Thursday, 3 September 1874

I was not yet dressed when Florence comes with her brother and their dog Glen, a very fine animal. [Crossed out: Then]

The count also comes, whom I had ordered yesterday to find out the name of the very pale Englishman. Well, the very pale Englishman is none other than Doria's brother. Basilevitch comes too.

Only at one o'clock do I persuade my aunt to go bathing. The Fosters come as well, and Merjeewsky carries my comb, my mirror, etc.

Often, especially after reading about Louis XIV, I imagine myself a king.

As, for example, today in the bathing cabin: it was raining and everyone stayed inside; I wanted to undress and had great difficulty restraining myself from rising and indicating the door with a gesture and a look.

Going to bathe along the seawall, Doria comes towards us; I blushed, they say. Merjeewsky, seeing me blush, blushed too.

"What luck!" my aunt murmured in my ear.

Doria lowered his eyes.

I almost never see his face; he is so tall that by the time my eyes rise to his face, they have been fixed on his person too long and I must lower them or turn them aside, and consequently see the sky.

I am never angry when people joke, but on the contrary I willingly joke myself, especially before Merjeewsky. Since I am not in love with Doria [Crossed out: I laugh with] and he does not disgust me -- on the contrary -- and since he is a proper man, I laugh and invent and tell nonsense.

Several times (the family) asked me whether I would marry Doria, and each time I replied, "This very minute" -- and it is the truth.

I cannot imagine Doria is handsome; my aunt finds him very handsome. But of a person one sees often, of whom one always speaks, I could say nothing.

The bath was deliciously cold. There was almost no one and it was raining. We lunch at the Plage with the Fosters; it rains so hard that to return we take a carriage.

I go inside their rooms; Florence sings, I sing too.

Then I go home. I do not dine until eight, and very badly. From there, without changing, I go to the ball with my aunt. We hide in a corner, but there we are found by Basilevitch, Count Barkowsky and the Fosters.

Foster 2 proposes a stroll; I accept, being very pink -- all the more so because Doria, that hero, is here and one must pass before him. I am in a cloth dress, and despite this, people look at me a great deal; Doria himself looks at me.

I take this stroll, during which I several times encountered Doria. Foster leads me near the door to watch the dances; Doria is there. We stroll through the antechamber; Doria too. We go back into the grand room; Doria too, and goes to sit down.

I am very flattered; I was much looked at, and for this reason I shall in future have a good memory of Ostende. This town where I am bored will make itself missed. I regret Ostende on the eve of leaving. Because of this I have postponed our journey until Saturday.

I shall miss Doria.

But Walitsky forever prevents me from writing, coming to declaim verses about Doria.