Saturday, 26 April 1873

At ten o'clock the Howards came, but it was raining; however, we resolved to wait until the rain stopped. Indeed the rain did stop, but it was grey and cold (vicuna garment). We set off at last.
The grown-ups — my aunt, M. and Mme Howard, and M. Copeland — in one carriage; the girls — Hélène, Lise, Aggie, and I — in another; and Mlle Collignon and Mlle Gaspard with the two boys in the third.
Dina still has a bad foot, and Maman is ill because of that scoundrel Tolstoy!
The weather was doubtful. We arrived at our destination; it began to rain a little, then rather hard, but after wandering around the area we found an empty villa and resolved to enter and have lunch there. The maid opened the rooms downstairs for us. We set the table in a sort of conservatory (we are on Mont Vinaigre) — we ate, we drank, we laughed, we were content; everything was good and there was plenty of everything.
The weather cleared and we returned in open carriages. The children are charming. Hélène has something of my character — she says she does not like flowers, beautiful views, etc. etc.; it is like me, and in many other things as well. She loves society — she is right! Lise is more sentimental; Aggie has a great deal of wit.
The boys are nice, amiable to the extreme, and attentive. After lunch we took a short walk, then returned home pleased with our day at three o'clock. At five, I went out on foot with Mlle Collignon (new ecru dress, good) — it was extremely cold; I had my velvet cape.
In the evening, to the French Theater (white dress, hair down — good; hair up would have been very good), a fair number of people.
Princess Souvoroff had two boxes — in one, she, her daughter, and a gentleman; in the other, her retinue and her son.
She is not all that beautiful — there are more beautiful women who are not as much admired. She is beautiful, yes, but her wealth, her name, her position, her extravagance, her gambling, her habits are more attractive than her beauty. All that draws people, and if one adds to it a fairly handsome face, then one sees perfection. And when one is like her, everything succeeds — she has all she desires, and her face takes on a satisfied air, content with everything, which adds enormously to her natural charms.
[In the margin: I saw this evening the expression of omnipotence and could not put it into words.]
I would truly like to be like her, in position and even in everything.
Oh! if I could have the Duke of Hamilton! I could then be like her! (That name I have just written — when I look at it, my heart beats.) He is perfection: rich, titled, noble, a good fellow — and the greatest of all is that I adore him!
That is all I can desire! If I could have it, I would be the happiest woman, for since I have not had it from the beginning, I would know better how to appreciate it.