Tuesday, 12 August 1873

A dressmaker came and brought several outfits; my aunt and Dina ordered a dress each. I am waiting for Paris.
Yesterday, having finished my journal, I asked my aunt:
"Well then, are we going to Paris?"
She told me no, in a very decided manner. I insist; she refuses still. I began to despair and to feel ashamed of my confidence in my own power. But as I had promised to make no scene, I conducted the siege very gently — I merely begged! But my aunt was simply growing furious; I do not know what came over her. She says we have not enough money, but it is not true — we still have several thousand francs, and to stay in Paris and buy two or three dresses, it is enough. After half an hour of chaos — for I could say nothing but "I beg you, please, let us go," etc. — I manage to reason with her, to calculate the hotel, the carriage, etc., and I prove that we have more than enough; but then she begins another story, that because of the lawsuit and all sorts of things, she cannot. She declares at last, very firmly, that she does not want to. I continue to beg her in a very humble voice; I wanted to explode, but my promise held me back. She returns again to the money; I demonstrate again that we have enough; I beg, I nearly weep, and at last I triumph! At first she said, when I begged her to say we would go, that she would tell me tomorrow, that I must go to bed. From these words I could conclude that I was triumphing. Then, when I insisted, she said yes. Everything comes to pass as I wish. I was even very astonished at this victory — the enemy had seemed so strong. And immediately the desire weakened. We embraced and I fell asleep, all joyful.
It is astonishing how fortune favours me! God wants to test me — whether, in giving me everything, I would want yet more, and if I were never satisfied, then He will punish me as in the fable of The Golden Fish. But I shall take good care not to deserve that punishment; I shall be content when I have what I ask for every day in my prayers. How happy I am! Everything succeeds for me — how can I not hope that the rest will come?
Francine has taken my dress to alter. At the Exposition (grey linen dress, good). It is pouring rain; I adore the rain but I do not like overcast skies. At four o'clock, home. Paul came back and we had no idea what had become of him. The weather is superb, a little sunshine, the rain has stopped — a delicious day. Dinner at the hotel (grey woolen dress, bad) — this grey is disfiguring.
After dinner we went to Spitzer's to try on the dresses for Dina and my aunt. They have pretty models from Laferriere, very chic. But I am set on Paris.
Paul has adopted an insufferable manner of an old grumbler — of a madman, an invalid, or an idiot. I hope he will not keep it up for long; it would be unbearable. In the evening we took a short carriage ride; the air is delicious.