Tuesday, 10 October 1882

Come then — it is a little trip; we leave this evening at eight and arrive Saturday at six in the morning. And why??? What is clearest is that I am stealing a month from myself. And if I were ill?... I should be forced to lose time regardless. Well, I shall pretend it is an illness. It may be better that way...
If I am not weeping, I could be. My aunt brings such ill will, such airs of martyrdom to this departure... And then the talent these women have for unearthing annoying things to say — everything comes up, even the house in the rue Ampère which was taken on my account and is far from everything. Well!...
And then... And then stupid things as usual, it seems... Muddles and deliberate lies — without even the hope of deceiving me — like a child caught in the act. And then... It is sly, stubborn, and at bottom a good creature.