Saturday, 25 July 1874

At ten o'clock I go riding with Princess Eristoff and the count. Maman, Dina, and Walitsky are in the carriage. On the way we pay a brief visit to Gambart.
I have a charming little horse; the last time I thought I rode badly, that wretched horse damaged my right leg, and it still hurts today.
I believe, timidly, that the count is in love with me, but in a sentimental way and seriously. It is a great misfortune for him; I have nothing for him.
Yesterday I was cruel; I flirted with everyone except him, and finally, offering him a flower:
"Count, would you like me to decorate you? The gentleman it was meant for has left."
"In that case I do not accept. I do not like being a substitute: all or nothing."
"I am cross, do you know? All or nothing? Very well, you shall have nothing." And I turned away, serious.
I danced a contredanse with him, opposite Paparino, which I christened the dance of conversation when asked what I was dancing. Paul followed us exclusively and chatted.
I forgot to say that my poor Bagatelle died yesterday morning, and that last evening her death served me as a subject of conversation and laughter. All the gentlemen knew about it the day before yesterday and did not dare tell me. I announced it myself, laughing.
"Oh! Monsieur Paparigopoulos, do not tell me that, you will make me cry" -- and I hid behind my enormous fan, laughing. I have not a free minute to mourn her, poor little creature. I fear that tonight I shall begin to weep for her, having nothing to do.
"Monsieur de Gericke, why did you not tell me yourself?"
"I did not want to cause you pain; I did not want you to be grieved because of me." That was part of the few words he said while remaining near me. I complained of not being surrounded. But yesterday I was so well surrounded that all the young ladies and the married women looked on with an air of saying, "Who is this child who attracts so many men?" It is easy to have wit and manners when one is not alone.
I was perfectly happy, sitting on one of the promontories, with Gericke, Papari, the count, Winslow, and Ladd standing before me. I do not speak of Walitsky, but for the others, that counts.
On every side one meets a smile, a compliment. The gentlemen themselves enjoy being several together, and the whole group is satisfied. It cannot last long; they would all grow bored.
And I dare complain! Remember, my girl, that you are only fifteen, that your coquetry is innocent, and your conversation insufficient.
Riding past, I saw Jurybarren choosing roses with a gardener. There is Mr. Jurybarren taking roses for the American ladies: how happy they must be!
At La Geronstere I had my tea.
The count is suffering; at moments, exasperated, he sends his horse into a gallop and returns more calm. "Do not excite your horse, Monsieur," I say to him in an indifferent tone after each of these dashes.
Gericke, when putting my foot in the stirrup (when we were at La Geronstere, etc., with de Tanlay), did what I described, and the Pole put my foot in the stirrup as if he were placing a box on a table.
To make himself still more detestable, he is a poet; he is melancholy!
I love poetry in an agreeable person; besides, everything is well in a person one loves, and the reverse.
I jumped a ditch for the first time. What pleasure! I am pleased with my horse; I look very well on horseback with my cap. Eristoff goes home and I ride through the Morteau with the count; he asks me to go to the left for a moment.
"Why?"
"You shall see."
"I want to know why."
"To give you a pleasure."
"I want to know what kind; perhaps this pleasure will not be a pleasure for me. Oh, very well, let us go."
It was to give me roses:
"You spoke of roses and American ladies; I thought it would please you."
"Indeed, but I shall never say anything in front of you again; I looked as though I were asking."
"I shall anticipate your wishes."
I speak to him coldly, out of charity.
It was about time he thought of giving me flowers; I have said what I said today several times before.
Riding to the Morteau I was watched by several people from the Haristoffs' balcony; on the way back it was the same. I stopped to speak with Gambart right in front of that balcony. My horse dances, turns, and behaves like an angel. I jump down from the saddle myself. Monsieur de Jahal comes to speak with me; he is a very amusing and agreeable man.
When I said I wanted to speak with Gambart, the Pole said: "That poor man is waiting for his horse and it will take some time." The same thing I said when he proposed going to fetch flowers. He is jealous of Gericke, of Gambart.
Maman still attempts to catch Gericke, but she declared today that she will leave him in peace "since he has taken us in hatred." That is no misfortune; it was high time she left him alone.
