Tuesday, 25 April 1876

Opening my eyes at noon my first thought was: Is it possible to behave as I did yesterday? Is it possible to forget one's pride? But it was not my fault. I was speaking with the firm conviction that every word I said was received as a blessing from heaven; seeing an effect other than the one I had hoped to produce, I pressed further and further forward because it seemed to me impossible that... well... you understand me.
So long as it was Petruccio — the mad, honest boy — I could do as I did; but once it is the Conte Antonelli, back off. One must not forget that neither he nor I are children, and between a young man and a young woman there are so many niceties to observe. One needs modesty, restraint. No — one needs indifference; then I shall see well enough whether he loves me.
[Written across the page: A passage one must remember — I]
You cannot imagine how ill at ease I feel! I reproached him to his face with everything I have reproached him with in this journal — and he paid no attention to it and did not think to justify himself, but on the contrary urged me to admit that I was in the wrong.
- That is a fine joke! I cried out — I have never seen such audacity; I cross myself from head to toe. I am in the wrong! I swear what you say is outrageous. If I loved you I would curse you — but as the sort of love that existed has changed to contempt on account of your cowardly conduct, I do not curse you. The devil take you! Although — no; the devil could not endure long in the company of an imbecile!
And there he stood under this hail of words, impassive as a fortress wall under a shower of dried peas.
- I shall come tomorrow, he said, as though to calm me — and we will speak of all this seriously.