Wednesday, 1 October 1873

One truly does not know what to wear; I have no jacket, and my cotton dress is too little towards six o’clock. The affair with Palajka continues (Walitsky had given her two slaps); she escaped the other evening and returned only with a soldier to collect a dress. It has been discovered that much is missing -- from Maman, two hundred francs; from my aunt, three hundred-franc pieces; from me, three hundred-franc pieces, a Venetian mosaic set, and earrings with turquoises. They dared not accuse her before, when so many things were disappearing, but now it is clear. Joséphine is a good woman, calm, exact, and obedient.
Maman and my aunt at the donkey stables, and I with Papa, Dina, and Bete. The little donkey stable belongs to Gioia, for several times I see her come out of it, through the respectable door -- there is a dirty one to the left. She was in a blue-striped cotton dress and a straw or muslin hat with blue at the back. She came out of the stable, watched our carriage drive away for a long time, and went back in. She has a proud and fierce air, but a majestic fierceness that gives her the appearance of a queen. It is not wicked; it is something I cannot explain.
I should so love to enter her house -- fool that I am, I could very well do so in her absence, by giving a louis or two to the concierge. I could get in by passing myself off as a lady’s maid, for two weeks. I shall do it in time.
I have already imagined the time when I shall be a lady’s maid, though without showing it. I shall powder my hair to make it ash-coloured. I would not want to disguise myself for her, but for those who come to visit her. This idea haunts me; I want it so much. But Maman will never, never, never consent.
But when I am grown up I shall absolutely, absolutely do it.
We walked from the end of the promenade to the London House, where I ate some fruit and brought home preserved suckling pig, asparagus, and a cucumber.
Mme Anitchkoff sent over excellent salted cucumbers. I dined as I have not in a long time. A broth with little puff-pastry pies, suckling pig, salted cucumbers. And charming little chickens with salted cucumbers, and grapes.
We play Kings; I was not once king. I am dreamy this evening.
I believe Boreel is married; his mother is in Nice and is always with a young woman -- blonde, pretty, elegant, but a little old for Boreel.