midday
After two hours of driving , my Excellency is conducted into the lower storey of a summer villa and installed in a small , very cheerful little room with light blue hangings . At night there is sleeplessness as before , but in the morning I do not put a good face upon it and listen to my wife , but lie in bed . I do not sleep , but lie in the drowsy , half-conscious condition in which you know you are not asleep , but dreaming . At midday I get up and from habit sit down at my table , but I do not work now ; I amuse myself with French books in yellow covers , sent me by Katya . Of course , it would be more patriotic to read Russian authors , but I must confess I cherish no particular liking for them . With the exception of two or three of the older writers , all our literature of today strikes me as not being literature , but a special sort of home industry , which exists simply in order to be encouraged , though people do not readily make use of its products . The very best of these home products can not be called remarkable and can not be sincerely praised without qualification .