Wednesday, 25 October 1876 (13 October)

The day before yesterday left me with so odious an impression that I am loath to go back to Gavronzi.
I am irritated by the delays, and it seems to me that they are being contrived.
I look at Nadine and marvel: orphaned at four, taken in by Wassilissa (now the madwoman), in whose house she was treated like a dog; and that was hardly because the lady was wicked or miserly (Nadine had a fortune), but the old maid, while providing teachers for the little girl, was incapable of looking after her and left her to trail about with the servants. When she was thirteen she had to come here, for the rich Wassilissa was ruined. At fifteen and a half Nadine married my uncle Alexandre, whose cousin she happened to be.
Well, this They have been married ten years and are perfectly happy. The wife is a woman of the home and the household, an accomplished mother. She has educated herself; she has civilised and polished her husband, whom she keeps in check through respect; she knows a great deal, and without talking of Homer or Roman history she will everywhere seem, and will truly be, a cultivated woman. I bow and admire.
Étienne is the most honest man in the world, but exasperating! He has a mania and a talent for teasing you until you are ready to go mad!
I had something like a scene with Alexandre, and the money arrived in the evening. The man took two days to get here. I am unjust, and who knows? He could not have come any sooner; Vidnewka is a hundred leagues from here, and there are almost no railways. Come, it is over, and I regret the scene, after which poor Alexandre took to his bed.
After evening tea we all came into his room, and I did not leave it until one o’clock.
May God repay him for his kindness! He calmed me by proving to me that Georges was the cause of everything — I knew that — and that once Georges had gone, everything would be set right at Nice.
Ah! if only it were true!
I rummaged in chests; I gave away a great many rags that will make those I gave them to very happy. I saw Marfa, Trifon’s wife; that scoundrel is married — after eight months of marriage he left his wife in the lurch to follow Monsieur. Marfa has a charming little girl of six named Pauline, who looks like her wretch of a father. She has other children too... but it is not her fault; a sturdy chambermaid is not abandoned by her husband with impunity.
Why write? It is not interesting.
I suddenly discover two slumbering passions. I adore my mother and Dante’s Divine Comedy.