Monday, 24 March 1873

In the morning at seven o'clock Maman called me and showed me a letter from Mademoiselle Collignon addressed to my aunt, in which she says among other things that she can no longer bear "the impertinent and vain character of Marie." She wants to leave. Before, I wanted it too, and I thought it would not cause me any pain — but now I remembered her when she was kind, etc. But on seeing her, these regrets dissipated, because she is no longer what she was. Maman, too, before wanted her to leave; now she puts it all on my back and misses her, displays all her qualities — it is always the same: the worst thing, once lost, appears very fine.
With Monsieur Bensa, at the painting lesson, we spoke of the Duke and he told us, speaking of Audiffret's fortune, that he must be rich if he gives gifts of twenty thousand francs. We asked to whom? It was to Gioia. Bensa said he had been walking a fortnight ago with a gentleman when he noticed a beautiful woman with beautiful hair, around eleven in the morning, on foot, and Monsieur Audiffret was speaking to her; he asked who she was and was told "the Duchess of Hamilton" — but he said, how can she accept a gift of twenty thousand francs? And so they explained the whole affair to him: that she is not his wife but a kept woman living in high style who follows him, and that it began in Nice. I shall give the conversation as in a comedy — otherwise it is too long.
[In the margin: At first glance, Bensa took young Audiffret for a stable boy and was astonished that the Duchess spoke to him.]
Bensa:
— But the Duke of Hamilton is rich; she has no need of others.
The stranger:
— Women like that always have needs.
Bensa:
— But how does he bear it?
The stranger:
— Oh! He pays it no great attention; it is indifferent to him.
These last words seemed to me to characterize the Duke so well: what a character! He is not like the others — he is a good fellow, carefree, who lives at his pleasure and does not torment himself needlessly. At the same time, a bit of a rake — in short, a spoiled good child. This character pleases me, and I love him for his character too; these words gave me pleasure, because I would never betray his trust — oh! but he will not look upon me as he does her; I shall be his wife! His wife! How dare I hope for so great a happiness? Is it not presumptuous on my part? But I do nothing; I only desire and pray God — and perhaps He will grant me this grace! He is so good to me! We spoke enormously of the Duke all day long — Bensa, and everyone, even Markevitch, about his villa, his property, about her, a great deal, etc. etc. I spoke of his fortune with Dina, at some length. How happy I am when they speak of him. I love him so! This is when I feel that I truly love.
At the promenade (vicuna outfit) — few people.
I went to New Scotland and took samples for sea-bathing costumes, then to Manby's. I saw Gioia from afar, with Cora probably, and a landau with two gentlemen following her. I tremble and am all agitated when I see her carriage from afar. I envy her — I envy her beauty — I envy everything in her. It is wrong, but it is so. But one must not think I am certain of becoming his wife — it is perhaps a dream, a beautiful dream; in any case, it would be madness. I do nothing but hope, desire, and pray. I came out of New Scotland drawn by the familiar noise, and I saw her carriage with one horse running toward the station. Perhaps they are expecting him today. Oh! but patience — I think he will come for the pigeon shooting, and then!... Ah! my God, let me meet him there. My God, it is only You who can do the impossible!
I love him in reality. I love him! If he is not very rich, I love him all the same — provided he has enough to live well.