Sunday, 11 April

I was at church with Collignon and Dina. Nothing suits me so well as Anglican prayers. Pending becoming a declared Protestant, I am one at heart. I turned three times to the page where they pray for the Prince of Wales Albert-Edward, for the Queen, and for the nobility. I wonder no longer why they are so adorable — it is because so many prayers are offered for them.
Indeed, if all of England were to beseech God to make a flower grow on my face, the flower would grow.
It is windy; I have no desire to go out and I am dreadfully bored.
Let me not forget — for the past four or five days I have stopped smoking. Some time ago I made a vow to be impertinent no more and to hold my tongue rather than reply brutally to whatever might be said to me — in company, of course.
And if I break this vow, I said to myself, may I be cursed. Now I have broken it, and, having reread the book in which I made this vow, I was so frightened that, in order to make amends and not be cursed, I smoke no more — which costs me quite enough.
Truly, if one knew how idiotically provoking Grand-papa is, and how Maman grates on one's nerves, always ready to push even an angel to the limit. And why also was I born so proud and so insupportante [sic]?
I hope that God will keep a tally of everything and will not curse me, at least.
Georges — that dear brother who loves his poor sister so dearly — has come to see her, and has brought with him a kept woman whom he has installed in the same hotel.
I told him he was a coward, a wretch, a vile creature; that when I touch his hand I shudder with disgust; that I would sooner touch a toad; that if he thinks that because my mother says nothing she is pleased with his outrageous conduct, he is mistaken — she simply lacks the character to tell him what she should; that he is a coward to take advantage of this weakness; a scoundrel, the most base and contemptible creature on earth.
And one should have seen this creature lower his head and smile hypocritically. Say what you like, he seemed to say — I do what I like and couldn't care less about you.
Either a dreadful coward, or an utter brute!
I leave at half past seven with Collignon and we are obliged to wait in the second-class waiting room because this idiot, this coward, this wretch was in the first-class one with that woman. Wretchedness of wretchednesses!
I am delighted to get home; we take tea and I write until one o'clock.
I declared laughingly that I wanted to be a duchess — that I shall be one. Everyone laughed and there was a great deal of talk on the subject.
Oh! If the devil were a duke I believe I should adore him. I throw myself on a bed murmuring: Johnstone beautiful, Johnstone noble, Johnstone proud, Johnstone charming, Johnstone magnificent — come visit me in my dreams, you please me, you are beautiful!

Notes

In English in the original.