Saturday, 11 July 1874

It would be bliss to have a Saint Bernard; I name him Notlimah. He can -- Basilevitch calls to us from her window that she will come to go to the concert together. As she was not coming, I went to her, and was much vexed, having found Gericke at her place... well. I go with them; Maman says she is coming directly. Basilevitch goes to leave her visiting card and her husband's at the Countess Merjeeska's. This lady is at home, and I am obliged to wait for Basilevitch in the company of Gericke. We stood beneath a window in the Rue de l'Hospice, saying very calmly the most ordinary things, when the door of the room opens and I see through the window de Neufarge settling in to read. My first impulse was to leave the window in haste as if I were doing something wrong; then I said: "It is a gentleman I did not wish to greet; let us take a turn in this avenue." Gericke is a child of good family; he talks nonsense in company, but alone with me he was perfect. That pleased me. But on leaving Basilevitch's he did a dreadful thing: crossing the square, he tapped with his cane on Basilevitch's wire bustle as though it were a wall or a chair. I reported this with great uproar at home. Basilevitch's visit is over; we sit down at the concert, where we are joined first by the marquise and then by Maman. We speak of next Tuesday's picnic. The little Pole plays cold in response to my impertinences.
Basilevitch was at the station with Gericke and her husband to meet the Count de Tanlay, who holds some position with Mac-Mahon. He has arrived, this count, announced for three days now -- and Basilevitch is radiant.
Before the ball a very disagreeable scene takes place [Crossed out: scoundrelly]. My brother drove me to distraction by refusing to give me a book; I tried to punish him with a chair; Maman took fright and had an attack of nerves. Lezaak was sent for, but within an hour, as if by enchantment, she was at the ball in her grey Worth gown. I was in the white Worth, hair down my back, good. The room is full, but we and Basilevitch are the only ones without hats. Basilevitch is with her little Count de Tanlay, who looks like every opera tenor. [Interlined: who is comme il faut in person. I like him; his manners are even, calm, and good.] He was introduced to us at once. A gentleman approaches me and asks for a dance.
-- I do not know you, Monsieur..., I said softly and with hesitation.
-- I am Monsieur van Halsen (or something similar).
-- I am too tired, Monsieur, I said with a candid smile.
Has anyone ever seen such audacity!
I take Maman's arm and we seat ourselves on a sofa to the left. Behind us is the famous handsome young man. I struck up conversation with Mme Davignon so that he might hear me. De Tanlay dances well, quickly especially; everyone watched when we danced. I danced with a great many people, with all those we know, except Macainne, who did not deign to invite me -- the bear. With the three Americans: Winslow, who looks like the porter at Acqua Viva; Clark, who is a pleasant fellow; and Ladd -- a horror, cross-eyed, very shy. Seeing him thus, I overwhelmed him. Indeed, he is ugly, he is timid -- let us shock him.
[Crossed out: But here] The man who dared invite me was introduced to us. He is a frightful Dutchman. And after the handsome young man, the immense young man. I love his immensity. But he has ugly eyes, common manners, and no style at all. He does not know what to do with his hands.
Maman introduces him to me; I was expecting to hear a name like Esterhazy, and I hear: "Monsieur Paparigopoulos." But this is outrageous -- a Papa, rigo, poulos -- he is Greek!
He is not handsome; he has small, startled eyes, and moreover is ill at ease. No, you are no longer Warbler; no, no, no, bear that name no more. He never pleased me, but since that name, he becomes a matter of indifference.
It is a pity; I hoped he would be somebody. We were admirably surrounded. I was satisfied. God -- truly it is not fitting to mix God into this -- but I must, since among other things I pray to God that we may be surrounded and live as I love. Here we live as I love. What have I done to deserve it? It seemed to me, on the contrary, that I was behaving badly and deserved nothing.
Gericke is the nicest here. He stayed near me throughout an entire lancers quadrille; he does not know how to talk. He says Douchenka so sweetly that I am in love with the word. Speaking to me, he calls me Douchenka, and I call him Imbecile. I can take this tone with him because he is a gentleman, comme il faut, and well-bred. He laughs, he jokes; so do I. But never could a word or a gesture wound me. [Interlined: Not always -- for proof, see Tuesday.] I am with him free and calm; he is a good child, with ideas about propriety, about the convenances, most exalted.
Where on earth did I find such conclusions?
He makes me laugh to see my dimple, and he put out his finger to point to it; I rapped his hand with my fan. The little count came and placed himself behind us. I am at ease; I know that Gericke is not and will never court me, so I behave with him entirely naturally. Then comes the Dutchman, Papati etc., de Tanlay, and more, and more, and we are encircled. It is so agreeable!
I was not left in peace for a second; they claim I waltz admirably; I was compared to a Greek head on account of my golden headband; I was told so much -- and if I were more foolish, they would turn my head.
Paparigo etc. is comme il faut.
We go down to the cafe for ices and Gericke disappears with Paul. They will nurse their sorrow together. De Tanlay triumphs; Basilevitch is in white, making languishing eyes.
De Tanlay accompanies us, since he accompanies Basilevitch.
The more I see men, the more I love... the Duke of Hamilton.

Notes

In English in the original.