Friday, 21 May 1875

They all arrived too late! We had already finished our leaps and dives, and so on, and were dressing (Marie and I) when they came — Girofla and Galula and Pépino.
As for Saëtone and Danis, they were at the water's edge the whole time, and then sat down near my aunt between the sea and my cabin, so that coming out of the water I very nearly splashed one of them.
My aunt and Olga, the moment Audiffer arrived, came into our cabin; I begged them to go away — both to have more room dressing and to pass in front of those gentlemen. But nothing availed, and we left without walking before the sea, as is proper for respectable people. Those gentlemen were thus disappointed. All the better.
The beach was well furnished with ladies and gentlemen — a pleasure to behold — and so I depart in tranquillity.
We dismiss the carriage and walk; within a few seconds Girofla and Saëtone pass us, and the rest scatter. As I was leaving, Galula was entering — we exchanged good days.
I meet Lucie Durand, elegant and pretty, and speak with her. But how wretched I am to occupy myself with such people.
I feel sorry for myself and despise myself. What can one do, however — one goes out, one sees people, one looks at them involuntarily, one speaks of them.
One studies, no doubt — but the free hours are naturally filled by whatever surrounds one, by the people one sees. Well then, one sees Girofla and company. One speaks of them.
One does foolish things — one lifts a corner of the cabin curtains; Saëtone notices it, tells Girofla, Girofla looks and they all look. Olga lifted the corner, not I — but I did peek for a second, no longer.
Girofla drives off in his carriage and turns to look back. It is silly — grimaces, monkey-tricks, children's games. No matter; it is better than nothing.
The Sapogenikoffs dine and remain for the evening.
Maman, my aunt and everyone speak and make fun of Audiffer. I make fun of him too — but I earnestly wish to see him in love with me.
Ah, if such a thing were to happen! Count Merjeewsky loved me, after all, and everyone says he was worth more than this one.
I know he was better bred — [Crossed out: noble] — very well bred and even educated. It is on my account that he passed his examinations so brilliantly.
— Mademoiselle, he said to me with pleading eyes and his abominable face, what should I do? Tell me — go, or not go. It depends on you... you know that...
— By all means go, finish your studies and come back, I replied with the most indifferent air in the world.
— Ah! you say so — then I shall go.
And the poor wretch went, and returned triumphant — it was that evening he came to tell me so, more by his conquering air than in words. We were at the concert, beneath the trees of the avenue; he sat beside me and spoke to me of Chopin's music.
I knew nothing whatsoever of Chopin and answered vaguely so as not to answer foolishly.
Oh, he was quite revolting. Everyone found him charming and well-bred and educated and even good-looking.
I alone could not bear his presence — how I detest even the memory of him.
My memories of Spa hold no fragrance for me — no one there attracted me, not even a little, not even in the way of Audiffer, and so my heart does not quicken and I am calm.
Baden — ah, that is another matter entirely; it is so much, so much, so much that my eyes shine and a great joy mingled with unease takes hold of my whole being.
And so I shall do everything in my power — and beyond my power — to spend at least a few days there on the way back from Russia.
My God, do not let this plan come to nothing — I think with such happiness of the moment when I shall find myself again in that enchanted garden!
I shall see his villa there, that long avenue covered in roses and the house one can barely glimpse among the trees. I shall see everything, everything — for everything there recalls him to me, and before God, I have known nothing in the world better than remembering him, than seeing him again in thought at least.
If God ever permitted me to see him again — if He extended His goodness and His clemency so far as to...
What was I about to say — madwoman that I am! Many things may be thought, may even be said, but not written. Paper hardens, distorts, and renders absurd what, spoken aloud, passes perfectly well.
[Crossed out: Saturday, 22 May 1875]
Oh, how beautiful the view is from my window! The sea is calm as a lake, and the full moon illuminates upon it a luminous path with a greenish shimmer — this path I see only through the intervals of the cypress foliage, and those intervals form something like the figure of a man [Crossed out: now that of a ]. All the rest is black and mysterious. How wretched I am not to be able to describe properly how the moon plays upon the water, the breeze blows softly, and the frogs sing.
I look — but how beautiful it is! All is black around me; only this long silvery blue-green streak illuminates and sets off the shadow, and I can see it whole or through the trees according to how I incline my head.