Monday, 1 June 1874

I am wearing a simple and pretty unbleached linen dress, from Caroline. It is very hot -- unbearably hot, were it not in Paris.
Where to begin: the day is interesting. I saw Berthe -- Berthe! We had our carriages stopped; we got down; we embraced. My heart was beating, my voice trembled. I affected an air of indifference that annoyed me. I climbed into the coupe with her; she was going to run an errand at the Bon Marche. I went with her and Maman followed. With us was the governess, to whom I paid no attention; besides, I had no secrets to tell -- I shall never have any with anyone, especially never with Berthe. She is cunning and not frank.
I spoke so much with her that I do not know where to begin... let us try to make a dialogue. But my heart is beating and I am moved; I know I shall not say what I want to -- I have forgotten. Berthe:
-- It seems we detested each other at Baden.
-- No, I never detested you; there were silly little childish things, but I always remember them with enormous pleasure. Was it not amusing?
-- Yes. Did you come to Baden afterwards?
-- No, we spent the summer in Nice; it was very hot. We bought a villa there and shall spend winters there -- it is tiresome for me because I do not like Nice.
-- I believe you did not like Paris; you liked Rome.
-- No, I detest Paris; I do not like Rome. We are going to England and I am delighted -- it is the country I love best.
-- I have never been to England but I believe I should love it very much.
-- There are all the pleasures that are my delight.
-- Were you at the races on Monday?
-- Yes, in all that rain. And you?
-- We too.
-- I am going to ride Foliero, belonging to M. Baltazzi. We do not have our horses here and I ride this gentleman's horses. Maman is not afraid to leave me with him; he rides very well.
I wanted to come quickly to the point; we asked each other every imaginable question. I wanted to say to her, in the form of a question, Hamilton is married? -- but I felt I would blush; my heart was beating; I feared Berthe might hear these importunate beats. At last I make up my mind; I blush, then I grow pale, [Crossed out: it is as if I were] [the next word is covered by an ink stain].
-- You know, the Duke of Hamilton is married?
-- Yes, I know. (She did not turn at all and left me free; she feared that I might turn, that I would see her face. I had the same anxiety; thus we did not look at each other. We both blushed; our voices were moved and affected indifference. We felt the same thing -- the two of us were but a single person at that moment. She could have struck me down by turning and looking me in the face; fortunately she did nothing of the sort -- she was afraid for herself. This instant past, she resumed:) [Crossed out: Did you see]
-- The Duke is at present in Baden; my father saw him -- he has become like a stick.
-- Really? I should be curious to see him as a stick; it seems impossible to me.
-- Yes, my father saw him; he has come back from Egypt.
-- Then it is Egypt that has...
-- No, he goes every winter to Egypt.
-- It would be curious to see all the same. Have you seen his wife -- is she pretty? Tall, short, dark, fair?
-- She is ugly (at this word my heart leapt with joy), dark, tall.
-- Ah!
-- She has German shoulders (she shows shoulders like Gioia's), a very pretty figure, shoulders like this (she demonstrated as with Gioia). She is dark. Her mother is a very beautiful person, with golden hair, tall. You saw her in Baden -- the Duchess of Manchester?
-- No, I did not see her; but the daughter is dark -- she is ugly, you say?
-- She is not ugly, she is not pretty; people find her distinguished. There are those who do not even find her distinguished; she has a pretty figure.
If she is not pretty, so much the better for the Duke... for the Duke... himself (with hesitation) is not...
-- People find her distinguished.
-- Yes, but...
(She is not pretty! How extraordinary; I believed his wife must be beautiful.)
-- His brother too is married; he married Mme Paskevitch and Hamilton no longer wishes to see him, to speak to him.
-- Why? How?
-- Because he has had enough; he will no longer pay his debts.
-- Was he paying Carlo's debts?
-- Yes, every other day.
-- I understand; it is disagreeable. If he is not married to Mme Paskevitch, he is as good as married.
(I understood this remark only in writing it down.)
-- But she is married.
-- That makes no difference. (I have forgotten what was said after that; I am only happy to find myself with someone who speaks a language I understand, who loves what I love, who thinks as I think, who seeks what I seek, who takes interest in what interests me, who will perhaps tell me nothing, as I would doubtless tell her nothing at all. Who, finally, if I did not have so high an opinion of myself, would be myself in person.
I am pleased to see that I am taller than her; she says she is fifteen -- it is not true, she is at least seventeen. Short, plump, no grace, no style. I like her well despite all that.
