Friday, 21 November 1873

in the marginnote de Marie sur la page de titre du Livre 13
The eve of his marriage ends this wretched book! After his marriage a new era begins for me.
Yesterday, having finished writing, I go to Maman to find out for certain whether they have bought that villa, but they reassure me -- fortunately Maman has bought nothing, to my great relief. We stay together until midnight, Georges, Walitsky, Dina, my aunt, and I, talking and I speak again of our life.
At two o’clock already diadia, as we call the Comte de Toulouse-Lautrec -- diadia, then, at two o’clock comes, and they call me; they are ready to get into the carriage. I run quickly (brown dress, black hat, not bad). We -- my aunt, Papa, diadia, and I -- go to look at hotels for diadia. He is as difficult as I am about apartments. At three they all go to Monaco -- diadia, Maman, my aunt, Walitsky, and little Merano. I go down to the station for a moment; Maman gives me the key to the wardrobe and twenty francs.
We go out with Bete and Hitchcock; Dina has gone with Solominka on foot. (At luncheon the Worth dresses were brought -- adorable, divine!) I think of ordering a dress for my own person. In truth I have nothing to wear for a simple dinner like yesterday’s or for the theatre. I have these two promenade dresses and the white dress from last year, and that is all. And they dare say I have a great many dresses! Truth, where art thou?!
I am fourteen, and here are the conclusions I have reached. -- Everyone is kind so long as one is a friend without being intimate -- friendship as I understand it does not exist. -- Nor does truth. -- Money is everything. -- To live is to love, to love is to live.
Let us not ramble, my girl! You go out and then... and then I go to the port to fetch my saddle qui is come since yesterday. I go to the customs office; men send me through several rooms; at last I see my darling saddle, I take it with me, they put it with the crate on the seat. We take a turn at the promenade and I come home at four, but I do not begin the piano until half past four -- I wasted half an hour admiring my saddle.
in the margin
S. means Solominka, or Mme Markevitch
S. and Terme come, stay five minutes, and leave. For dinner Maman and diadia come back. Maman won seven hundred francs. They missed the train so they took a carriage and raced like madmen to Monaco, where the train had just pulled in. They nearly overturned the carriage that was carrying them at breakneck speed. I am beginning to get used to diadia.
I have so to speak forgotten him who has made me waste so much paper. But I love too much to forget that creature. He was my first and caused me so much pain (to the tune of Fortunio).
They bring me two cups of tea which I drink in my room.
Walitsky composed a memoir purportedly by Paul, and Paul copied it into his notebook which he left deliberately at Solominka’s. In this memoir he tells himself how he is in love with her, that Petit is nothing any longer, etc. Well, that goose Solominka took it seriously and looks at Paul with tender indulgence. How stupid can one be!
(Filles de marbre). I know not what has got into me. Nor why, I know not, so many magnificent dreams pursue me night and morning. I want to think of something else. And he comes and posts himself there (Fortunio) But not at all.
The moment my eyelids close
I see him everywhere.
I think it is madness, for otherwise.
I think it will pass, for otherwise my whole existence will be nothing but one long torment.

Notes

In English in the original. ↩
In Latin in the original: propria persona. ↩
In English in the original. ↩
Filles de marbre in the original: Les Filles de marbre (“The Marble Maidens”), the 1853 play by Théodore Barrière and Lambert Thiboust. What Marie takes from it here is not clear. ↩
Fortunio: probably La Chanson de Fortunio, Offenbach’s one-act operetta (1861), which Marie names in this entry (“to the tune of Fortunio”); the crossed-out line may echo it. ↩