Sunday, 25 January 1874

It was ten minutes to eleven when I rise; though rather late we went to church all the same, and from there to Mme Teplakoff's, who is still ill. We called at Mortier's and then a little on the Promenade; there is no sun but the air is mild. I was telling Maman (brown dress, good) what was written in a newspaper about Mlle Choupinski, when I felt Lambertye's eyes settle on me with that half-smile; I became confused, I could not find the words to say -- Well, you see, I've blushed now; what absurdity, I said, laughing. Everyone laughed. It is really stupid to blush for that man.
At one o'clock we go to order the ball gown for Dina from Gonin, then to the Comtesse de Mouzay's; the poor woman has been bedridden for a fortnight. A telegram was received from Dominica Pavlovna; she begs the consul to tell Georges that his son is dying. Nothing has been said to either Dina or Georges. In the Russian newspaper one read that the pupil of the military school Etienne Babanine, aged fifteen, inflicted three wounds upon himself with a dagger, in his mother's house. How dreadful! Dina knows nothing. I get out of the carriage with Maman while they go to fetch Papa.
We meet Abrial, who, as a friend, warns us that we have an enemy in the person of Princess Galitzine, that she will never forgive the kindnesses heaped upon her, and that the sooner she leaves the better. I am entirely of his opinion. I get into the carriage; I get out again to walk with the Howards, Tebbitt, Allen, and Paul; we pass through the public garden, through the midst of the "vile multitude." It was amusing; then I get into the carriage again. The Mlles Galve and Choupinski ride on horseback -- the latter has a ravishing horse, charmingly spirited. Tomorrow we ride.
In the evening I wash my hair, which dries while I write.