Wednesday, 2 April

Fine but windy. In the morning my first sea bath. I must say before anything that today is a day of events:
1. Sea baths
2. Letter from Paris about the dress
3. Madame Mortier has a grey hat
4. Madame Vigier.
In the morning, then, I set out on foot with Maman and Walitsky (black taffeta dress, Dina's); we met the Howards who were also going to the baths by carriage, and we got in.
There was almost no one — the little grand dukes.
The sea stormy and cold; I swam a fair amount — on the whole content. Then to the promenade for one hour only, having spent an hour at the baths; that is how I shall always do (grey and blue dress, very smart) — few people. At Madame Mortier's with Maman, we chose a hat for Dina, and I said I should like a hat like Mademoiselle de Galve's; she told me she would be receiving similar ones from Paris tomorrow. I am very, very pleased, for I did not expect it.
Then in came the Vicomtesse Vigier, horribly painted — even hideously so. I blushed because I thought she had not returned Maman's visit, and I did not greet her; behind my back I hear her address Maman, extending her hand with extreme kindness. She asked whether it was Maman who called on her, and that she had looked for her at the Villa Meynadier, that she did not know where. And a great many other things. We spoke of hats. She said at last that she hoped Maman would count this as a visit, that it was not her fault, and that she hopes next year, etc. etc. — for she leaves tomorrow. I am very satisfied. I thought she did not wish to return the visit, but she does not seem so; she is charming, though ridiculously dressed and painted. At last we have an acquaintance from society — not all these dirty, antediluvian, old Russians who come to our house. And I hope God will fulfill my prayer! Oh! thank you, my God — here is another article of my prayers fulfilled.
Ah! now comes — (here I was interrupted by Madame de Daillens who came in; we chatted for some time; she is very nice to me, she speaks to me as to an equal in age; I like her well enough).
I resume, then — now comes the great prayer: to know the Duke, for tomorrow is the pigeon shooting. No, I can no longer express myself well; I have lost the words — yesterday I had them. I say only that tomorrow is the pigeon shooting.