Wednesday, 20 January 1875

My dresses have been brought to me; they are all really quite pretty.
After no end of trouble my aunt secured a box at the New Opera, number 16 in the second tier. My hair and the new dress — long, in plain white taffeta, close-fitting long bodice, at the side a reticule of white embroidery, long white gloves, no jewels; my hair very well done, but as for my face, not bad.
I shall not describe the building — it is magnificent, but I envision something better, and I love something grander, more majestic.
It is grand in its dimensions, but almost petty in character.
Nor shall I say anything of society — I know no one there, and without opera glasses I could not see clearly. The house was full, the ladies all in décolleté, but the dresses were decidedly ordinary or downright faded.
We went to see the grand foyer, and I swept through it most majestically in my long dress — my first long dress — and yet I was perfectly at ease; far from feeling encumbered, I loved the train, and it is with a train that I feel truly myself. Nothing is uglier of an evening than those dresses that are neither long nor short — worn by those creatures who are no longer children but not yet young ladies.
I was much looked at. I am someone who is noticed everywhere — I do not boast of it, for it is not by my own merit but by what God has made me.
They were giving La Juive with la Strauss. The staging is magnificent; the stage is so vast that the performers look like flies, and fifteen horses were not enough to fill it.
On leaving we found no carriages, and after waiting a long time for goodness knows what — during which my aunt was pulling such faces that people stared — we set off on foot, I furious, oh! but furious. Within two minutes we found a carriage, and once inside I began punching my aunt in the side, for she was truly maddening; whereupon she, quite naturally, jumped out and walked, while I continued in the carriage.
Is it not monstrous!
But my rage had not passed, and I set to reading until three in the morning, fell asleep at four, and woke the next day at four in the afternoon.

Notes

In French in the original: aumoniere — a small decorative pouch worn at the side, a fashionable medieval-revival accessory. ↩
La Juive (1835): grand opera by Fromental Halévy, one of the most celebrated works of the genre. ↩