Friday, 6 November 1874

We went as far as Valrose — Nina wanted to see Derwies, their former steward and someone they had helped. How the roles have changed! It is she who now wants to be in his debt.
But the powerful lord is not in Nice. From there we went to Besson the gardener, who I hope will lay out our garden.
Then came talk of the lord of the Tower:
— What's this — is he courting her? asked Nina.
— Not at all — he isn't even an acquaintance.
— He is ugly, a peasant, a miserable little nobody, said my aunt, almost at the same moment.
— Don't talk like that — he might become, who knows, a fiancé, your son-in-law.
— Oh! No — what an idea! the three of us said at once.
— And if he pleases her?
— No, said Maman — she says that only the man who suits her will please her, and for that I am easy.
And she is quite right.
— Yes, I said in my turn, it is true — only the man I could marry will please me, and as for this gentleman...
Nina looks at me with astonishment and respect — she is surprised to see a girl of my age reason in this way, the more surprised because her own daughter is very different from me.
We were at Lambert's, an antique and curiosity shop. We had come out and were waiting a few steps below — for oysters [Maman had gone to get] — when all of a sudden, with furious speed, comes the most terrible child that fate has ever carried in her womb:
driving himself, top hat on head. — There he is, I said — I am going to blush, I think — fortunately I barely did.
Meanwhile Audiffret stopped at the end of the colonnade, spoke to a man, and made his horse turn, which reared and executed several dramatic movements; then he directed it at our carriage — which he has done once before, last year, though then one wing of his vehicle was torn off and he was set on foot. This time a gesture from Maman averts the catastrophe. These accidents are hardly accidents — I only wonder what the purpose of these collisions is:
— He has done this before.
— Yes, last year — he is doing it on purpose, the wretch!
— What can you expect — he has been trying to make our acquaintance for a long time, and the poor thing dashes about from all sides, said Maman — no doubt to make Nina think it is all for me. Oh, mothers!
I had to get back for Leclerc's lesson. On the Promenade we saw Hector again — that is, Émile — on foot.
— There he is, said Nina in a knowing tone!
— Yes — and I smiled looking at her, then glanced stealthily at Hector; he was looking too but lowered his eyes — I turned away and he looked again, and so on. When our people came back in, they told us — or rather Dina told us — that he had been seen again, and that there had been mutual regardings [sic], and he had even come round to the pretty tobacco shop when our carriage was parked outside it.
I make a comedy of all this and pretend to fear Maman — it allows me to say all sorts of nonsense more freely.
We have company to dinner: M. Lubimoff and son — an elderly senator from Petersburg and a friend of Anitchkoff before the latter became ambassador to Persia. The son has been a widower since March, of a charming wife, so they say, who left him a daughter.
He is of the gray family — gray — but as long as he has no designs on me, he will not be as repugnant as the other one. Gray.
The Howards arrive this evening. We went to the station, Dina and I, under the chaperonage of our mentor Walitsky — Pâris came too. The train had long since arrived, and we went to them in order to express an eager joy that I feel very moderately. We found them in their undergarments. I was tender, they were too, but there is something between us — for I don't know why I came away displeased with myself.
It is because they were not sincere — one senses it instantly by the greater or lesser contentment one feels immediately after such encounters. But one must cultivate them — we are not well established in Nice, alas!
These dear girls told me with a certain triumphant air that they had been bought jet-bead capes:
— Where, my dear?
— At Pygmalion — came the answer, in the same tone as before.
When I returned, Maman told me I had made a fine impression on the young widower, who had been devouring me with his eyes. I saw that he was looking at me, but as for devouring — I know nothing about that. It was Nina who, it seems, noticed. How does one devour? I must pay attention, but I think I shall not be able to tell.
At two o'clock this morning M. Pelikan, notwithstanding his illness, came in all haste to call on us with his daughter — a very elegant person, and I believe free from the envies and secretiveness of the Howards. She herself is not dowdy — what has she to envy? Her father is paralyzed and can barely walk, yet he comes here and is most attentive and amiable.

Notes

Jet-bead capes — fashionable cape collars trimmed with jet glass beads, worn as elegant accessories.