Thursday, 6 February 1873

At noon, to Monaco. A great day for me, greater than the races, because the Duke will be there and will take part in the shooting, whereas he does not take part in the races, even though he is commissioner.
Grant, my God, that he may make my acquaintance.
Of all that I write, I try to correct as much as I can — not the spelling, that would be too difficult; I do not correct, I make mistakes, I state my feelings and barely correct errors of place and persons.
My style today is not sublime, but that of a few months ago was quite simply abominable. My little tricks and explanations are amusing and I blush at them, but I leave everything as it is.
It is an important document for literature and for posterity!
In the days when I wrote my first notebooks, it seemed to me they would be cited as models in literature textbooks. (What an absurdity!)
Arriving at the shooting range, I learn that the Duke has been disqualified. Well then, I shall not see him again — I have no luck.
A great many Englishmen dressed magnificently — in the dirtiest checked suits. Baron Merck had a divine shirt and cravat, a pink shirt. How sad that I did not see the Duke! I wanted it so much; I had begun my day delightfully, but what sadness this evening!
The whole time, his yacht cruised back and forth before the terrace of the shooting range.
The grandstand reminded me of the one at Baden and the one in Nice.
My God, let me see the Duke — I beseech You by Your supreme grace — tomorrow at the races.

Notes

Hors concours: “out of the competition”, not allowed to compete for the prizes. Marie does not say why. ↩