Saturday, 2 October 1875

Never has a dream given me so much pleasure! Girofla declared his love and asked for my hand in marriage — and so naturally, so realistically, the smallest details were so perfectly observed in this charming dream that nothing can convey my disappointment on waking.
Well — here are the dark thoughts. I expected them: it was too rosy yesterday.
We are abandoned by all — except the future notary Fiouloulou-Detriaz. A secondary character, etc. — it is lamentable, it is distressing.
Everyone will say that he has left me standing there, just as everyone was saying that he was courting me. Oh! the world, the world! Filthy assemblage of filth!
I involuntarily followed a handsome boy, a stranger — he lives at no. 53; a very young pup, barely twenty, less perhaps. He was coming out of the baths and I was going in; it was half past ten.
No, I am tormented — they will say about Girofla what they used to say about...
Ah! Accursed! Ah! Villain! My God, my God, deliver me from this thought! That man — that accursed man — that eternal spectre — that shadow which slips between me and the rest of humankind, pitilessly, ceaselessly!
Ah! God! Holy Virgin!
My waltz of roses is a great success at Nina's — the girls think it very good; as for me, I find it detestable. But occasional pieces please by their allusions. "You shall have sugared almonds" has delighted Olga, who talked all evening of sugared almonds.
Fiouloulou is at their house; I do not sing before him, naturally — to sing I leave the drawing room.
Several times one nearly touched sensitive chords; several times I went to the balcony or into the antechamber with Giroflé. All of this on account of Girofla.
"My husband," I say, speaking of my aunt's love for me, "my husband will be the unhappiest of men — he will have two mothers-in-law. People complain when they have only one, and two!..."

"Yes," says my aunt, "especially me — for I see things!... I discover everything."
I go to the balcony — that remark seemed to me to contain a host of things unnecessary to say.
It is true that she sees and discovers everything. I really do not know how she does it — it is she who puts everything before my eyes, everything I did not even suspect.
Then we sing the tune from the family's play: "Oh! Girofla, flower of innocence." And my aunt says that Girofla is no flower of innocence. Galula insists that he is; she insists that he is not — and a whole affair during which I feared at every moment an outburst.
At last Fiouloulou speaks of my power.
"I assure you, Madame, that if your niece wished," he says, casting a glance at me and another at my aunt, "if your niece wished, she would lead you to the top of the mountains!"

"But the main point," I say, "is that the niece does not wish it. I do what I want because I never want anything but what my aunt wants — and so I shall lead her neither to the top of the mountains nor to the bottom of precipices!"
I was on pins and needles the entire time — one did nothing but steer that poor conversation through passages so dangerous and delicate that...
And it is curious how one says things without saying them — one speaks of Gambart [Crossed out: of Fiouloulou] and one understands that one is thinking of Girofla.
The veil of delicacy — always indispensable — was torn in several places; fortunately the holes were patched by bursts of laughter, without which I truly do not know how one would have got through.
I grow animated from sheer boredom, and while going downstairs, accompanied by little Fiouloulou, I accidentally let my slipper slip from my foot — it falls all the way to the bottom, so that the dark-haired Niçois goes to fetch it for me.
Cinderella and Prince Charming!
Oh! What a farce at Gioia's — nearly everything is shut up. If she has gone off with him I am furious.
Anything, anything, anything — so long as it does not end as with the other one. That man whose name I refuse to speak, who brings me ill luck. My God, I should like to have a Mass said so that You take from me the Gericko-terror! But I have not a single pretext to offer! God will accept my prayer alone; I shall go to the church tomorrow and I shall pray, and perhaps He will hear me! If I do not have a Mass said, it is for fear that they will say it is for...
Well — I hope that God will take account of my desire, and that He will hear me.
[Crossed out: Sunday, 3 October 1875]
Fiouloulou puts us in the carriage and says that my aunt is "la tante gâteau" — and she, hearing instead that the aunt spoils everything:

"Oh! That is true — the aunt spoils everything, for she sees things — but such things! And she spoils everything."

I translate these words.
Girofla is doing foolish things; I see everything and I shall put a stop to it.
In short, one understands what I have understood, and Fiouloulou has understood.
That is not right — for really, my aunt speaks exactly as though we had rights over the superb Hector.
I am stupefied here; the long absence of the Hamilton circle has dried up my mind. A total eclipse of all intellectual faculties — and here is the proof:
The most brilliant writer is Alexandre Dumas.
The handsomest man is Emile d'Audiffret.
There is where my poor mind stands at the moment!
That is how I am.
When I do not see something for a long time, I end by believing it does not exist. When I have a bad horse, it seems to me that all horses are like that.
I do not know how to explain what I think — that is my misfortune!
In the name of heaven, understand! If you do not understand — so much the worse!
When I take a step into subtleties, it is all over — I sink in up to my ears.
Let us reread what we have just written. I have reread it — it is not clear, but upon my word I leave it as it is.

Notes

Dragées (sugar-coated almonds) are traditionally distributed at weddings and christenings — the joke implies marriage is imminent.
"Gericko-terror" — Marie's coined compound, almost certainly referring to Gericke, a man linked to a scandal/slander concerning Marie in an earlier carnet. His name had become synonymous with her worst fear: being gossiped about.
A pun: tante gâteau (literally "cake aunt") means an indulgent, doting aunt; but Marie's aunt hears tante gâte tout — "the aunt who spoils everything."