Monday, 21 April 1873

Grey and cool, dreary. All through Holy Week I was neither going to bed nor getting up at regular hours; today is the first day.
I took a sea bath, then went out with Maman (ecru tunic, new hat, good). When I put on the hat Maman said:
— Ah! the Duchess of Westminster!
They said that hat was charming, and I myself find the same — it gives such a noble, graceful, elegant air.
Say what you will, dress makes an enormous difference. I, with two little braids, a Nice-made hat, a grey light wool dress; and I with my hair up, well coiffed, a Parisian dress and that hat — they are two different things.
[In the margin: Our reception day. A quantity of people came, even Mme Patton — in a word, all the Russians we know, and foreigners.]
I am so extraordinarily sad! At the promenade (blue and grey dress, good), almost no one. It is not the absence of people that makes me sad — I do not know what it is, but I cannot find my place; I am utterly unhappy, and without cause. Could it be a presentiment? Oh! my God, save me! Spare me misfortune! Keep misfortune from me! Restore my cheerfulness — I am so unhappy like this.
Mrs Prodgers has left.