Thursday, 5 June 1873

My aunt is well, but still weak; the day before yesterday she dressed fully.
“He who dwells under the protection of the Most High shall find rest in the abode of the Almighty. He shall say to the Lord: Thou art my support and my defence. He is my God; I have placed in Him all my hope. Because he has held fast to me, I shall deliver him; I shall raise him up because he has known my name.”
These are the words on which I have founded all my hopes; without them I should be very unhappy.
At four o’clock I went out to take my blue silk dress to be remade. I copied a little medallion on my washbasin: from looking at it every day, I conceived the idea of having my dress trimmed that way. It is truly very pretty and above all graceful — at Auda’s on the Avenue de la Gare.
We dined at five so as to fetch Lise and Aggie at six and take them to the concert (pink dress). I went all alone; they were ready, and Mlle Gaspard came with us. She is very nice. It is the first time I have talked with her.
At the concert... nothing. Stupid Niçois! Ah! I forgot — this afternoon we went to see the new theatre, “Les Folies Niçoises.” It is very pretty, small but pretty. Today is the opening.
From the concert the children came to our house for about half an hour.
Mlle Collignon leaves tomorrow. It is a little sad, all the same — even a dog one has lived with for a month gives one a pang when it goes.
written across the page
Especially a dog.
Regardless of whether our relations were good or bad, I have a worm in my heart.
As we passed Gioia’s villa, the little terrace on the right caught my eye. It was there, the year before last, on the way to the races, that I saw him sitting with her. A dish before them. He sat in his majestic way — noble and light at the same time — a cake in his hand. I remember all these trifles so well.
As we passed, we looked at him too. He is the only one of whom Maman speaks; she likes him very much, and I am delighted by it. She said: “There is Hamilton, eating cakes — well, that is quite natural; he is at home.”
I did not love him — or rather I had not yet become aware of that sort of turmoil in me when I saw him. Only now do I understand, and I remember the slightest details concerning him, the slightest words he spoke. When Rémy came to tell me at the races at Baden that he had just spoken with the Duke of Hamilton, my heart gave a jolt I did not understand. Then when, at those same races, la Gioia was seated beside us and speaking of him, I was scarcely listening. Oh! what would I not have given to hear those words today! Then when I passed the English shop he was there — he looked at me as if to say:
“How funny this little girl is — what does she imagine? — how ridiculous!” — with a mocking air. He was right; I was very funny then with my silk dresses — I was ridiculous!
I did not look at him. Then at last, every time I saw him — every time — my heart leapt and struck so hard against my breast that it hurt. I do not know if anyone has felt this, but when I see him my heart pounds so hard that I am afraid it will be heard. Before, I thought the heart was only a piece of flesh; now I see it communicates with the spirit. I understand now when people say: “My heart pounded.” Before, at the theatre, when they said it, I thought nothing of it; now I recognise the emotions I have felt.