Friday, 24 July 1874

We spend a dreary three-quarters of an hour at the music, alone. There is a hint of rain, and glad of the pretext I am the first to rise. At the end of the avenue (white and silver dress, good) we are joined by the ugly count. We take a turn through the Morteau, then go home. The little young man says nothing but insipid compliments, aiming at wit and trying to affect a mocking air. He bores me.
Maman, since the baron's change of manner, runs after him, calls out to him. It is unbearable because he runs away. We went out onto the square, met the Rows, Maman called the baron, and as the Rows were coming to our rooms, Maman forced Gericke to come in.
Princess Marguerite being due to pass through the salons on her way to the theater at half past eight, we go to watch her pass. Maman goes to the theater and I stay with the Americans. I play billiards with little Row and Miss Ladd. Afterward, we sit behind the columns on the right. Madame and the Misses Robenson, Mrs. Winslow and her son, Mr. and Miss Ladd, the two Rows, Mr. West who asked to be introduced to me, a blond and insipid Englishman, rumpled, not bad-looking. Mr. Jurybarren, who somewhat resembles Fedus, but far more ape-like than Fedus. The Marquis de Puente, Mr. Clark: there is our corner. The count, serious and persistent, courts me. Gericke does not approach. Papari courts the beautiful Polish woman and converses with the little Davignon girl. But without them I am well surrounded. A few days ago I saw a swarm of young men around Miss Robenson and envied her; today it was the same around me. The Robensons and a few Spanish ladies seated higher up watched me with astonishment.
Before going out I looked at myself in the mirror, my feet divinely shod in black-barred boots, the white and silver dress made with that particular stamp that only Laferriere knows how to give, this dress is pure innocence, and with that I have a ravishing waist, and my arms perfectly fitted in those tight sleeves, fastened at the ends with simple black ribbons, black gloves, no bracelets. A small silver button-brooch to hide the clasp at the top. Hair well done, black felt hat. I am pink as I was five months ago.
I straightened myself, let my arms hang roundly, which set off my waist, placed one hand upon the other, and looked at myself.
Never have I seen an outfit more perfect in its simplicity, elegance, originality, innocence, and grace. Never have I seen a more elegant and graceful figure.
Dina, look — and I say: Have you ever seen anything more elegant and more pure, everything, from the feet to the hat?
"It is true," she says.
I have no need of her approval; I know what I know. I looked like a lily.
It is not that I think myself so beautiful; I am not foolish enough to believe such a thing, but it is the perfection of my dress that I admire. And fortunately this evening I am pink. As I expected, I did not fail to make an impression. The others are cooks beside me, all those ladies with gardens on their heads and department stores on their bodies. My feet were noticed by everyone.
[Written across:] It is certain that one could not have taken me for less than seventeen.
I danced a great deal at the beginning and it was I who started the dancing. Around eleven o'clock I stopped and sat in front beside little Davignon on an outside bench. Beside us on the sofa were the other Davignons, the Polish woman, Countess Merjeewsky, and Dina.
Gericke talks with the countess and comes to greet me. He looks distraught.
I asked to go home, but we are waiting for Princess Marguerite to come out. The musicians left and we were beginning to grow bored when someone proposed playing blind man's bluff. All our people are the only ones remaining, except Gericke and Paparinoceros, as Gericke calls him, who left early. We play for a few minutes when the door opens and the princess appears. I am sitting alone on a bench to the left while all our scoundrels cling to a sofa on the right, [Crossed out: some standing, others seated,] all standing.
At the reading room on my way out I meet Ladd and Clark. I go to bed at three o'clock.