Sunday, 16 May 1875

Our gesture — the Masonic gesture by which we recognise one another — it is, it is, let me see how to explain it...
When one knocks one’s hand against a table or something else, one shakes it — and there you have our sign.
We do it everywhere — even at the theatre (at the theatre, only a semblance of it, of course), for the full gesture is familiar to the Nice people when someone is spinning them a yarn.
I was at church; I work in the afternoon; and at five o’clock we go out — the young ladies under the chaperonage of my aunt. We often walk alone, and do not behave too badly.
Just as we go out, Audiffer comes out of his lane — which is almost directly opposite our door — and, craning his head first to one side then to the other to see past his coachman’s back, follows us down the lane leading to the Promenade. We stop at the Bains Georges; he passes by, but a moment later turns back and comes down. Our party were in the bathing cabin, and I stood at the door trying, without success, to shut it.
Just at that moment Girofla comes up in front of me and goes right down to the water’s edge, where one sits to watch the bathers.
Impatient at not being able to shut the door, I went to shut the one giving onto the sea, and while trying to do so with half my body outside the cabin, I was answering Marie: “No, today I shall not bathe.” I had scarcely finished when the handsome zero — as Collignon calls him — vanished, mounted on his chariot, quite elegant, I must say, and was gone.
Was it by chance, was it deliberate? I do not know — but while our young ladies bathed and my aunt and I sat waiting on the edge, I laughed as... as I laugh when such coincidences occur.
The others went off in the carriage, and I went to find them at the concert on foot, with my aunt.
(continued in the next book.)

Notes

Marie draws an ironic parallel between their girls’ club’s secret signal and the secret gestures of Freemasonry. ↩