect me and make me live — oh, but make me live, in the name of God, of Your divine Son! Have pity on my misery, forgive me, and pray God for me!