Saturday, 1 February 1873

At the promenade, Sophie bought a lovely hat; I bought a very pretty pair of ankle boots.
Once again, I think very clearly about my feelings. No, nothing is muddled deep down.
For Boreel, I have no love. No, I have no love. Here is how I have defined it all: I love them both equally, that is to say Boreel and the Duke the same. Therefore I can only give my preference now to the wealthiest, and also to the one who will love me best, since after all they are equal to me.
Yet I know that I love the Duke more — not because he is a duke, but for all his qualities.
I know, I am certain, that if I prefer him, all this gives me great pleasure; when I see Boreel, I cannot do without seeing one or the other.
If when I see Boreel I feel joy, it is a ray of sunlight that penetrates my heart when I see the Duke.
How strange, such a state!
All things considered, I still prefer the Duke. I should so like to know his age; I think he is twenty-eight. Ah! if only he would leave that woman — she does not love him.
Tomorrow she will love another who gives her money. She will ruin the Duke... My God, help me!
Inserted itemannotation de Marie, 1884
[Annotation: 1884. Stupidity, naïveté.]

Notes

Marie’s own note, added in 1884 when she reread her early notebooks. ↩