“On the road to ...
“What is more wearisome than a railway journey and tiresome companions? An Italian, an indescribable fool, has tacked himself on to me, and I hardly know how to get rid of him. He does not even know where he is going, nor where to change his money. I changed mine at a Jew’s in Cracow. What a bore it all is! Sometimes I think of Sasha and Modi, and my heart is fit to break. At Volochisk great agitation, and my nerves upset. With the exception of the Italian, my fellow-travellers are bearable. I scarcely slept all night. The old man is a retired officer with the old, original whiskers. At the present moment the Italian is boring a lady. Lord, what an ass! I must get rid of him by some kind of dodge.”
“June 29th (July 11th).
“I had four long hours to wait in Myslovitz; at last I am on the road to Breslau. The Italian is enchanted to think I shall travel with him to Liggia. He bores me to extinction. Oh, what an idiot! At Myslovitz I had an indifferent meal, and afterwards went for a walk through the pretty town. I can imagine my Italian’s face, and what he will say, when I suddenly vanish at Breslau! He will be left sitting there! My money goes like water!”
“Jean Prosco, Constantinople,
“Breslau.
“After all I had not the heart to deceive my Italian. I told him beforehand I intended to stop in Breslau. He almost dissolved into tears, and gave me his name, which I have put down above.”
“3 a.m.
“How I love solitude sometimes! I must confess I am only staying here in order to put off my arrival in Dresden and the society of the Jurgensons. To sit like this—alone, to be silent, and to think!...”