Monday, 24 September 1883

In the morning I go to Jouy; we walk the fields in driving rain. Back to Paris around two, visit to the consulate and signature of all the papers — I am efficient, as my father was. Then we go to spend an hour at the Salon, then try on dresses, and that is all.
The priest to dinner; I amuse myself recounting scenes from life in Poltava, and as Paul feels the barbs, he slips away after dinner.
The holidays are over — I am better, and it is time to get on with things.