Thursday, 20 March 1873

After long setbacks doing my hair (black silk dress, hat with roses), to the promenade in a pair with Mademoiselle Collignon. We went to ask whether the Misses Patton could come to the concert with us. Monsieur and Madame were very kind: they had a lesson. So we went alone to the concert, which now continues until half past four. An extraordinary quantity of people — such as I have not seen in a long time. I was charmed, delighted; there were truly enormous crowds, one could hardly find a place. Everyone — that is to say, the elegant world (this line means the elegant world) — was there: how it amuses me.
I saw Boreel several times on foot; he was crossing the promenade before our carriage as we were coming out of the Rue du Lavoir. He looked at me quite a lot, but I am not satisfied with it. [In the margin: It was this day that I particularly noticed how badly he walks.]
But I must forget him and speak no more of him! Nor think of him anymore! And so I have forgotten him; not to speak of him — I speak of him as of all the others, except that I name him separately, because I follow his intentions; I want him to love me; and no longer to think of him — I think of him no longer; truly, I am indifferent to him; I find him better than the others, it is true, but nothing more. [In the margin: That he should love me! What stupidity at my age!]
And if I write something about him, it is simply because I wish to preserve what I feel now — for if I do not speak of him, I shall think just the same about making him love me. So it is better that I write, because it will amuse me to read it later. No, no, I do not even want to write, because it sustains him in my mind. I shall know that I doubtless noticed when I saw him and whether he looked at me much, but I shall write nothing more because I do not deserve anything if I cannot make this sacrifice — no, it cannot be called a sacrifice; I merely wanted to write out of curiosity for later. [In the margin: It is so badly written that it disgusts me.]
I am quite unhappy that I can no longer occupy myself with him, nor see the Duke. I am quite sad that I can no longer amuse myself with Boreel, and I am glad of this sadness, for at least I am resisting something; it will last a while longer, especially after having seen him, but I shall master myself and it will pass — I say this so as to write nothing more after. I saw Gioia like a queen today. She looked angry. Oh! if it were over with him! In the evening Barnola came; I charged him with finding out the name of the lady who laughs. I cannot write more because I am afraid someone will come in; I am in my room. Oh! my God, give me the Duke — [Overwritten: a small coin, idiot]