Saturday, 10 May 1873

Fine weather. At eleven, to the bath (pink dress). A fairly good swim. But there were any number of handsome Nice locals in the water, which annoyed me considerably. Coming out of the house, Maman and I went down to the seashore, where a few poor old fishermen were pulling in their net. We waited for the result: six fish — what misery! Maman bought them, giving a little extra.
She went to the house to pay the man, and I stayed waiting for her at the promenade, leaning against a tree. There is no one; I saw no one except Boreel's sister, the Baronne de Palland-Nermen. She passed, looking at me, and even turned once. Probably her brother told her some silly things. Then we got into the carriage that was waiting for us.
At the promenade (new dress — good). We were going to the Howards' when halfway there we met them, and having got out and sent the carriage away, we walked with them. Lise looks up to me as her superior and would like my friendship. But I am already for Hélène, though I am not yet entirely in her confidence — but that will come. As for me, I would never have told everything to a friend, and I do not consider friendship between two young girls solid. I have never had a friend and truly cannot account for what it is.
I cannot believe in friendship; I have never felt it. And then, it can exist between two men — for instance, two bon vivants who go to the bottom of nothing, who live without burdening themselves with useless torments, and who are friends for a hunting party, a supper, etc., etc. And it is generally this friendship, which looks light and frivolous, that is the most sincere and most devoted in time of need. Between women, it can exist in the same terms — to be friends without wanting to fathom the depths; friends for amusements, pleasure outings, dress. But it is very difficult to be friends seriously and positively. One must not concern oneself with it — it will come naturally, or else one cannot make it happen.
In the evening, to the French Theater — Robin des Bois, Weber. The theater full (blue dress, not bad) — all who remain in Nice. Boring, stupid.