Sunday, 13 June 1875

I did the cards for myself and never have I seen a more brilliant spread. Travel, love, wealth, marriage, the complete fulfilment of all my desires, great society, the love of a dark king. Of course! But doubts. I cannot help it — I always doubt.
We go to the sea baths with Maman; Dina and Marie bathe. I am wearing that divine, if somewhat worn, white dress, and I stand out so well from all these people — by my figure, by my air, by my bearing, by my dress!
The devil would have it that Girofla appears at the baths — I, fearing the thunderous glances of the Durands and the others, blush, let my book fall, and to hide this stupid flush I lean to whisper in Maman’s ear, telling her I was blushing and bending over so no one would notice. It was stupid!
And the man from Nice does not even come in — we encounter him on leaving.
— Oh! Ho! Ho! he exclaimed, seeing that the book I was holding was the Histories of Herodotus.
And Marie, Olga and Dina promptly repeat in chorus: Oh! Ho! Ho! Ho! I didn’t know where to put myself. I had said in jest this morning that it would be funny to repeat after him each time — Oh! Ho! Ho! Ho! He does it very often. And now those silly girls!.. One must keep a firm hand on them; they are like young horses — one loses one’s head and doesn’t know what one is doing.
Audiffret asks several times if we are going to the concert, and there he comes up to the carriage and does not leave it until we depart. Galula is on the other side near Olga. This notary is flirting with the little girl. God bless them!
We were speaking of gardens:
— I have a very curious plant to show you, and I should like you to guess where it comes from.
— We simply stole it, Marie is stupid enough to blurt out.
And they tell him how we went out in the evening wrapped in cloaks to steal this plant. It is stupid.
Fearing he might think the plant was taken from his property, I tell him it was on the Promenade.
— So it is on the Promenade des Anglais?
— Yes. Between the pont Magnan and your place.
— I don’t know it.
— And you went into the garden.
— No.
— Then you took it through the railings.
— I don’t know.
— Now you want to put me off the trail!
— No, I assure you.
— And the railings are green.
— Grey.
— No, green with gilded ornaments, and there is a gate.
— Every railing has a gate.
— No, but this one is something else. I know where it is.
— You won’t tell, I said, looking him full in the face. That would be mean.
Back home, Maman goes to the dining room and we go out onto the terrace.
The little fellow passes and we see him stop in front of No. 77 and examine the spot. He turns back and stops in front of us.
— Is it a small succulent? he asks.
— I say nothing, but my Graces say all manner of things.
— With thorns everywhere? he continues.
— No, no.
— You say that to put me off.
— Not at all.
— It is a little thing — a succulent, he says.
The others were about to answer when I said in a simple, calm voice:
— Yes, with a great many thorns.
He was looking me straight in the face.
— And they prick very sharply, I continued.
The poor boy blushed to the tips of his ears.
— How you blush, Monsieur.
I no longer know what he replied — nothing clear in any case. Then we part.
— Good day, goodbye, Mesdemoiselles.
— Good day.
Poor boy. I regret it. But what is one to do with these magpies I have around me, who make me do stupid things.
Poor boy — for him Gioia was indeed a thorn that pricks very sharply. He thought himself the Duke of Hamilton, taking the woman the Duke had abandoned and imitating his carriage and his boots. With Gioia gone, this mania for imitation has passed. Which is very good — he was comical.
Let the Duke of Hamilton remain what he is, and let Émile Audiffret remain what he is — likewise, without seeking to appear what he cannot be, what he cannot possibly be.
Maman seems to live again in me and remembers the time when she was a young unmarried woman, and courted! Well, she has some experience and knows a thing or two about young ladies and young men — and she says that on entering, Audiffret shot me a piercing look that could leave no doubt, and that, in a word, I have him. So much the better, so much the better. But I have these eternal doubts. Doubts are better than a stupid security.
I believe in the cards.
On the day of the old Audiffrets’ separation I read the cards for the young one, and they spoke of trouble, grief, and vexation on account of a king and a queen of clubs. Today I read them for him again and they told me such beautiful things that I do not even wish to say them — but it always ends with doubts. Very natural. And he must doubt far more than I do. Besides, save for a few small differences, the cards were the same for him and for me.
I thank God for having sent me this charming distraction. In Nice in summer I should have died of sadness and impatience to leave.
I am quite willing to leave even now — not only quite willing but I ardently desire to leave; and then something tells me that if I go I shall not stop seeing Girofla.
Truly God is too good — I asked for a little romance for this summer, and...

Notes

In the cartomancy of the period, the “dark king” (roi brun) in the cards represented a dark-haired man in the querent’s life. ↩
“à la musique” — the open-air band concerts, probably those at the bandstand of the Jardin Public, a fashionable social event in 1870s Nice. ↩
Mes Grâces: probably Marie Sapogenikoff and Olga, Marie’s fellow members of the «Three Graces», the mock secret society the three girls founded on 9 May 1875 (032.0378–0370). ↩
The king and queen of clubs in cartomancy could stand for specific people or adverse influences; Marie does not say whom she took them for. ↩