Monday, 5 July 1875

Vanity of vanities! Smoke, smoke, smoke! Vapour, vapour, vapour! Dust, dust, dust!
All my ideas lead nowhere.
Why am I mad enough to want that man’s love? It is a sin, since I do not love him. If I go on, I shall not go to heaven. God does not forgive wrong when it is done knowingly. I am going to make myself plain, dress badly, renounce every kind of coquetry. That is how I wake up.
Smirnoff takes the chemistry lesson with me; he sticks his nose into every flask and every phial, and comes out of my cellar with a headache and the tip of his nose black.
Since Saturday evening I have had two carnations, one white and the other red; it is they that bring me gaiety.
I go to the baths in my Worth dress, long, long. I was told I looked pretty. Dina and Marie bathe. Giroflé is sulking with Girofla, who stays fairly quietly beside me. Thank God, I am beginning to lose my fear that he may think me in love with him, and I behave with him as with the others.
in the margin
Girofla is wearing the kind of hat I like, but I say nothing to him.
My aunt goes to Monaco at eight o’clock. I think the little fellow wanted to come to us in the evening, for he kept telling my aunt that she would not go, in that tone of his.
After all, he is nothing but a fool. What! To know that there is a terrace, and that we go out on that terrace every evening, and not even pass by!
I am bored with Marie on that terrace. Dina and Olga arrive; we hide, slip along the side of the pavilion, go through the stables, get into the carriage and drive about, smoking and laughing. I have us stop at Nina’s; she is at Monaco with Maman and the others.
Marie and I dress in percale frocks like the women of Nice, cover our heads with veils and hats, and go off for a walk about the town on foot. I was not afraid, for if anyone had accosted us I should have made myself known at once.
To round off the day, I write to Smirnoff in the name of my uncle Saëtone, asking him to come and see him tomorrow at eleven o’clock.
Vanity of vanities! Smoke, smoke, smoke! Vapour, vapour, vapour! Dust, dust, dust! So much for all my fine resolutions!
I have an excuse. Nobody tells me that the man loves me. It is even very odd of me to pose as a conqueror who takes pity and who, out of an excess of pride, repents. No doubt Audiffret thinks the same as I do.

Notes

In Latin in the original: Vanitas vanitatum ! — “Vanity of vanities” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). ↩