Friday, 30 April

Yesterday with Marie and Olga we told fortunes; I opened the book for Blackprince and read: he marries.
Truly, I have only to let my thoughts touch a man for him to go and get married.
I am dying of hunger — our cook is quite useless now. I take Léonie and go off to the Sapogenikoffs'. I find them all in the garden: Maman in an armchair, the parrot at liberty opposite her; Nina, Yourkoff, and Walitsky on a sofa; and further off, in the shade of the orange trees — [Crossed out: stretched out] — on a carpet, Marie, Olga, and Dina reading, Prater at their feet, and Mistigri, Nina's monkey, leaping, running, playing, and flying from branch to branch. I breathed the air of laziness that reigned there — one feels soft and incapable of anything. One feels like a shepherd of Virgil. A blazing sun that one escapes under beautiful orange trees laden with fruit, lying — not on the grass, for the grass is too unclean on account of insects — but on a carpet spread over the grass.
There are some happy people.
[In the margin: W always means Walitsky.]
Nina and Walitsky seated side by side, reading attentively from the same book — what book? Theocritus, perhaps, or Virgil? No — something still more sublime: a book that gives joy and peace to the soul and body alike. A cookbook.

Notes

In English in the original. Blackprince appears to be Marie's coded nickname for a man she was interested in; the referent is uncertain.