Sunday, 30 March 1873

I dreamed of the Duke. He was wearing on his back three forms of jackets, of the most extravagant kind; he was at our house looking at my paintings — he appreciated them. I spoke to him; I was moved and could scarcely conceal it. He spoke to me very kindly; we recalled Berthe, and he said to me:
— Oh yes! Berthe — I used to talk with her, I used to make her sit down and make her talk about you. [Crossed out: She knew all sorts of things about you.]
Oh, my God! Then he was talking to her about me, and it was for me that he spoke to her! How happy I am — at last my prayer is answered. Then he brought a sort of receipt slip, or I know not what, asking for an address for clothes, I think; he was in the grand salon and I, not knowing this, entered and began to speak to him as if by chance, timidly, in an undertone — he encouraged me by his frank manner. Then I saw mountains that were depicted in the painting he was looking at.
It is strange — I felt nothing extraordinary; I was not as excited as I am when I am awake — not only on seeing him, but merely at the sight of his name written or spoken.
In short, all night I dreamed of him. I was happy, and I said to myself: here at last is my wish fulfilled. I was calm, for I was happy and satisfied. These transports that come over me at the mere sight of his name come because I am not sure of my happiness and I desire it ardently. But when one is happy, when one has what one desires and loves, one is calm.
And so in my dream I was calm, for I had nothing more to desire. I told myself I was dreaming so as not to interrupt my happiness; I let myself drift gently, with calm, enjoying my happiness.
What was my surprise on waking to find that all this happiness was but a dream!
I looked at him ceaselessly; I spoke of him to those around me, mocking him to conceal my joy and my love for him. He spoke to me with tenderness (not precisely, but I know what I mean). But he was not quite himself — smaller and less handsome. I thought myself in port, but on waking I found myself in the open sea, in the midst of the storm. [Five lines cancelled]
[Written across the page: Yes, I know — even now.]
As yesterday, and as perhaps for a long time yet — until he comes to lead me to shore.
It is a commonplace, old-fashioned phrase, but it expresses what I mean and I use it.
In the morning at half past eight on the terrace (blue and grey dress, smart). To church (the same dress), then an hour of piano. Abramovitch came to take his leave. They told him we were out; I watched from the window — he came up and stayed a few minutes.
In the yellow salon, the curtains drawn, the light very beautiful. Then to the promenade (same dress, grey veil — very smart) — enormous crowds. Gioia in blue. Mademoiselle de Galve in a wide-brimmed grey felt hat, one side turned up. Oh! how I should like a hat like that. It is so graceful. I should like the same hat, the same style of dress — how distinguished it is; I would never take it off. Nothing has ever pleased me so much. It is magnificent for a young girl. It recalls the young ladies of olden times — tall, slender, well-made, beautiful! Nothing pleases me as much! (They will say I go into raptures over a dress as over the one I love.) I was much looked at today.... Today I made, from a very small lithograph, on a large oval, life-size, a very fine portrait of a beautiful woman.
Maman and my aunt to dinner at the Howards'.
How I wish I were dressed like Mademoiselle de Galve.

Notes

In English in the original.