Thursday, 22 January 1874

At last this day has come! The day I had so longed for, which seemed as if it would never come. This time we go -- myself, Maman, Dina, and Paul; as soon as we arrive I see the Howards’ carriage; I go to them. M. de La Boissière escorts me; having talked ten minutes with them, I noticed poor La Boissière was waiting for me; I hasten to send him away with thanks.
They are eating openly; M. Allen with his son, and Tebbitt, are beside them, also in a carriage. We formed a rather gay circle; I climb up with Aggie onto the box at Tebbitt’s, from where I watch the first race. I bet Tebbitt two francs and I win. After that I go with Maman leaning on my arm, in her beautiful grey dress, matching hat, magnificent effect (blue dress, grey boots, good), and Paul, to walk before the stands. All the fine society of the other day is there, plus Princess Souvoroff the Countess and Mlle de Galve: brown velvet skirt, over it a sort of enormous jet apron, superb outfit -- she is more beautiful than I thought, magnificently superb. Her daughter, in pearl-grey and pink -- both by Worth, enormous trains. Comtesse de Galve in pearl grey, like a little girl; Mlle de Galve, dark red faille skirt, two pleated flounces, a woollen overcoat in the same shade -- pretty, graceful, and attractive and appealing as always. But both the countess and she herself look rather miserable beside the superb bearing of Princess Souvoroff and her daughter; this girl adores hunting, horses, and dogs -- she is right. Centifolia, divine, between two men, then with Rosalie. A black dress with a touch of blue, in this fabric which has just appeared and I cannot name, and all-black velvet. She has once again a superb carriage, superb horses, liveries, and everything.
We make several turns, looking and looked at. My steel heels caused a sensation. Before the last race we return to the Howards’ carriage to collect Dina (black dress). M. Howard goes with Maman, I with Dina. Maman and Dina have very long trains, in full dress in short; while I had the short dress, the one I always wear; I was very much noticed. I do not know why. (My God! I would not want anyone to take this “I do not know why” for coquetry!) It is because I truly am looked at -- so it is not my beauty they are looking at! (Besides, I have no beauty!) I detest Lambertye! It seems to me he is mocking me! It is dreadful when one thinks one is being mocked!
The races were very brilliant. Maman enjoyed herself. We were seated, M. Howard with us, near the barrier; it was ravishing to see all these horses jump. Since Porchefontaine I have not seen them run so close. It is staggering.
But in the midst of these pleasures I was tormented by the thought that this is the last day and that it is over. I awaited today impatiently, and I am rewarded. And I was better off, because at least we had the Howards.
Crossing the rope near the carriages, Lambertye blocked the way, this one seemed against me with head bowed; he stepped aside, I do not know how. He looked embarrassed before my mother, as if we were old acquaintances. Lucarini greets me and speaks to me, also near the rope. Tebbitt is a very pleasant fellow. Gioia was behind us on the way back; we approached her. When Maman said she can love anyone -- today Audiffret, tomorrow her servant -- I wanted to say she acts as a true Christian, but Maman would have fainted. I say enough without that.
On the Promenade, a mad crowd.
I wonder how Wittgenstein can love his ugly creature?!! I get out of the carriage with Paul while they fetch and bring Papa home. After that, another turn by carriage.
Maman saw only too well how much Lambertye looked at me; she says not a word about it, and that is a great proof. I do not like the way he looks when he is not alone -- he seems to mock. Am I mad!!! He, dare to mock me!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am a fool to inflict such insults upon myself!
My mother does not even suppose it; she believes everyone must admire and adore her darling daughter.
So a happy day has gone by! I have only to cross the night to begin another almost like it.
Thank you, my God!
Why is it that whenever I am happy I want to ask forgiveness for my sins?
I saw Baron Finot, a fat, surly, dusty peasant -- and to think that for two years I blushed at his name!

Notes

In Italian in the original: impediva il cammino, questi parea che contro me con la testa bassa (after Dante, Inferno I). ↩
In Italian in the original: approsiamo (Marie’s form; standard ci avviciniamo). ↩
Written in Russian in the manuscript; French translation by the editor. ↩