Monday, 29 January 1877

One more day of numbing stupor.
I went to the Anitchkoffs’ with Dina, in my basket carriage. There I soothed M. Anitchkoff’s nerves with my singing, and took his wife to the Skating, where I met M. de Bauche, and all the others from a distance. Soroka too. What a hideous man. He has grown ugly, and besides, he is disagreeable.
I do not know whether it is because he detests me that I see him so.
Then I took Mme Anitchkoff for a drive, and in the evening I amused myself by suckling at the breast of our Russian cook, who has an eight-month-old daughter. It must be excellent for the complexion, woman’s milk.
Meyssner missed this pretty scene by five minutes. He howled at the piano.
And then...

Notes

In French in the original: panier — a light open carriage with a basket-work body, driven by its owner; a fashionable conveyance for ladies. ↩