Thursday, 6 September 1877

There are two things to be done, beyond which there is only adventure — which is dangerous — and chance, on which one cannot count. Either to obtain a letter of recommendation for the Russian embassy in Rome, or, if that is impossible, to remain in Paris where one can live entirely unknown provided one goes neither to the Bois nor to the Opéra, which is easy for me. That is what I have definitively settled upon, and so has Madame my mother. I spent the whole day with her, urging her to act; we did not quarrel, and all would go very well if she were not ill — particularly in the evenings. Since yesterday she has scarcely left her bed.
I had the letter sent off to the commandeur, along with three or four others.
Hall writes to me from Paris that she has just left it. There is also a correspondence with my professor Brunet, who will compile the catalogue for me.
What is the use of living like this?..
Fortunately it is all over, and if I do not get the letter I am resolved to remain in Paris, where I shall study, and from where in summer I shall go and amuse myself at the spas. All the fancies are exhausted; Russia, like the rest, has failed me; I am well and truly chastened, and I feel that the moment has come at last to stop. I am nearly nineteen, but with my abilities I shall in two years make up for lost time. And the longer I wait, the later and harder it will be. That is clear enough.
So then, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and may divine protection be with me. This is not a fleeting resolution like so many others, but a final one.