We do not go out. The Greek comes in while I am playing (this morning, helping me mount, he made eyes at me) and stays a long time, plays, talks, hums.
He is a nice fellow, but there is no one at our house to amuse him.
Today all is well.
Mademoiselle Fraser, the governess whom Berthe recommends in her letter, comes.
I go to exchange a hat at Neurad's, alone; the Greek accompanies me there, and from there:
"Do not trouble yourself; I can go home alone."
"And what if someone carries you off, ravishes you?"
"That is not easy."
"Oh, yes! To ravish you -- you have an impressionable and passionate character."
He is too young.
I lowered my eyes in saying goodbye to him, as Gericke does. He says that Gericke is not sulking, that he does not hate us, that everyone is terribly mistaken, that he knows why he acts this way but cannot say. "I am furious that I cannot tell you, Madame; I gave my word of honor." He said it in such a tone of truth that one is tempted to believe him.
We dine at home; Gambart comes to call with his son and the Malezieux.
Suddenly we receive a telegram: Prince, jury Lautrec, de Pelerty arrives Spa one hour. We thought it was some foolishness from Paul, who had gone to see off some Americans at Pepinstere, but it is simply the deacon arriving. Sent as a courier to Berlin, he was passing through Pepinstere, saw Paul there, and comes to spend a few hours here. Walitsky takes charge of him, has him taken on walks, etc., etc.
I read on the balcony; I see Gericke and the count walking on the square. They did not see me, and I did not see them either. I do not understand Gericke's behavior; there is something behind it.
Maman becomes very ill and the ball is done for.
I won fifteen kopecks from Monsieur de Jahal; I bet this morning that I would not go to the ball.
Perhaps I have not mentioned that all these days people joke about Gericke.
Last evening at Maman's we were speaking of beauties. I was saying that it is not so much beauty as a certain expression, an expression I cannot define and have been trying to define for so long. Maman said that all reigning personages have distinctive faces. No, that is not it; it is because one knows them to be such, it is because they have an expression... of omnipotence! At last I have found the word. Yes, it is the expression of omnipotence that gives them their distinctive face. Oh, Maman! Who will dare say that lineages do not exist!
"Well, Moussia," said Walitsky, "what lineage? Well, for instance, at least Hamilton -- truly he is distinguished."
I blushed a little, but did not smile because he was not saying it to tease me. Maman's face became slightly worried. "Distinguished, without a doubt; I have not yet seen a man so distinguished. There is another who has the expression of omnipotence. Princess Souvoroff has it, and Gioia. Am I not right?" I cried, transported at having found what I was looking for. Maman agreed. Indeed, as far as women go, I know only Souvoroff and Gioia who have that expression, and as for men, the Duke...
I have already said that there is here an interesting gentleman, a real one, not like all those wretches.
I pointed him out to Dina; he was passing on foot with another man who was also not bad. He is of the Wittgenstein type.
I said to Dina: "You see, my dear, I am right, am I not? You understand that all those wretches mean nothing to me. I have chosen ideals so far above. For instance, Hamilton, Wittgenstein, Galve" (I said Galve because I was afraid of saying too much). "Is he not charming, that gentleman? He may be a cad, but at least he looks very well." "In truth, my dear, you have something of my taste; I am surprised and approve, since you share my taste."
The little one speaks! I make her speak.
I should like to know who that handsome man was, if he is a great lord, and what his name is.
Not dressed, not washed
And very often unshaved
Of swarthy complexion
With black eyebrows
Not of old years
Descendant of Achilles
Admirer of the King of Ephesus
Papari poulos Greek
And a wit.
The singer of Peter the Great
Monarch half-savage
With four eyes
Albin Body
No other rhyme than gody
From the empire of herrings
Baron of the Dutch state
Gericke, bold man of fashion
A true marvel
Val.
From the province of Franche-Comte
The handsome Count de Tanlay
Is proud of his station
Observes the others with disdain
Secretary to Chakmagan
He drinks all the water at Pouhon
And wants to surpass the baron.
[In the margin: Walitsky's improvisation]