Thursday, 7 August 1873

I was on my feet at seven. Until nine I read Gulliver's Travels. Then we went out (grey dress, good) — first to Francine's; my dress is not finished, rather pretty, not too much so, never mind. Then at the hotel we lunched; beside us was a gentleman, Russian I believe, who stared at us a great deal. The whole time I was saying droll things and we laughed. He wanted to laugh too, but contained himself. It was very amusing. At the Exposition it is very hot. I bought two pincushions shaped like jockey caps and a flask for Helene. These poor merchants have no one and are very happy when one buys a few trifles from them. We dined at the Russian restaurant — the chicken is rather good tonight.
There is a grand dinner at Schonbrunn given by Fritz for the Chat [sic] and afterwards, a superb fireworks display. My aunt, instead of procuring tickets, puts on her usual airs.
We have returned from Schonbrunn. Having arrived, we wanted to get tickets, but it is too late. All Vienna is there. I thought there would be few people — it is the contrary, though few foreigners. Pretty dresses. As we could not get admission, we were obliged to return. I am furious! (I am writing before the mirror; I have tears in my eyes and curled lips — I am very droll and pretty, my hair quite golden by candlelight, and this flattering mirror.)
On the way back, we watched everyone pass — the ladies invited to dinner and the people of the Court.
I am doubly enraged — first, at not being at the fireworks; second, that I feel this is not where I belong. I must be at the Court. I must shine and love the world; it is my destiny — I cannot live otherwise. How tiresome that this Hamilton pleases me so! I wish I were made of wood, to marry a man very rich, very titled, very highly placed, and very much at my feet. I throw barbs now and then at my aunt with her grand airs, and they sting her. She is vexed that I am deprived of a pleasure but will not show it. I take pleasure in appreciating nothing, because I am deeply bored. I pretend to see nothing and continue my attacks. I am not distressed at missing a fireworks display — I should not even have taken any pleasure in going as we were to go. I want to be there, at the palace, at dinner. I am in general overwrought. I want to weep; I want to beat someone! Oh! my God, when shall I be what I so ardently desire to be? When will I no longer be tortured! Forgive me! But be indulgent — I am only a woman! I have no resignation! I have neither a sublime character nor sublime impulses; I am only an ambitious and frivolous human creature! Ambitious — very ambitious!
My God, have pity on my misery — forgive and protect me!!!
I know I must discharge my ill temper on someone. Ah! no — I must keep my promise. I contain myself, but it costs me.
I am going to write to Maman.
[Annotation: 1875. In this letter to Maman, I do not contain myself at all.]

Notes

In English in the original.
In English in the original.