Wednesday, 24 February 1875

Rain, rain, rain — like autumn, which I love. Sacha and Nadia take me to the circus with the children (blue dress, Dina's black velvet hat, good) — the hat becomes me wonderfully. In the next box are the sisters of the little dark Spaniard; one of them is ravishing close to. These are the same Spanish girls who seemed so to admire my white dress and who look at me pleasantly. Sacha maintains they devoured both me and Nadia with their eyes. And Stiopa, with that little voice of his that is beginning to thicken and his Little Russian^["Little Russian" was the 19th-century term for Ukrainian.] accent, says:
That one was always looking at Moussia.
Stiopatchka, here everyone looks at everyone else — this is not that sort of place, I tell him.
Then why was he looking at you instead of watching the circus? You see!
I noticed the Spaniard on account of his ravishing horse.