I believe that if one day we become friends we shall be so always, for until today there has been no explosion. I speak to her without constraint, she too; I no longer fear her -- she is me. [Crossed out: When] She blushes at the things that make me blush, so we need only not look at each other. In short -- she suits me!
-- Your father saw the Duke in Baden?
-- Yes, he will come to Paris for the Grand Prix (!!!)
-- Yes. You know, Berthe, etc. (I told her the story of Kolokolzoff who had mistaken Paskevitch for Bashkirtseff.)
Berthe did more than answer questions; she did as I do when I speak of the Duke -- she said all at once everything she could say, with a little air of indifference.
Poor Berthe! You have dreamed as I have. One must wake up... Yes! But why was it only a dream for me, when it is reality for German shoulders?!!!
We talked some more, but here we are arrived. The governess goes into the shop while I approach Maman's carriage with Berthe. Among other things, Maman says suddenly:
-- Hamilton is married?
-- Yes.
-- Is his wife pretty?
-- No, she is ugly; she has a pretty figure. (It is Berthe who speaks.)
-- Dark or fair?
-- Dark. She has German shoulders -- square.
Myself: -- But I believe that German shoulders are generally not admired; sloping shoulders are what is admired.
(She was smiling.)
I blushed when Maman asked the first question; I pinched my ear with all my might and made a great effort. My blush did not last long.
-- Is she pretty? continued Maman.
-- No.
-- But what forced him then to...
-- I know nothing about it; he did not want to -- it was the mothers who arranged it.
-- Myself: Which mothers?
-- The Duchess of Hamilton and of Manchester. [Crossed out: It is said that]
-- Is she rich?
-- No; you know, girls are never rich in England.
-- Then why did he marry her?
-- It is said that he did not want to, but that things were arranged thus: One evening he was... drunk (small murmur of approval from all), and the Duchess of Manchester came and said to him:
-- Will you do something for me...
-- Certainly, Madame, I shall do whatever you wish.
-- Then marry my daughter...
He did not understand; he knew nothing, and people came to congratulate him. That is how it happened.
I think Berthe invented this story. If it is true, I pity and love more than ever the good, the dear, the adorable Duke. For this marriage alone (if it is true) one could adore him. He, caught in a trap like that -- it pleases me, it overwhelms my mind, it vexes me.
This encounter with Berthe is an event. I am troubled for the rest of the day. At Smith's, I was thinking of her; then we dined -- I had no appetite and still have none. I hurried everyone along, and when they rose from the table I wanted to fly to the hotel to write, fearing I would forget half of what had happened.
Near the carriage, talking with Maman, Berthe related that the Duke gives money to his mother, his sister, to Carlo. That he has a very fine fortune -- five million florins a year, but that divided thus it was no longer enormous. [Crossed out: That he] At this figure I blushed and a demon bit my heart. I had never thought of five million florins in annual income; I could never have invented such a fortune. I was stupefied, astounded, and only half believe it. The most I ever credited his income at was seven hundred thousand francs; I never even thought as far as a million. How could cupidity not be awakened -- and even created (in my case there was nothing to create) -- by five million florins a year!
Berthe also says that the Duke of Hamilton is one of the poorest dukes in England. This ill does me good. He will come for the Grand Prix and we would leave?!!! Oh no! No, I shall do everything I can to stay; I shall pray to God.
What is the use of staying? To torture myself, to vex myself, to make bad blood?
Oh, just thinking of it... just writing what I am writing... [Crossed out: takes from me] I cannot breathe (I am scarcely breathing), I shiver; I was hot, now I am cold; I have a chill down my spine. To see him seems impossible to me. Enough -- I would say foolish things. Only it seems to me -- sometimes it seems to me that I could never be his wife, that I was as far from him as the earth from the sun; other times I am certain that nothing was more possible, more probable, more natural, more necessary.
Oh! Enough, enough -- I shall see him! In the meantime I am going to [Crossed out: sleep] read before sleeping. It is late; I am too overwrought to read; I think I shall go to sleep. Fortunately I always sleep.
I am going to see him then!!!!! Oh Lord, with what agitation I await that day. I shall try to be with Berthe that day; I shall bring her with us to be with her. I shall humble myself, but perhaps I shall see him up close, perhaps... Oh my God! Perhaps I shall speak to him!
That would be too much! I say no more -- I am raving...
Buckingham was indeed madly in love with Anne of Austria having seen her only four times, and having spoken to her only once or twice!
What I want for the moment is to see him -- only to see him; and later I hope to speak to him.

Notes

In English in the original.
Berthe uses the anglicized French word marriez [marry].
In Russian in the original.