Monday, 19 August 1878

There is something in our household I cannot bear! The petty vexations about nothing, the incredible carelessness in matters of consequence — that is what lies at the bottom of them all. And then what revolts me is this moral torpor, which produces a kind of dreadful cruelty that consists in abandoning Dina and me. We are so abandoned that I am almost ashamed of making the slightest claim. One would have to stage dramas to obtain the most ordinary things, and one would be regarded as an exorbitantly capricious girl who does not know what she wants. They are so utterly ignorant of the more or less tolerable conditions in which young girls must live that I do not even dare ask for anything. I do not even accuse them; they would not understand.
They think it natural that a girl of my age should spend her life within four walls — literally. It is a truly dreadful life, for one cannot do without the ordinary relations of civilised society unless one is an exception... and... but I am not speaking of exceptions, nor of disenchanted, morose, old people, of monks or of madmen.
And if I ever have any distraction, it is, as you well know, to myself alone that I owe it.
I was born into this, grew up in this, saw it every day, and yet I feel as if I had fallen into it by accident; I am astonished, I revolt, and I cannot even express what is lacking, because everything is lacking.
I have already done half of my errands for myself. Our apartment is furnished, but I am going to have an enormous desk where my notebooks can go, my... I break off to tell you that Maman opens the door herself when someone rings and brings me herself the note that has just been delivered. You understand? My notebooks, my notes, the big books I always need. Then a vase to toss my brushes into, and other things I need to make myself a modest little comfort.
I hope to be able to start at the atelier on Wednesday or Thursday.
Mademoiselle Oelsnitz, the one who was governess at Mme Anitchkoff’s, is now with us... The Anitchkoffs are in Russia. I believe I told you that Mlle Oelsnitz is the daughter of a Baron Oelsnitz (one of those German barons with whom Russia teems), that she left home as a result of her stepmother’s intrigues, and that she was in love with Walitsky... All that, and her stay with the Anitchkoffs, and above all the care she lavished on Grand-papa during the operation, have made her one of us, so to speak; besides, she will be useful to me: Maman has not yet noticed that it is not proper for me to go out with a maid or alone. She will be a sort of governess; I shall dress her and show her great deference in the shops to give her authority, for she is not imposing: small, red-haired, young, sad. A round face that looks like a caricature of the moon when the moon is sad; that expression makes one laugh. Eyes of a comic dreaminess — but with a hat of my choosing she will do, and I shall go to the atelier with her.
Abaza writes to me that Mühle got drunk and there was a whole scandal. I console myself for Ems by seeing how happy Grand-papa is to see me again, dying as he is. I shall become devilishly proud merely from seeing how far superior I am to my family: more of a woman, more of a man, more reasonable, more proper, better bred. There is nothing to be proud of, except this superiority.
Well, I have a terrible illness. I am disgusted with myself. It is not the first time I have detested myself, but it is no less terrible for that.
To hate someone else — him one can avoid; but to hate oneself, that is torment.