Wednesday, 28 May 1873

I bathed in the sea; there was hardly anyone.
Mme de Mouzay invited us to dinner today. It is her birthday. I did not want to go, but as she begged so much in her letter I went (pink dress). I hoped there would not be those young men of the fifth rate — and French, which lowers the grade still further. But unfortunately there was one, and I placed him between me and Dina. I believe Mme de Mouzay thinks she does me a favour by seating him beside us. But it is simply a punishment for me. As much as I love the society of men of the world — people who, I do not know how to say it — well, of the first quality — just as much do I detest the society of these detestable men.
I was rewarded, however — we had the most famous scoundrel in all the city, and more: the Reverend Père Lavigne. He is a former Jesuit monk, expelled from the convent, who came to Nice without a single sou. Now he is rich, eats and drinks more than well, and has built a splendid church on the Avenue de la Gare from the proceeds of his collections and his sermons. He speaks well — but he is a Jesuit, a scoundrel, a Catholic priest, an aristocrat — that says it all. He preached all sorts of absurdities to us at dinner: "One must pray and do nothing to be in heaven. If one works all day, one merits nothing; if one prays all day, one is in heaven." Scoundrel that he is! We are going to see his church on Friday at two o'clock. He
has much success with his sermons; as for me, I would not have given him a sou for all the nonsense he talks. It is a curiosity, however, to see the Reverend Père Lavigne, and I am not sorry to have gone to this dinner.
We returned at nine o'clock.
I am going to teach Palajka the Russian alphabet.