Tuesday, 6 July 1875

Almost all my gaiety has gone.
My cousin Worth has sent me a ravishing dress of an entirely new cut. In embroidered pink batiste. It is charming in its simplicity and grace. In front, the bodice is trimmed like a pigeon’s breast.
Dina has received a white dress like my white one, and we go out dressed alike. I am very pleased with how I look.
We go to the baths, but just as we are getting out of the carriage we change our minds. Dina does not want to bathe. Nor do the Sapogenikoffs.
Audiffret is in an ugly hat, his clothes all crumpled, thoroughly Niçois. The Duke of Hamilton could neglect himself like that, but this audacious creature cannot. And besides, the Duke always had an irreproachable shirt.
But what am I doing? Putting the Niçois beside the other — shame on me!
He apologises, saying he has been busy since morning with arrangements in the public garden for Saturday’s fête.
At the concert he comes to find us with Saëtone and says, among other things, that he is only waiting for this fête, since he is on the committee, before leaving.
There you are! What little gaiety I had turns to displeasure. I hope he says it only for the sake of saying it, as before. Just look at this vile creature. I have said it and I say it again: he is my only distraction here. And that uncle who does not come!
Godard comes up to the carriage. He is ugly and speaks in an ugly way. But he speaks English, and I like that. For our family’s benefit, he is the one who interests me, and I say so with affectation.
I dreamed of Girofla all night.
It is very hot; I am bored.
In the evening Fiouloulou, d’Audiffret and his uncle are at our house. We do not laugh as we used to. The little wretch is suitably dressed, which is a mercy.
I must not think anything of it; he has courted all the pretty young ladies, it is my turn, that is all.
I reason like a fool: he does not court me at all, and that is what intrigues me. On the contrary, he is timid. Never any familiarity with me, as there is with Giroflé.
I am dressed as for the Promenade, that is, in my long white dress, only instead of the white bodice I have put on my mother’s jacket, in which my neck and bosom show so white that it is a delight. At heart I am sad, but I let nothing of it show. I read the cards for Girofla and Fiouloulou, then tell their fortunes by examining the lines of their hands.
Saëtone stays in the dining room with Marie, Dina and Olga, and Audiffer does sleight-of-hand tricks with the cards; Fiouloulou watches, and my aunt sits there saying nothing and paying no attention to us.
If he is in love, let him say so, for I am beginning to lose patience. What might make me think so is precisely that he does not court me.
This evening I gathered two or three compliments, but always said to me alone, as if in secret, and after saying them he seems almost frightened.
While showing me a card trick he put his hand on mine, but I said coldly, “Excuse me,” and he began to laugh, embarrassed.
At table we talked of lovers; I praised those of olden times, and for the first time I heard Audiffer say a few words seriously, for he is always joking and making people laugh.
He has wit; I have said nothing about it until now, so as not to be mistaken.

Notes

In Italian in the original: Ecco ! ↩
In French in the original: casaque — a loose jacket or bodice; Maman’s from her girlhood (see 30 June). ↩