Saturday, 16 May 1874

I begin the day laughing and that is how I finish it. While lunching at the Grand Hotel I wanted to say something, but laughter overwhelmed me and held me for five minutes -- and all for a trifle: I wanted to tell Dina to send the gentleman lunching next to us a lump of sugar, to amuse him, for he was watching us.
From one o'clock to four we stroll. What a fine trade! Dina is an angel of patience and modesty, but she is unbearable with her love of shops. When I think where we have been -- at the Louvre, the Bon Marche, the Petit Saint-Thomas, the Grand Saint-Paul, the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Pink Nose, the Turned Ankle!!!
My God, my head is spinning. At four o'clock we took a cab, and the same journeys begin again. But then on the boulevard I see a familiar face reclining in a cab exactly as in Nice -- Kinsky. I let out an exclamation of surprise and turned away to hide that I was laughing. We were in a carriage, and I believe he saw nothing. Maman scolded me. Some time later on the same boulevard I see the Prince de Wittgenstein, at the moment Maman says to me:
-- Well, there is Wittgenstein, I believe.
-- Where? I said sharply, feigning surprise. I had indeed seen him, perched on a carriage like a scaffold and driving.
Ah, there. I am so happy when I see people I have seen in another place.
It is true -- I said the same thing on seeing Kinsky. And in the evening, a third encounter: Mme Zveguintzoff. I do not speak of Think-of-Pitou, who recognised us and passed us twice. I wonder -- does he perform at the Varietes?

^[In English in the original.]
I asked Maman the interpretation of the dream about Wittgenstein; it means that I am growing taller, or that I shall conquer. It means to conquer, said Maman, and if it is Wittgenstein, that would be better than anything. This was said in the street; we wander another two hours, from eight to ten.
My brother has stayed out all night; one no longer sees him by day. Once home, we three get into the same bed and I laugh like a madwoman. I was telling Maman about a room I shall have, in porcelain. I was saying: Of course the obelisks cannot be admitted. Is it possible to choose one's guests? -- It's a pity because I like large ones and Wittgenstein is large. Nonsense, Maman, nonsense. No doubt nonsense -- that is why I say it -- and it is impossible: he has a mistress.
-- Oh that -- that is the least of things, and I do not care.
-- That is not the impossibility, I said to myself, laughing aloud.
I told Maman he was old, forty-five; I thought I was making him older, but Maman surprised me:
-- No, he is not old -- about fifty.
I thought she would say less.
Is he rich? I asked, to conceal that my voice was trembling.
-- Yes, he has perhaps a million francs in income. Ah, rascal -- why do I not have as much? And I said several more phrases in the style of that last one.
[In the margin: (I saw Lady Falkner)]
I am always afraid they will begin teasing me about this man, though there is no reason for it; but one is often afraid of trifles. And because of this fear I look as if I have something to hide, when I have nothing, I assure you. I wonder why I find myself uneasy when they speak of this man, why I fear they will tease me? These are pure trifles that prove I am still a child. Yet he is not ugly; today he even made an impression on me -- he is a true obelisk.
This morning I was not asleep and not yet awake -- let us see... a word to express this state... well! I was at the Pas-de-Calais. I was thinking of the Duke, and he inspired in me such terror that my heart beat. He seemed to me so terribly cruel (his face expressed sheer cruelty) that all day I could not rid myself of this feeling. It is strange.
Every time I am in bed with Maman, she looks at me and then:
-- What will become of you, my little one; to whom will you fall?
All day I laugh, and I am laughing at this very moment.