Tuesday, 18 September 1877

We are at the Grand Hôtel. There are people from Rome, which makes me more indulgent towards Paris.
I keep thinking of Gretchen and of Colonia Agrippina. The wretches who inhabit it doubtless know less about it than I do.
I shall not speak of the usual troubles attending every change of residence — and even without a change. That would be to repeat scenes you know very well. The worst is that I am in suspense. People will not understand that Nice is not an option.
I shall wait in Paris for the means to go to Rome. I detest myself. They have discouraged me by making light of my plans for study. These imbeciles, these ignoramuses, these cretins are capable of making anyone lose courage. They understand nothing! These vandals make me ashamed of loving the arts. And I am in despair!
What is the use of studying — what is that? You draw very well. You must get married.
Tigers, pigs, ignoramuses, scoundrels! They have taken away my faith and my courage! Outside of study nothing remains to me! I could dash myself to pieces at the word "study."
I detest myself!
Mme Vigier rode up in the elevator at the same time as I, and we exchanged a few words.
Ah! God! What is to be done! I am becoming wild with rage.
Last Sunday in Wiesbaden, we were at church, and that same day grandfather called on his old friend Prince Repnin. Their fathers were friends and the two families had been connected for a long time.
Repnin's father was viceroy of Saxony. The Repnins are besides celebrated [Crossed out: and especially for their quarrels with the emperors, who] — and our Tsars themselves indulged all their extravagances, which went sometimes as far as quarrels and impertinences toward the Imperial family and the Emperor.
You see clearly that we are not bourgeois.
This Prince Repnin is old and can barely walk. He had doubtless been told of me, for in church he endeavoured to see my feet and succeeded, staring at them fixedly as we left.
He afterwards (at his house) paid me compliments.