Thursday, 23 June 1873

In the morning I made a scene with Maman and my aunt. I told them everything I had inside me. I could hold it in no longer. The bottle had to uncork — there was too much gas. I wept; Maman wept. It lasted two and a half hours by the clock. I asked Maman's forgiveness. Just at that moment, they told me that the house on the rue de France across from us was on fire. I run; we are all at the windows. They are pulling the carriages from the coach houses; women are coming out carrying children. The house itself is not yet on fire — it is a courtyard surrounded by four houses, full of hay. The flames are strong. But the stupid locals are always the same! They flee without knowing where and do nothing to stop the fire, and place themselves at a distance the better to enjoy the spectacle. I shouted to a woman carrying a rather large child — my size, no doubt ill — to leave him at our house. But she is stupid and preferred to drag him along and whimper. Paul and Walitsky went to see; the houses are beginning to burn.
Oh! if this were Russia! It would long since have been extinguished. Our fire brigade, when you hear it a league away, is fearsome. Each quarter has one with twenty horses, the firemen in golden helmets, bells in abundance (like Hamilton). The noise his carriage makes arriving from a distance reminds me of the fire brigade. After half an hour, at last, a barrel dragged by ten men arrived in triumph. What a pitiful sight! And four soldiers — with rifles. No doubt they mean to put out the fire with those. Before their arrival, the fire had stopped of its own accord.
I return then to what I was saying. It was a farewell scene to all the coarse things I have done, to all the meanness, to everything wicked and impertinent I have said. I am stopping now; I am changing completely — a complete reform in my dress and in my character. I shall become good, kind, gentle. If they pick a quarrel with me, I shall walk away. I shall try to be the good spirit of the house; I shall do everything in the world so that there are no more quarrels. If there were at least a reason! But over nothing — it is dreadful. I am going to reconcile everything, arrange everything for the best; I shall anticipate the wishes of Papa, Maman, my aunt; I shall be kind to the others. In a word, I am going to make myself esteemed, sought after, and loved by all, from the lowest beggar to duke and king. It is a promise I make to God. Since I desire so great a happiness, I must deserve it — it is in this way that I hope to obtain it. It is a difficult promise to keep, very difficult, but the thing I want is still more difficult and extraordinary. So it is precisely by fulfilling it strictly that I dare hope for something. I swear therefore to God solemnly and without returning to it again, to do what I say. If I break my oath a single time, I lose everything. I address myself at the same time to the Holy Virgin for help in this difficult undertaking. I beg Her, with Her Son, to guide and protect me.
They sent me twice to the Duchess's about this purchase. This pavilion is too enclosed and small. We wanted the one on the Promenade, but she asks two hundred thousand francs — a hundred thousand for the other; it is too dear. I believe we shall simply buy at Saint-Philippe and build; that is best.
I was coming home when I saw Paul arriving. I only had time to kiss him — he was going to bathe. We all went after dinner to the villa. It is not ugly — very pretty, on the contrary. It is very fine; we were wrong to be so difficult. Our belongings are there; we have nearly arranged everything. I am very satisfied with the house.
Then with Mme Anitchkoff to London House to buy fruit, then home. About the fire.