Wednesday, 20 August 1873

I wake at eleven and begin counting my money. I see that two thousand five hundred francs are nothing when one must spend them. I cannot manage on less than three thousand, and even that is quite modest. I bought stationery with my initials, had my parasol re-covered, ordered a pair of grey boots (I have five pairs), gloves, dresses; I need hats now. [Crossed out: always]
I ordered yet another dress at Worth's — coarse blue woolen, very pretty no doubt — seven hundred francs. I have not the means to pay for it; I am short three hundred and fifty francs. They will send it to me in Nice. We lost Paul; dinner at the Russian restaurant, opposite the Opera-Comique. There were nothing but men. I played the fool and said a thousand silly things; everyone who heard me was restraining themselves from laughing. Sometimes I am seized by
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fits of chattering, and then nothing can stop me. I am like a machine.
It is raining; they bring a coupe and we return. In the lift I see Paul; he had met a friend. He is hungry and went to eat downstairs.
This day's entry is short, because I wrote yesterday's entry today.
We met Loge on the boulevard. On Sunday there are races at Porchefontaine — it would be a sacrilege not to go. So I shall pray to God tonight to forgive my follies and not to punish me!