Wednesday, 7 November 1883

I have finished the study and am going to work on the painting. I have a slight headache, and as this is a rarity for me I am glad of it. M. Safonoff presented his friend Ex——, something — a difficult name. These two prospects,¹ Bojidar, and the Engelhardts dined here. I slept on the sofa to the sounds of the piano, lulled, feeling through my half-sleep my half-headache and my half-heartbreak. Bojidar, Dina, and the others are speaking of the voyage to America as though it were the announcement of his marriage to Mother Mackay.² It is all the same to me — since I do not interest him.