Monday, 27 January 1879

I am young, I am fresh, and I am buried!
I have nothing else to do but die. Who will come to seek me out in our solitude, whom do we see, who sees me — Nobody. I get in and out of carriages six times, wrapped up and veiled, and then — that is all.
The people who saw me four years ago at sixteen looking eighteen, and who have not seen me again these past two years, do not calculate as I do! To die without having lived. Desperate and withered...