Sunday, 28 December 1879

Paul is getting married. I consent; she wrote to him yesterday and I consent. I am going to tell you why. She adores him and is very eager to marry him. She is of a good enough family, known, from the same country, a neighbor, rich enough, young, pretty, and according to her letters of a good nature. And then she is eager for it. And it is really not for me to oppose the wish of a young girl. It is believed she has her head somewhat turned because Paul is the son of a marshal of the nobility and he has a fashionable family in Paris. All the more reason for me to consent. I do more: I desire it. Thanks to a negligence of Rosalie's, my ten-page letter to Paul never reached him. Maman consented; he wrote to her and she sent him the following telegram:
"Happy, delighted, thank maman on my knees, return quickly, miss you terribly. - Alexandrine."
They say the poor little thing is afraid of the Paris family, of me so proud, so haughty, so hard. No, it is not I who will say no; although having never loved as she loves, I do not want to take upon my conscience the causing of grief to anyone. It is easy to say that one is this and that and will become wicked, but when the occasion presents itself to cause pain to a fellow citizen of the earth, one thinks twice; one knows what it is and one does not even think twice; if I have troubles, will I cure them by tormenting others? It is not at all from goodness that I am good, but because I would have it on my conscience and it would torment me. Truly selfish people should only do good; in doing evil one is too unhappy. It appears, however, that there are people who take pleasure in doing evil... to each his own. All the more so since Paul will never be anything but a gentleman farmer...
Many visitors at our house.
Alexis, who very discreetly and with hesitation pays me a hint of courtship. You know I am not at all smitten with him. He has surges of brotherly friendship; he says I am blamed because I mock everything, that does not suit a young lady. I joke always, I joke to the death. He is right, but it stuns me.
[Words blacked out: I had] asked Bichinsky if there was not a way to obtain a permanent pass for the Chamber; he accosts me saying that he has been looking after me, that he has become acquainted with Joseph's cousin, and says this name smiling. At this name I take him aside, thank him, and insist on the essential point. I want the pass, but for nothing in the world do I want to be introduced to the gentleman.
It looks like a running joke being played on him with this pretty Russian!!
It is quite simple, it does not stop; in an hour a story launched like this Joseph story. Echoes of it will come back to me; I must be calm.
This morning we went to church, then to the Gavinis', then to see the exhibition of Vasily Vereshchagin, painter, traveler, and soldier. And then I have just reread and copied out separately Edmond's prophecy. It has tired me and I shall not tell you of my evening yesterday, which will no doubt be repeated.
I was alone and I thought of all the disgusts, all the misunderstandings, all the failures by which I am pursued.

Notes

In English in the original.