Tuesday, 26 May 1874

Ah, how tired I am! I have just written a long letter to Hélène, a reply. Then an even longer letter to my aunt. My hand aches from it. I did not write my diary yesterday; I went to bed between Maman and Dina, and without knowing it I fell asleep. On waking, I only had the courage to go to my own room.
In the morning I was very animated; there were races at Auteuil, important races -- twenty-nine English horses. Then there were respectable names, and the Duke of Hamilton was entering horses: Sir John, Fantome, Mobile II. The weather was magnificent. I was stamping with joy thinking of these races. At last -- something I like! Maman dressed up; we take the deacon and Jaxa; I put on my straw hat. I am very gay; we set off.
But at the beginning of the Bois -- oh, terror! -- great drops fall from the wrathful sky.
All these fine carriages close up and make all the divine outfits vanish -- lips red as cactus flowers, hair as golden as wheat sheaves, eyes as burning as coals. Every heart tightens; they press close to one another, hitch up their skirts, crumple their coiffures. And all those knights of the pince-nez! Complete rout.
We stay in the carriage and see nothing; it pours.
The President and the Duchesse de Magenta are in their stands; a great many fashionable people. But it rains. The racecourse at Auteuil is splendid. Many horses. For the thirty-thousand-franc prize the sky took pity on us and the rain stopped for five minutes. Twenty-one horses; they had to go around three times, twenty-one obstacles, four rivers.
In the first round several fell; in the second the same, and towards the end only four finished. Miss Hungerford was in front by a length and a half, but all of a sudden Dominus makes a superhuman, sublime effort -- I saw the horse and the jockey choking, out of breath, raging -- overtaking Miss Hungerford by a length. But in this sublime surge the jockey made his horse jump Dominus leaped the last river, which he was no longer supposed to jump. And because of this heroism he was counted second, having overtaken Hungerford but, alas, too late.
Then the rain starts again. During this race my heart was pounding; I was enjoying myself; I was living.
How have I not yet seen Fedus? He did not take part in the last shooting competition. But Rothschild does not fail to appear. We see him every day; I like him. Meyer, that old Fritz, lodges with us at the Scribe. My gold pen no longer writes at all. It is still better than the one I had just taken up.
On the way back the rain stopped, and the return was not disheartening.
Many closed landaus, but also many open carriages.
And Mme Rosalie Léon in that coupe I admired yesterday. The monkey, in a carriage like that! I saw Berthe Boyd with her sisters. She is plump but pretty, with a satisfied, happy air. She did not recognise me, or did not want to recognise me. The latter is more likely, and harder. Bah! I come home in an atrocious mood.
I suffer from my malady. One knows this malady: carriages, dresses, society, vanity, vanity, vanity! That is my malady. At heart I am good and loving. In spite of my vanity I shall never be a bad woman; I shall be honest and pure.
Jaxa dines with us; after all, he does no harm to anyone. I bet almost every time on the Duke of Hamilton’s horses -- bitter mockery.
We drive^[In English in the original.] in the evening; I am dreamy.
Today the day begins with dressmakers. A turn in the Bois. We looked over a town house on the avenue de l’Imperatrice -- very pretty, small, but suitable, a hundred and sixty thousand francs. I am too tired this evening to give my feelings on the subject, all the more since I gave them to my aunt in my letter.
Maman is ill; we dined by ourselves. While I was writing my letters I heard someone singing, and very well; that voice made me think of my own...
There were a great many people in the Bois, no one I know. Ah! yes -- Lord Falkner. I blushed when I saw him.
When shall I live as I like?