Sunday, 23 February 1873

In the morning I was late and did not go to church. Going downstairs to take my bath I lost this book. What terror I felt when I noticed its absence. I was on the point of weeping, like a madwoman, but then I found it on the floor.
After lunch Barnola came and told us about Mme Sabatier’s ball. Boreel was dressed as a bandit.
in the margin
Last year he was dressed as a knight, in jacket and mantilla.
Then to the Visconti terrace (vicuna outfit) — a great many people there, quite elegant. The carnival was brilliant, magnificent, since it is the young men of the colony who organise it. There were a great many magnificent floats.
Nearly all of society was promenading below, in carriages, in white dominoes and iron masks. There was a costumed cavalcade, composed of young men — among them Boreel in his bandit costume. Truly he is very handsome, but so handsome, like nobody else; it is true that he is the handsomest man in all of Nice — one must be just. The entire procession was brilliant, enormous, grandiose, magnificent. (There was a float of society ladies in Nice violets, very fine — everyone masked.) And it passed us several times.
I bombarded Boreel a great deal, and when he appeared we cried out “Boreel! Boreel!” loudly. Another time he smiled while looking at us. I told myself that if he passed once more I would throw him flowers, but he did not come, and we left. On the Pont Neuf, we saw Canaprien and Maman threw them flowers. Then Sonitchka — we had the carriage stopped to speak with her, but she only stopped at the end of the bridge. We spoke with her for a minute when all at once I notice that Boreel is near the carriage, watching us. I began to bury my face in my bouquet, but it made no difference — I blushed a great deal and he saw it. And then came a blunder.
in the margin
This blunder makes me blush even now. There are things one always remembers and which torment one. Truly it was dreadful!
I wanted to throw bouquets to Sonitchka but I threw them too close to Boreel. Oh! without meaning to! I do not know — it was stronger than I. While throwing these flowers, I was calling out: Sophie Grigorievna! Encore! encore! He looked at the bouquets I was throwing as though saying to himself: “I see — these are meant for me.” I do not know why I looked at him while throwing the flowers (he was without costume, on foot) — perhaps it is my imagination... but no, he looked at them, the flowers. Let him think what he likes; after all, what does it matter to me? Oh! now he is certain that I love him — I blushed under his gaze. He is very, very fine. He was on horseback and in costume — very fine indeed. But I am vexed about those bouquets; I would not want him to think of me like that — it displeases me very much.
in the margin
These flowers will torment me all my life, every time I remember them. It is true.
All in all I had a very good time. I do not know what will happen, but for the moment Boreel pleases me — I cannot deny it, that would be impossible.
Perhaps if I see the Duke all this will disappear, but for the moment... I love him and he knows it It will pass no doubt, but if not, what is to be done? How unfortunate that he is not Baron Finot!
in the margin
Little fool.
Oh! but if he loves another, I do not wish to love him — no, no. In the evening we went by carriage to see the electric illumination of the Cours and the Rue Saint-François-de-Paule. Very fine indeed — the flags and coloured lanterns gave a magnificent, fairy-like aspect to it all. We met the Anitchkoffs on the Cours and went with them to Rumpelmayer’s for hot chocolate and ices. We were: Maman, my aunt, Sophie, Emile, Dina, myself, M. and Mme Anitchkoff. Then home. I am very pleased with today. Above all with having seen Boreel — that is what made me gay and happy.