Friday, 5 February 1875

My aunt, having gone to meet Botkine, saw Doria come out of the station — who this time has genuinely arrived, unlike before.
At three o'clock I go out (grey, well) for various Carnival errands; it will cost us three hundred francs — misery! That is not how I should like it.
Today a Russian has arrived who gives Latin lessons — but the poor man has heard so much of my erudition that he dares not accept me as a pupil.
That is how they exaggerate in our poor circle!
Me — a scholar! Come now!
In the evening Botkine comes — great event! Everyone vies for him and he is honoured like a king, like a god. It is to good Pelikan that we owe this.
I have had two glimpses of the devil; he looks so cold, so haughtily stupid that he frightens me — yet I cannot deny him a certain Macainne-ish air, stupidly presumptuous.
[Crossed out: Oh my God,] Truly, the more men I see, the more I love you, the more beautiful, noble, great, and perfect you are (this is addressed to Hamilton).