Thursday, 27 September 1877

The dresses do not fit and it irritates me for everything else. There is nothing so detestable as stupid vexations.
Expeditions in search of apartments.
Georges has not a penny left. This evening, as Maman invited him to dine at the table d'hôte, he said:
— Give me those six francs and I shall dine for three.
His eyes were full of tears.
And while this already grey-haired man, this man nearly old, worn out, wretched, wept on the balcony of the Grand Hôtel, Grand-papa went in to dinner with the majesty of a stupid, unfeeling, imbecile, revolting idol! He cannot understand that a man needs money, clothes, food. He gives money when he can or when the mood takes him, and when he does give he thinks he is bestowing a gift. Excellent appetite, clear conscience, perfect contentment, adoration of Renard upon whom he has lavished all his pride — and that is all! And they say he has always been the same. The last four or five years he was blind and had changed for the better; now once again as before.
May God forgive him — and God will forgive, for this man has no awareness that he does not act rightly. And may God forgive me too for judging my grandfather.

Notes

Table d'hôte: the communal hotel dining table with a fixed menu — the economical option.