Wednesday, 12 May 1875

I am beside myself, it is so hot.
I had quite resolved to spend the summer in Nice, apart from the trip to Russia — but everything melts in the Nice sun, even the finest resolutions. After Russia, I shall go to the seaside in England; this arrangement suits me for a hundred reasons, and may perhaps enable me to avoid my fate!
On the subject of my fate — it seems he is still in love; his mother sent him to Odessa, where he came down with typhoid fever. "Tender-heart's water," as we say. Maman came to tell me the news while I was studying. "Moussia, Gritsia is getting married."
"Good — I knew perfectly well what you were about to tell me, for when you have to say this sort of thing you put on an expression you use on no other occasion."
I go to the sea with everyone else and bathe Victor Frédéric, that admirable dog.
I am burning, and after having burned, I am pale. As always in summer at Nice.
No, accursed city — you shall not have me this summer.
I return from the theatre. Girofla-Giroflé-Girofla was so pale that he seemed interesting to me. It was the closing night at the Bouffes; on Friday Ravel's performances begin. I did not look at Girofla at all, and cannot say whether he looked at me; once, in passing, I thought I saw him turned around, leaning on his hands and the back of his chair, looking over.
Poor dear — his pallor truly disposes me in his favour.
At the exit, when the carriage had already moved off, I saw him again — but red this time. Pale, he is interesting; red, he makes me smile pleasantly.
What is strangest in all this is that despite my fine phrases the other day, two years, two months, and twenty-one days — are just words; I am more in love with this man than ever, which is astonishing! I was fourteen years old, and it has already been more than two years since I saw him. Nonsense — did I not say that, without knowing it, I loved him from the very first moment? For the first time I heard his name, I remembered his name — because it had struck me so strangely.
To whom do I need to say that I love him — whom need I reassure? To the devil with affectations! I love him; I see him before me; I remember him — and that is all.
The moment I am married I shall go and find him — for it is from my marriage that my freedom will date. When really it should be the opposite.
See how the world is made!

Notes

"L'eau de cœur tendre" — an idiomatic family expression, apparently ironic: lovesickness expressed as a kind of watery ailment.
Interesting in the 1870s sense: romantically compelling, worthy of a lady's notice.