Thursday, 17 June 1875

And Audiffret did not go! They — I mean the young ladies — went for nothing. I am pleased.
Just as I thought, my aunt is hurt that Girofla does not fall on his knees and proclaim me queen of his heart.
She is noisy only at home; when there is anyone about (and now I no longer know how to spell that word!) she is shy and at a loss — says my aunt.
You understand the allusion.
She does not know how to win people over, she goes on (they are talking of Miloradovitch); she is, in truth, the most innocent of creatures. All she can do is talk, prattle and show the bad side of her character.
There, you see! We had been on the beach for half an hour, with Bihovetz beside me, when the hero arrives with his uncle; he poses on the pier for a few moments and at last comes down to us.
So we have three cavaliers. Godard is there; I shall speak of it to Saëtone at the first opportunity.
I behave like an angel, calm and simple, and he darts a piercing glance at me on the sly.
From the baths I go on to the band concert. Our three young ladies are on horseback with Smirnoff, the Russian we met at Monaco.
I am thoroughly ashamed. Not one of them can ride, the horses are nags, and this divine procession parades along the Promenade, exposed to everyone’s ridicule. The Prodgers woman, who drove us out of the Howards’ house, is close by in a basket carriage with a woman of doubtful character who laughs and jeers aloud.
written across the page
Georges slapped M. Prodgers.
The whole town has been set in an uproar by this cavalcade! cries that disgusting woman in spectacles.
Then my aunt says to me, loud enough to be heard: That is better than setting society in an uproar with spectacles and scandals.
I am very embarrassed and would gladly be elsewhere. This cavalcade is grotesque. I thank heaven I am not part of it.
My aunt and I say nothing, and both of us think of Audiffret. Out of the water behind us, he strolls about, then goes up to the carriage of the Arson girls, his childhood friends, then drives off in his own carriage, comes back, turns, and finally, at long last, approaches us. Galula is at my aunt’s door and he at mine, but for most of the time the conversation goes criss-cross.
I do not blush, I do not stir an inch more than I must; I behave adorably.
As we drive home my aunt admits as much, but, she tells me, it is a little too reserved — there ought to be some coquetry.
What! This is what my aunt advises me!
Don’t exaggerate — I don’t say too much, I say a little; let it be graceful and nice.
It will come, Aunt, just wait.
At dinner Nina tells us how a man killed himself for her. By Jove! — that is what I need.
I have just said something stupid; I had not half written it before I was already sorry. Confound it!
I shall say why I am afraid, why I am uncertain.
At Spa Maman told me that Gericke was keeping away and hiding because he thought me in love with him. I was in despair over it. Ever since, it always seems to me that others think as he did, and I am afraid of being amiable — I am afraid of everything and everyone. That season at Spa was like a poison to me, which spoils everything for me even now. Ah! if only God would drive these ideas out of my head and give it back its freshness and its confidence of old.
And just look at that horrible Dutchman, who imagines such things without any reason whatever.
Now an idea comes to me. Is Girofla playing all these games because he is in love and does not want it to show? That is the question.
Who can sound the hearts of men and see their thoughts?
Who can guess?
Who knows whether he is not thinking just as I am?
A mystery more incomprehensible than the Apocalypse, more incomprehensible than that passage of Aulus Gellius which no one has ever been able to understand.
Why rack one’s brains? Time will tell.
A letter has come from Paul. There was a grand dinner; they drank to the health of the dear absent hostess (Maman), wished for her return, and had only one fear — that when she came back she would make everyone fall in love with her.
My father is waiting for me impatiently.
I want to go! And that uncle who never comes!
Dear God, do make him come sooner!

Notes

In English in the original. ↩
The French word is quelqu’un. ↩
In French in the original: panier — a light open carriage with a basket-work body, driven by its owner; a fashionable conveyance for ladies. ↩
In French in the original: Bigre. ↩
In French in the original: Mort de ma vie ! ↩
In English in the original. ↩