let them hang down to the floor. I think of Procrustes and his bed....




April 6.


I wake up at five. The sky is grey. There is a cold, unpleasant wind that
reminds one of Moscow. It is dull. I wait for the church bells and go to
late Mass. In the cathedral it is all very charming, decorous, and not
boring. The choir sings well, not at all in a plebeian style, and the
congregation entirely consists of young ladies in olive-green dresses and
chocolate-coloured jackets....




April 8, 9, and 10.


Frightfully dull. It is cold and grey.... During all my stay in Taganrog I
could only do justice to the following things: remarkably good ring rolls
sold at the market, the Santurninsky wine, fresh caviare, excellent crabs
and uncle's genuine hospitality. Everything else is poor and not to be
envied. The young ladies here are not bad, but it takes some time to get
used to them. They are abrupt in their movements, frivolous in their
attitude to men, run away from their parents with actors, laugh loudly,
easily fall in love, whistle to dogs, drink wine, etc....