Wednesday, 31 January 1877

With my talent for painting, not to go to Rome!! It drives me to despair, as death does. To bury a talent, a glory, is worse than burying a man, is it not?
Bihovetz came to pay his court before dinner, and afterwards we had Pelikan and his brother-in-law Azantchewsky, Broussais and Meyssner.
Pelikan goes everywhere, and yet he is our good friend.
In Nice they reproach my aunt for having inherited from her husband.
Now they are going after Mme Korsakoff for not marrying M. Zwegintseff after ruining him. Old Mme Patton, old Princess Dolgorouky and the Russian priest went to admonish her.
A ridiculous, absurd world, dirty, stupid, the world of a gossiping and depraved provincial town.
Ah! Fie.