Sunday, 11 May 1873

To church (new dress — not bad); it is very hot. From church we brought Nathalie Patton home. Then at one o'clock to the Savelieffs'. Madame is dying; she has already been unconscious and speechless for two days, and extremely ill for four. We entered the room; old Mme Patton was beside her. I looked at the bed and at first saw nothing, searching for the patient with my eyes; then, having drawn closer, I saw her head — for she has so wasted away that from a strong, tall, enormous woman, she is almost thin. Mouth open, eyes closed or slightly open at moments but veiled and dead, breathing heavy and labored. We spoke in low voices; she made no sign. The doctors say she feels nothing, but I believe she hears and understands everything around her, yet can neither cry out nor say anything.
When Maman touched her, she uttered a sort of moaning. Old Savelieff met us on the staircase; he took Maman's hand, and bursting into tears and sobbing, said: Pay no attention — the sickest ones... what is the use, you see, pay attention. Poor man — my heart was aching at it. Then I kissed him in silence. Then his daughter arrived; silently she approached the bed, and then, calling her mother by tender names, began to weep. Poor thing! Five days she has been in this state. To see one's mother dying day by day! I went with the old man into another
room. He begged me to stay with him. How he has aged these last days! Everyone has a consolation — his daughter has her children, her husband; and he alone, having lived with his wife for thirty years — that is something. Did he live well or badly with her? But habit alone counts for much. I went back several times to the patient. The housekeeper is grief-stricken — it is good to see in a servant such great attachment to her mistress. The old man has become almost a child. But the most dreadful misfortune is for his daughter. For one can have several brothers, sisters; one can have another husband; one can have another friend — but a mother! She is unique, and no love in the world can be compared to that. We left at last, for the carriage had to be sent to fetch the Howard children, who are coming to spend the afternoon with us. On arriving, we found the Countess de Mouzay and her daughter; we stayed to talk until the Howards arrived, and those ladies left.
We stayed some time in the salon, then I took the boys to the dining room and we played a dozen games of table croquet. They play well, and with my love for this game, it is truly a great pleasure to have good players.
Meanwhile, Dina and the girls ran about, screamed, tickled each other — how stupid! These two little boys, almost babies, are well-bred, know how to converse, have good manners, and behave like grown-ups. The girls take you by the hands, the waist, the neck, in such a way that everything is rumpled. But despite that, I like them well enough — not like the eldest; the other one I love very much. After eating fruit and sweets, we went down to the garden. Then around a quarter past six they left. I do not much care for these amusements. The girls did nothing but kiss me — no doubt it is very good of them, and I would be ungrateful not to appreciate their love for me, but it is not very entertaining.

Notes

In English in the original.