Monday, 14 June 1875

I get up lazily, but take my chemistry lesson with Leclerc all the same; we prepare sulphurous acid to decolourise flowers, and nitrogen dioxide.
I have an idea — the idea of taking an interest in Godard. Can you see that love of a name — oh Godard! Oh Godard! But truly, what a love of a name... Godard, oh! Godard.
He is a young swine of seventeen to nineteen, with a certain look — let us see, what look has he? Well, you know the sort: rather thin, a long face, bad skin, dim eyes and an expression as if he had just been kicked — stupid-looking in general. But this creature looks at me, poses, and I find myself wanting him. In fact one might describe him otherwise, but I am not in the habit of sparing people.
Not like Dina — she finds all women beautiful, doubtless so that others, acting as she does, will find her beautiful too.
Alas! I believe that is difficult.
My God, how I wish she would marry! [Crossed out: she is beginning to wither] Mlle Collignon has lowered all the shutters on the second floor — now Girofla will find everything barricaded, as he says. He notices the slightest movements. Before, he says, everything was open; then they began to close — but at the last window over there (my dressing room) there were two little things open (what distinguished language!), and today those have been lowered too.
That was me — I was afraid of being seen from the rue de France. He also tells of everything that happens: what time our carriage comes, when we go out, who calls on us. In a word, everything. To know all this one would have to spend the entire day at the window. So I believe the young man does exactly that.
At three o'clock Marie arrives in a dressing gown, and behind her Olga in a dressing gown as well.
Maman and company are in Monaco with Dina. Yesterday they brought back M. Smirnoff from Monte Carlo hatless, and he slept at the Sapogenikoffs' — no hotel would receive him without a hat, like a scoundrel.
I was saying, I believe, that Marie and Olga had arrived — yes — and I, in my white dressing gown, without corset and without hat, go with them, Collignon, and Dina into old Nice to enquire about a hat I have designed, and from there, instead of returning for the respectable Brunet and his Caesar and Sallust, I go to Lefèvre's. We were in the mood for recklessness — even Collignon.
Lefèvre has a fine bathing establishment. The four of us bathe in the pool (I do not know how to write that word) — Collignon stays behind to chat with Lefèvre. What a chatterbox — one ought to pair her with Saëtone.
We undress together and leap in one after another into this pool of clear, cool water. I am amused, recognising the incontestable superiority of my body over those of my Graces. Marie is much too short and too plump — everything is thick and fat about her. Olga is slender and white but her breasts are already drooping and not firm — besides, she is only a child of fifteen or sixteen. Dina is dark-complexioned, faded, and her breasts resemble small bags with large brown buttons.
Her only beauty is her superb ash-blonde hair (blonde which I do not care for at all — but not everyone shares my taste, and I wish to be fair) — long and silky, true Marguerite braids.
I shriek until breathless, with the others doing likewise — this commotion goes on for more than an hour. I dry myself with my chemise, so that I am obliged to put on my transparent dressing gown full of lace insertions over my beautiful white body (I have, no doubt, my drawers and a petticoat) simply. Fortunately I had brought a sleeveless blue batiste jacket, which saves me.
The doctor gives us milk, cheese, curdled milk curds, cream, biscuits, wine, cherries, etc., etc. Collignon lends me her hat; she herself puts on a black veil, and we set off again — in an open landau this time.
And so I passed the full length of the Promenade des Anglais without a chemise.
The Durands see us in this state. Besides, we were very presentable.
I stay home in the evening and Dina goes out with my girls. While I am writing, Léonie comes to tell me that M. d'Audiffret called and asked for the ladies — and on hearing they were out, said he would come tomorrow at half past four with the break. Léonie added that he had with him a somewhat faded, stout, ruddy gentleman in a small round straw hat. Of course — it is Saëtone.
What a pity!
No doubt he was bringing him so we might have him with us tomorrow. I have told him several times to introduce his uncle to me.
But what a pity that this fat Niçois creature will not be with us tomorrow!
Dina comes home and tells me what our coachman Ambroise told them (Marie talks to all the servants).
So Ambroise recounted that when they first arrived, Mme d'Audiffret was a ravishing little doll — that her parents had taken her from the convent at fourteen to marry her to M. d'Audiffret, who was immensely rich, his son having just inherited several millions.
That the father was an extraordinary eccentric, and the son is just like him. That at first he led an extravagant life — but now the fortune is diminished. As for the son, he is such a terrible gambler that one day he has plenty, the next he has nothing. That he has courted every eligible young lady in Nice, that he is fickle. But that he still has one resource: a millionaire aunt in Marseille, who is very fond of him and will leave him her fortune on condition he marries a niece she has. But young Girofla refuses to marry her because she is crippled, though pretty and only twenty-four.
On Dina's asking how she is crippled, the learned coachman replies that she is missing a leg or an arm — he is not quite sure which.
Phew! I believe I have said everything. Every day we learn fresh news about the Audiffrets. I shall not be so obliging another time as I have been this evening, and shall no longer recount the history of this great family. Dina told me several more anecdotes about the old man — who, to judge by what is said, must be an adorable character.
He has arrived, I believe — I saw through our lowered shutters his shutters open; he is lodged above his dear son.

Notes

Marie was studying Caesar and Sallust (Latin authors) with her tutor Brunet.
Marguerite — Goethe's Gretchen (Faust), the iconic golden-haired German heroine, whose long braids became a literary type.
Caillebotte — fresh-curdled milk curds, a regional dairy product.