Wednesday, 14 January 1874

I am lazy; I do not rise until eight o'clock -- I must change this, otherwise I am becoming common. Nothing spoiled today; everything was fine and calm.
At half past ten we make our way to the station, namely myself, Maman, my aunt, Dina, Machenka, Stiopa, Walitsky, and Paul. The sun burns (blue dress, brown hat, good). We buy our tickets at the station, at Chauvain's. There is not a single lady, but the marksmen are assembling: Saint-Clair, Lewin, Salting, the good Merck -- he looks the most gentlemanly among all this riffraff; only his teeth... it would not be a bad idea to open the mouths of all one's acquaintances and examine the teeth, since one does it with horses, taking them by the nose with one hand and by the chin with the other. M. de Galve, though elderly, is still better than all these little pigs; he has the air of a nobleman and a great lord. Trehern is fine too, but past his prime; as for the others, they are wigged hairdressers in disguise. Lambertye also arrives in his long cloak-dressing-gown. To avoid his serpent eyes I take my place in the compartment. Everyone alights at Monaco; we take a carriage and I go straight to the hotel for luncheon. All the marksmen also gather there for luncheon, but since in our family nothing can be done properly, everyone separates and we are left only three at the restaurant: myself, Dina, and Machenka.
I would have given anything to be with that God-blessed bataclan. I understand life only among men; skirts make me sick. It seemed to me that the monkey spoke of me to a man beside him, for he was talking to him and looking at me. For some days now this monkey has seemed detestable to me. Paul comes and we go out; poor Dina was afraid to pass in front of that table of marksmen one had to walk past, but I am the bravest, especially where there is nothing to be brave about, and I pass in front. Lambertye's head without a hat is bald and looks like a nail.
Dina stays with Maman and we are only three: myself, Machenka, and Paul -- and so much the better; it would be dreadful, three skirts and one pathetic pair of trousers. I have never attended the beginning of the Shoot; today is the first time. I place myself between the columns, for the sun is blazing. But I look at the sky and all at once I see something like a horse in the air; only after a few minutes can I tell it was a balloon in the shape of a cow. Then we change places and put ourselves in the front row, but with the one o'clock train the Shoot fills up; Lady Falkner, who has become truly pretty, comes, then the Galves in grey; they take their places between the columns I had just left.
The first prize was won by M. Pooool -- I do not know his name, but he prolongs his pull so much that I call him thus. The second by Baron de Saint-Clair, the third was Prince de Chimay, the fourth M. Joe Norris, one of the best marksmen, who missed twice, which means disqualification. When I was still between the columns, Soria greets me and comes to talk; then he looks at the programme I was holding and comes so close he was touching me. I did not know what to do; I held out the programme to him. This is a man who thinks himself a god; everyone must adore him and his mere touch makes one happy. With all that, he is a wine merchant and a singer, and not in the least handsome; I even prefer... even Lambertye.
But I am glad the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton are not here; I would die of horror.
The Shoot was quite brilliant; Mme Korsikoff, that fat coachman, came to grimace and cry in her ugly French. Poor pigeon, poor pigeon!
But it's the dog I admire, it's the dog who is admirable, poor pigeon. What a horror! Oh, I wanted to ask her why she comes if the sufferings of the Poor pigeon! cause her such pain? Insensitive sensitivities revolt me.
We have another hour in the salons; Maman introduced me to Lewin; he says last year he would have given me sixteen! What a Miserere! But to speak to him I was obliged to raise my eyes as if in prayer, so tall is he. I also made the acquaintance of Mme Dachkevitch, a likeable woman.
We go down and a few steps from the casino Count Lambertye climbs up, ridiculous as -- as himself. Dina says:
-- A pleasant encounter.
-- Most pleasant.
However, he did not dare look at me too much; I was with Maman.
I am pleased with today; I wish I could be grown up sooner, to have a bataclan of my own. Here is how I would live: live in Paris or London according to circumstances, and come to Nice for a month to frolic with a grand, select bataclan.
To organize suppers on all fours and all sorts of admirable follies. But, but... the husband. For all my fancies cannot be realized; I shall not find a husband who will be my lover. He will perhaps be a boor, a block head, a stubborn man who will insist on doing as he pleases and not let me follow my fancies.
Explanation:
It is only today that I understood the full nuisance of a husband. A husband! A brake on all pleasures -- a husband, what is classically called a husband! Ai! Ai! Ai! I had not thought of it. For I shall not find a husband to match the woman I shall be. All these gentlemen amuse themselves and raise the devil, and only marry when they are weary, worn out, and jaded! They marry to rest, the wretches; they want domestic life (Explanation): they want their will obeyed -- the dogs! the hippopotamuses! the pigs!
What they admire in another woman they blame in their wife; what is perfectly simple in another is an extravagance for the wife. And it is those who have committed the most follies who are the most severe! A jewel of a hundred thousand francs for an actress is an easy and ordinary thing, and five thousand francs for a wife is an extravagance. They would crawl on all fours from the Arc de Triomphe to the Tuileries for a mistress, and they will say it is difficult and tiresome to go out with their wife in a carriage... in a landau!
The brigands...
But... but... these are very old, very well-known truths I am stating! And I -- oh! poor beast! I believed I was saying something new, something powerful.
Miserere, triple Miserere!

Notes

In English in the original.