Tuesday, 28 April 1874

I get out of Maman's bed. Mme Teplakoff has come; they sent for the Anitchkoffs, and I hear them all laughing at the expense of Mlle Kolokolzoff, Tichkevitch, and the Zero. When I went out with my aunt we walked to the Promenade and to 55. When we stood before the villa, a dreadful spectacle struck our astonished eyes. The masons are at work and the terrace is crumbling. My aunt is utterly distraught, and a thousand doubts agitate her stricken spirit -- now it seems to her that the heavenly trees are the rampart of the citadel and its defenders against the baneful gaze of passers-by, now she dreads the dryads who make of these trees their palace. As a she-wolf pressed from all sides by hunters, feeling the blade plunge into her throat, rolls her blood-filled eyes and seeks to save her young, so my aunt, at the sight of these lugubrious trees, feels her heart swell with sorrow; she casts frightened glances about her, and her voice is choked in her throat.
But on the other hand, as a lion of the fields of Libya, bounding with rage and courage, hurls himself with noble ardour upon a half-sheep separated from its flock -- the shepherd, to the sound of his reed-pipes, gives himself up to the dance (innocent pleasure of the countryside) and forgets to count his flock, not dreading -- oh misfortune! -- the lions and the ferocious panthers.
This lion is me. It is no doubt rather moving when something is destroyed, especially trees. On me it produced a disagreeable impression that I can scarcely overcome by reassuring myself it is only for the moment. I have a little white dog like the late Roulette. It belonged to Lewita; I told Paul I wanted it, and this Jew did not dare refuse, telling Paul that it is not "to your sister that I give this dog, but to her beauty." Paul assures us with a mysterious and truthful air that this fellow would have intentions -- fie! I name this dog M. Piccon. This Piccon delivered a speech in some assembly or other, declaring that Nice must separate from France, etc., etc. They made him leave and forced him to resign. In Paris, in Lyon, in Marseille, and in Nice they speak of nothing else. That is why ex-Monte-Carlo, ex-Lewita is called Piccon -- a short and pleasant name for a dog.
At 55 I shall have two large Saint Bernards or Newfoundlands, Athos and d'Artagnan; a poodle, Fouquet; a bulldog, Colbert; a greyhound, La Valliere; and a street dog, Malicorne; and a pretty dog that I shall not buy straight away, but only when I find a pretty one -- Madame.
There is what my future court shall be.