Wednesday, 23 August 1876 (11 August) — Continuation

Today. I am quite at home here, I don't interfere with any of his habits; I chat, I tell stories, I lecture — he listens to me with satisfaction and smiles. He is pleased to find me capable of talking about anything at all, and just as we were going in to dinner and I was finishing a sentence about chemistry with a certain Kapitanenko — a retired guard officer, dulled by provincial life and universal mockery, a young man and the household jester — my father rose from his chair and said:
— It's true, Pacha, she is most learned.
— Are you laughing at me, Papa?
— Not at all, not at all, but it is good, yes. Ah! Very good indeed, hm, very good.
You see plainly, you blasted readers, you see plainly that when I am not wretched as the dust of the road, you see plainly that I love nobody and that Antonelli is as remote from my heart as... as Gritz. I am impatient — he is coming tomorrow. He is the only one here, and I cannot live without amusement.
And then... and then there is Gritz. Well... God is good, very good to me.
I have written to Maman nearly as much as I write in my journal. It will do her more good than all the medicines in the world. I appear enchanted, though I am not quite there yet; I have recounted everything exactly, but I am not sure of the outcome as regards the end of the story. Well, we shall see. God is very good.
My father had gone out, and when he returned I asked:
— Where have you been?
— In the forest, he replied.
In the forest a cottage is being built, near which his mistress lives — hidden there on the occasion of my arrival.
— You did right, Papa; the forest is the part of the estate that requires the most supervision — the peasants steal the timber and devastate the wood by letting their flocks graze in it.
At the beginning of this sentence he had raised his eyes in expectation, almost in surprise, but I spoke with rare good nature and he said to me:
— Quite true, yes.
I rode on horseback with Paul and Pacha; Eristoff and Kapitanenko — nicknamed Kapitan — followed in a tilbury.

Notes

In English in the original.
A light two-wheeled open carriage.