Saturday, 29 August 1874

It rains and the trip to Bruges does not happen. I lunch at the Kursaal; Merjeewsky is near us.

I detest him.

Plobster poses the whole time before us, and I cannot see him without laughing. He gesticulates like Paparigopoulos. The moment I see his long nose under his little mushroom of a hat, I laugh like a madwoman. I have made him fashionable among us and we all take an interest in him. He poses in every manner to the point of absurdity. He is not a true Plobster, but he is amusing as a poseur.

It rains and the wind blows, the ocean roars; the weather is dreadful. We take refuge in the reading room, where Plobster also comes and turns his graceful back. He resembles a lobster.

Koutski, who is to give a concert with Nagornoff and Mme Conneau, noticed me at once and asked Merjeewsky to be introduced to me. Merjeewsky introduced him. [Crossed out: his wife looks like a courtesan.]

Basilevitch and Viviani dine with us at the Plage; then we and they rejoin Maman and the others at the Kursaal and settle before the window of the reading room. Plobster approaches Basilevitch and is introduced to us.

The Chevalier Edouard de Moelenar.

After a fortnight of posing, here he is close at hand, this handsome knight errant. He spoke to me of my boots, of my feet, but his language lacks polish, and he is not a true Plobster. He stays with us until nine; there is no more need to pose.

The conversation was general; Merjeewsky saw that without him everything went well.

Basilewsky sits down between us and we begin to laugh. He is very droll: he calls Viviani "Mademoiselle. 'Ah, Mademoiselle, do you understand Russian?'" Basilevitch, Maman, my aunt and even we tease and annoy him; he defends himself as best he can, this poor sack.

We teased him, but at least we laughed -- worse than madpeople -- until nearly -- [Six written pages torn out.]

Everything happened en famille!