Sunday, 27 September 1874
Dimanche, 27 septembre 1874
We are late for church again, but on the way we meet Monsieur Tchernichoff — the one who was recently in Nice, the one who married Mme Ketly, who, they say, poisoned his first wife — not Doctor Tchernichoff, in short. He proposes that we lunch together and we go to the Cafe Riche. From there to the races; he comes with us. He is agreeable but of such bad manners that I had to restrain myself from telling him not to gesticulate and shout so much.
The races are much more entertaining than last Sunday with regard to the society present. The pale Doria was there and many others; I brought the programme home. We leave before the end and drop Tchernichoff at the Grand Hotel, then return to watch the procession of carriages, which was very fine. The Duchesse de Mouchy always looks at me — does she too see that I am pale? I do everything I can to be so no longer! My God, all our acquaintances speak to me only of my pallor.
But there, in an elegant carriage, passes de Gonzales with his wife, Mathilde, and Remy, and he composes a magnificent smile for me; he looks pleased to see me and I like that.
The whole family also greeted me very cordially, but Remy did not smile — decidedly I do not please him. We saw them once more and the greetings and smiles were repeated.
My face looks better today and I feel well.
My God, make me pink and fresh again! I am already better, [Crossed out: but] I have no patience, but what was done in four months cannot be undone in a week. I was ruining myself for four months, and I have only begun to set things right for one week! But all the same I pray; I am so weary of these:
"How pale you are!"
"Why are you pale?" et cetera.
And in truth I do not know why I am pale! I did not begin to feel ill until near the end of Spa, and without cause, without reason!
But I believe it has been nearly a year since it began. I worked a great deal this winter; I slept barely seven hours, often only six.
At last — I dare not attribute it to that — but I think that my follies [Crossed out: for the] on the occasion of the Duke of Hamilton's marriage shook me somewhat. For I was more astonished and overwhelmed than anyone could believe. From that day I became more timid; I was always afraid someone would speak to me of it; I felt altogether weak and strange. I thought often; I spoke more rarely. In a word, I have changed. I do not know whether this change was visible to others, but I know that within I have changed.
I could not better explain my change than by the drop of ink in water.
Moreno was at Saint-Germain; yesterday he called on us but found no one.
The horse at Maurice's is sold; I regret it — it suited me.
I saw the prince of Mme Bravura, as I used to call him in Nice. From Paris I have no desire to go to Nice — I love Paris so! Of my trip to London nothing remains but smoke, everything in smoke, and here I see Paris clear and brilliant.
Worth sent me the white dress, which is admirable. Laferriere will never know how to make the bodice as he does. And seeing this dress so youthful, so simple, so elegant, so noble, so comme il faut, I think I prefer Worth. Laferriere lacks nobility and comme il faut; I could never imagine a courtesan dressed by Worth, whereas in Laferriere's dresses one always has a certain flirtatious air.
I wept when putting on my grey dress for the first time, when it had a black train, so much did I resemble those women. Since the train (from the very first day) is gone, the dress is more comme il faut, but it keeps enough of that air for people to allow themselves to look at me, at first, not as I would like.
Decidedly, having thought it through, I prefer Worth; his dresses command respect despite the simplicity I want. Caroline's dresses are ravishing but they lack nobility. And in everything, everywhere and always, I seek grandeur, nobility, and all that imposes.
I do not like pettiness or pretty things, for they are lost before the great and the beautiful.
Unfortunately I am merely pretty, by all means1.
Well then? I shall be lost before the great and the beautiful! What is to be done?
But at least I shall dress as I like, and besides I am only pretty in my face — all the rest can be classed among the great and the beautiful. With slightly higher heels, a lady's hat, and a long dress, I shall be almost tall.
It is my unfortunate face that cannot be beautiful! What a bore!
And even with good will, if I have the fortune to be in fashion, all will be well. There are women uglier than I who have been made to pass for beautiful; I do not despair therefore.
Men are so stupid! Society is so frivolous!
Eh bien ? Je perdrai devant les grandes et les belles ! Que faire ?
Notes
In English in the original. ↩