Monday, 1 May 1876

I dreamed that I was marrying Giacometto Doria, and I was very displeased when I woke up.
I forgot to say that we were at the theatre yesterday, that Saëtone and Galula came to the box. Galula has always been civil, but that great oaf Saëtone who comes only when there is no one else! Besides, I count him for so little that it is all the same to me — I mention it only for the record, just so...
I stayed at home all day, and towards six o'clock I went to the oriental shop where I bought the most ravishing things, the description of which you shall have little by little as I put them on. It is raining and I go home in a cab. All the Sapogenikoffs dined with us, and Varpahowsky too. Poor Nina makes me feel sad, and I was truly pleased to have made her smile several times when she and her daughters came to see my purchases in my room.
As for Antonelli he has no doubt forgotten me — he himself told me a hundred times that he could not love seriously and that in three days he would forget me. I regret him only out of pride and interest, if it is true that he will be a millionaire. For you see, I am certainly mistress here — but at home life is unbearable: cantankerous, without ceasing and without reason dissatisfied, and by force of habit one does nothing but say disagreeable things and snap at each other like spoiled and snappish dogs. Ask every person who has spent ten consecutive days with us intimately, and that person will confirm it. And then there is Grand-papa, whom I love very much from a distance but who, at close quarters, puts me in impossible states. There is nothing more insufferably irritating than he is. Even Maman says so. And then there is our position. None of this makes for a gentle life, and I do nothing but pray to God to make it better for me.
When I think of that poor Yourkoff, who loved society as I do and who killed himself on account of his rebuffs. A chill comes over me. And you know that that is the sole cause of his death. They said the most offensive things to his face; there was a scene made at the Cercle de la Méditerranée — it would take too long to enumerate everything. I am far from excusing the man, but at bottom he was a noble nature, endowed with such goodness and such infinite charity that one is tempted to forgive — and I forgive him everything.
Instead of killing himself he would have done better to take a room in a hotel — then nobody would have said anything; but... well! It is about me we are speaking. I was saying, then, that all this made life sad for me — yes, that is it. So I wish for a change; I would have accepted that change from Pietro more willingly than from another — but Pietro himself... you know his position. In any case one must string him along — which is what I have done, for one never knows what may happen. I ask for nothing better than to string him along — but it is he who forgets; when I think that he let me go like that, that he said nothing to his father or to his mother, I think he never loved me, and that torments and humiliates me.
[Written across the page: As you see, I am in doubt after three days.]
You know that until now we did not even have a lawyer in Russia, so that there was only God to defend us, and sometimes Uncle Alexandre. Now we have engaged Plevako — the one I saw in Paris after Schlangenbad.
One must go to Russia. As for Antonelli — if he loves me he will find me. I have pushed him enough; I have had enough. What! It was not he who asked whether I would have him for a husband — it was I! It was not he who was anxious about my departure — it was I!
He was in love with me, no doubt — but that was all.
Besides, he is too dissolute and above all too much of a child to love seriously. Yet I should like to keep him as a reserve, and not break with him.
There it is — I have gone four days without seeing him and I am starting again to make alarming suppositions.
Ah! how sad is life — such as I live it!