Tuesday, 29 June 1875

At the concert we see our friends Fiouloulou and Enoteas. Godard, oh Godard, he was all in white.
I should like to make his acquaintance.
The Sapogenikoffs and Smirnoff are at our house; I stay up rather late. We laughed a great deal the day after Smirnoff was brought home without a hat and slept at the Sapogenikoffs’, in the bed of Yourkoff, who had just left. We pictured Yourkoff coming back by some chance or other, and his face at the moment when he strikes the match and finds his bed occupied.
I am as sad as a prisoner; I remembered the brilliant winter when the Duke was here. The air was cool, the sun more dazzling without burning, society was elegant. One felt well. And he was there, fresher and handsomer and more brilliant than the air and the sun and all the finest society put together.