Friday, 28 March 1873

At the promenade (blue dress) — not too many people, though enough. Then with my aunt to Manby's, but nothing decided.
That annoys me considerably! Above all, I shall have nothing to wear to the pigeon shooting — and it is precisely there that I should like to be dressed well, prettily, simply, elegantly, because I should like him to notice me. This is nonsense. If God wills that he notice me, it will be in any dress! I have only to pray God, then! And I pray Him with all the strength of my soul. Because I love.
In the evening, unexpectedly, to the Théâtre Français for Tartuffe by Molière. It is beautiful, I do not deny it, but at the same time tiring. I revived for the second piece, Cendrillon, very well performed (I had on my blue silk dress — not very smart).
The theater was full; we arrived for Cendrillon. Elegant company. Beside us were the Whites. I chatted with Clara about sea baths, horseback riding, etc. etc. On the way out we saw them again — the brunette is livelier and more sympathetic. I judge by the way she presses one's hand: she has a living heart, whereas Clara....
On the whole, I am glad I went. One might think that what I write is calculated, because I always finish at the bottom of the page — but that is not so; I always find something to say. For example, now, if I were at the bottom of the page I would have stopped, but I have room and I take advantage of it to say how all my wishes are directed toward Hamilton. I can never say it enough — how I love him, how I desire that he should love me. Oh! let him make our acquaintance at this pigeon shooting — how I should wish it, my God.