Monday, 12 July 1875

I lunch alone with an expression so satisfied it is enough to die laughing. I talk to myself under my breath with arrogance and conceit — one would think I had just won a Pharsalus.
Before going to the beach I call at the Sapogenikoffs' and what is my surprise. Olga gives me the cold shoulder, scarcely speaks to me, and when I embrace her she blushes and returns my kiss stiffly.
— What is the matter, my dear?
— Nothing.
— But you scarcely greet me.
Marie is ill; I go to see her in bed — she is as she always is.
— Well then, my little one, I say coming down [with] Olga — are we in a better temper?
— But I am in a bad mood — and this without looking at me, with a pinched expression.
— Goodbye, my angel.
— Goodbye, my child.
Oh! ho! ho! — as Girofla whinnieswhat is the matter?

In English in the original
At the baths, we see Saëtone and Danis. Saëtone, by way of a quantity of mysterious utterances, tells me that these last few days I was sad, that since yesterday I am gay, that I have just passed through a period that everyone goes through in their life — in a word, that I have received a declaration from his nephew. I pretend to understand nothing and laugh at his mysteries and riddles.
Has the little one told them everything, or are they guessing? It would not be difficult. We walked about together enough yesterday, and since we have known him he has scarcely left our side. It is plain to everyone.
I am annoyed that people should think me affected.
Finally Saëtone, looking me full in the face with eyes full of mischief, tells me with an air of more than certainty that I shall not go to Florence but shall spend the winter in Nice.
One might translate his discourse as follows: You love d'Audiffret, he loves you, you have come to an understanding yesterday. You will marry him and stay here.
I am pretty with my new hairstyle — the mythological style, very simple and flat in front but at the same time graceful and becoming.
In the hope of a visit in the evening I remain dressed up until half past nine.
I even started at the sound of the bell — but it was only my goat arriving with her milk.
My aunt is disconcerted not to see Girofla; she says he will never come again, that it is over.
We did not tell him to come. He is dining at his own house, for I can see lights on the terraces.