Monday, 6 July 1874

The little Pole gave us a game of croquet. Eristoff, Body, Dina, and Paul on one side, and myself, Maman, Walitsky, and the count on the other. We were beaten because, by the end, I had killed off all my own players except the count, for whom I had reserved the same fate, and by an extraordinary chance, instead of committing a homicide I committed a suicide. Naturally, when he found himself alone against seven adversaries, he did not play Horatius.
At dinner in the Laeken restaurant I felt faint -- I did not collapse, but I left the dining room and stayed, while the others dined, in the rabbit yard.
There is a grand concert. Pink dress, black hat, black gloves. [Crossed out: The count's mother was the happiest of women.]
"The little Pole is so enchanted by the acquaintance he had the honour of making that his mother is the happiest of women to be able to cultivate this acquaintance."
During the interval we walked about -- myself, Dina, and Basilevitch. De Neufarge entered and everyone looked at him.
Near our house we were about to separate when Macainne passes. Then I, thinking that speaking Russian would make the name sound Russian too: There goes Makak -- the pig is no good for you. He heard and turned around. "Monsieur Macainne!" Maman called out to him. He came back. He is hopeless in French; when asked what he was going to do: "Bouver et tourner," he said, impaling himself on his cane. Maman says he is presentable and pleasing -- yes, presentable and pleasing, but common, blunt.
Seeing the comet, I made a wish. I do not know exactly which -- to see the Duke again as I wish, and to be rich. Maman wished me happiness, aloud.

Notes

Macainne's mangled French, attempting to say boire et se retourner (drink and turn around).
In English in the original.