Sunday, 5 November 1876 (24 October)

The room is strewn with clothes and frippery; at last the packing has begun. In spite of my conviction I avoid my father; strained relations do not suit me, and I cannot see what his rage is about.
— I have lost all esteem for you. You have committed a petty baseness, and to crown it all you resisted all my entreaties; you will regret it, for I might lose my temper in earnest.
Those were my last words yesterday. This morning I had stopped thinking about it, but I believe Pacha had not, so much so that he seemed downcast and I was triumphant, heaven knows why.
At last he came up to me and said he was going to break his word of honour, but he could bear it no longer. In fact it was nothing: he had seen Michel gluing together the pieces of a letter I had torn up, that was all.
— Well, thank you. Now I am going to tell you about your own vileness.
— Tell me, then — what vileness?
— Oh! next to nothing in your eyes, and I prefer it so, but here it is all the same. I understand going on one’s own account, but on behalf of others! Fie. When I was told of it I answered: it is not true. For really, you had been entrusted with a low office there, and the position of watchman seems to me rather degrading for a young man of your age, and then... well, without being a crime, it is ugly. And do not think that I am being unjust, or that I say this because... !!
He understood me perfectly. I was alluding to an incident: while I was away, the Durocher woman took fright at a prowler in the night, and Pacha went with the Polish steward to sleep at her house, at Bashkirtseff’s behest. It cast a kind of shadow over the green man, and I could not help telling him so; this, on the other hand was painful, and the honest young man was singularly diminished.
But far from being confounded by my speech, he seemed reassured and told me it was not true.
— It was not the way you say... If I went... it was with my uncle. It is wrong, but I cannot go against it without breaking off all relations... I cannot go against it, having always been liked here... whereas what you are saying...
— Yes, yes, it is true, and how heroic it was, how superb you looked! On foot, crossing the forest in the company of that nasty Pole, trousers rolled up, with a busy air... fie! fie! fie!
— You do not believe that it was not like that!
— No!
— I swear it to you!
— No.
— Well then, I swear to you... may I never see my mother again if I am lying! I swear by my mother!
— Enough.
I would rather have spent the evening with the green man, but I gave him a book and his leave, and went to my father’s. To be eloquent, one must, as the English say, “be in earnest”.
I launched into speeches that were perhaps useless, but at least we had it out, and I believe everything is mended. Besides, he told me I would have done better to come in June: “we could have shown you society, arranged something, received, etc. etc.”
But the moment he spoke of it I stopped listening, which had an excellent effect.
We had it out, and it was agreed that we would quarrel no more
— Everything will pass, Father — the Gedanoffs, the champagne, the other things — but the relations between a daughter and her father are not to be neglected, and you will regret it later. You are like those children who, whatever one tells them, will never understand that they must study until the time comes to understand; now you neglect it, later you will weep! Strained relations lead to nothing good; I want no more of them. Let us be sincere, let us be simple, let us be kind. Our sourness, our mutual discontents, our quarrels are natural and necessary things at the beginning of our friendship, and because of the existing circumstances. We have told each other everything, explained everything; enough now.
— Is that settled? Is it over?
— Yes, it is settled.
— Well... that is good.
It is hard for me to play-act, but I am not lying out of malice; I am working for my happiness as well as for his... I claim no merit for it, I merely state the fact.
I came home singularly relieved, and were it not for the horrible memory of... that insult... all the more horrible since it was I who, so to speak, brought it on... that insult in Rome.
Oh! I am punished enough for it; if people only knew how much I think about it and how it makes me suffer.

Notes

In English in the original. ↩