Sunday, 3 October 1875

I go to church alone, and tell the coachman to take the lane opposite the school. That way I'll pass by no. 77. Everything is shuttered — they've left! The rogues! I picture the Niçois in the chaise longue with her and her dogs, just like the Englishman she had brought here.
All morning my aunt and I talked of nothing else.
— Well, she said, you chased after him all winter long, and he chased after you too.
— Yes, and he did too — we both chased each other, and when we caught up we didn't find each other interesting enough. Ah, my aunt, I added with a sigh, it's wretched, you know, to have reached the age of sixteen and a half "without triumph and without conquest."
— But you did have your conquest, and Girofla as well.
— Oh, a fine conquest! You are delightful!
— Surely, why else would he have come so often, why all those intrigues?
— Why? But I told you — he was interested, he pursued it, and then it was over.
— Believe me, he sees everything and poses deliberately, and the way he goes about it he'll succeed!
— At what?
— At everything.
— Ah! Ha!
— And you'll embroider him a Greek cap — no, it'll be Nina who embroiders it for you, out of friendship.
— Never, never — and I laughed — that face in a Greek cap must look positively stupid.
There were very few people in church. Seven or eight. The Skariatine woman and her daughter examined me with particular attention — I have no idea what was the matter with them.
— No doubt they've heard what people are saying, and they were sizing up the future Mme Girofla.
— Perhaps. I don't care. You know it amuses me.
He must be something special to bewitch good plain folk the way he does.
Yourkoff escorts me home; we run into Chevalier with his perpetual smile.
My aunt thinks Girofla has an adorable face — which is my opinion as well.
Gone off with Gioia. It's disgusting!
Well, it seems I am the rudest girl in the French Republic. I have offended Saetone! Saetone, my uncle!
At the concert we were with Marie and Olga, when first Galula and then Chevalier came to tell me this. It seems I turned away from him when he greeted me — twice. Oh! This is serious. On the evening of Hernani we left the theatre with Galula and d'Audiffret.
— Allow me to offer you my arm to the carriage, Mademoiselle, said Enoteas.
— Certainly, Monsieur, I replied — but without stopping. I don't know what came over me, and Saetone was left standing there with his arm outstretched and his smile, so that several bystanders began to laugh.
That's quite true, but I did it without meaning to. I explain myself to the two Mercuries of the Grand Mercury, and as we pass, Saetone bows to him with a smile. And since we had already exchanged greetings, he must appreciate this second salutation.
From this a more than animated conversation arose. My aunt said so much, to me and to my Three Graces, that I felt a corkscrew in my heart. She reproached us in no very polished terms for our genuinely stupid behaviour on the day we saw Gioia with the man. In fact, he had been with Saetone, de Cessole, and another — he half-rose, and all three of us turned our heads away. It was beyond absurd!
And I am so ashamed and angry that I now have two corkscrews in my heart.
I acknowledge my faults, I reproach myself, I beg my aunt to stop this lecture — but nothing works, she keeps going like a barrel organ. Half laughing, half in earnest, I am exasperated! Nothing is more atrocious than being reproached for things one is already reproaching oneself for! He may have taken offence! Good God! If only she knew how much it grieves me — and yet it also reassures me: at least it's my fault, at least he wasn't the first to turn away.
— Marie! Olga! I cried. Do you see how she is mistreating me? Reproach me for anything — except Girofla! Because, you see, I have undertaken, I have set my mind to... well, no, I shan't say.
— I know, said Olga.
— Very well, all the better — then you must understand that in such a case there is no politeness to observe, no conduct to follow, no Maman, no aunt, no one! One follows one's instinct, like dogs. In affairs of this sort no one ought to meddle — they are personal matters, they concern only me and... the other person.
And besides, I said, resuming my clownish air, I was vexed — he had sworn me fidelity. Could I have controlled myself? No, I could not. He told me—
— Oh! cried Olga, blushing and throwing me a thrice-jealous look. Oh! So you admit it!
— Alas! I said humbly. Yes, I admit it — I have that charming habit. He told me he loved me. He wrote it!
— What? When?
— On biscuits he passed me — at our house, in front of twenty people.
— Well, I never!
— Yes, and then at the country ball... and then everywhere.
Olga blushes and her eyes take on all manner of expressions, and I continue mercilessly to recount everything — all that I have written, and the things I haven't written in my journal, because often when I have the most to say I say almost nothing, and only remember it some time later.
I am a good sort — I never have secrets. Besides, my Three Graces are good sorts too.
I simply didn't know it had gone so far with Olga. I should have guessed — with her romantic, childlike nature; charming child, charming! Her temperament will do her harm — she is credulous and naive.
— My dear, forgive me — I hope we shan't come to blows. You've sulked at me over this before; don't do it again. I'm only saying what happened. I'm in the wrong — we'll end up killing each other!
— Don't worry, I shan't do anything! I never sulked at you.
— Besides, said Marie, I know Olga — she's jealous for two days and then it passes, she thinks no more of it!
— All the better, all the better!
And all in a ferment we go up to Nina's. There the conversation takes on a more serious character. Nina on the sofa, my aunt beside her, Olga kneeling to the right, Marie opposite separated by the table, and me everywhere at once. I begin by burying my head in Nina's bosom and shaking her like a person in despair. My aunt recounts the offence done to Saetone and to Girofla — we all speak at once, laughing and uproar!
— As for Saetone, said Nina quietly, do not grieve yourself, Moussia — he is a dreadful creature, and I know things about him!
— What? What? we all asked at once.
— I don't understand his conduct in all this, but he is a disgusting brute. You know, I don't know why, but he kept coming here and disturbing Olga. You understand, it's terrible to throw a young girl's soul into turmoil — he came to tell her that Girofla was madly in love with her, that in his letters he speaks of no one but her. In short, he wanted to make her infatuated with the man! His role here has been detestable! He filled the child's head with ideas! And... you are children; I am a woman, I know society a little. And I remember that the father of little Louba here amused himself the same way — he made me fall for Larsky by coming to tell me all manner of things and going to his house and saying the same. I know what this is. Saetone wanted to arrange everything between Olga, Girofla, and Moussia — I no longer know how — the horrible go-between!
Fortunately Olga has no secrets from me, and he saw that perfectly well.
Meanwhile Olga, flustered and blushing, was losing her composure and tugging at Nina's sleeve to make her stop.
— Well, I said, I see a great deal of darkness in all this, and something curious is about to happen. Yes, Saetone is a horror!
— Besides, said my aunt, this is his role everywhere — there was the same thing with Lewin and Clémentine Durand. I cannot understand what this man gets out of it.
— But he did the same with me, I said — he came to sing me his songs too, only not to the same extent; he confined himself to asking what feelings I had for his lord and master.
In short, these dialogues are tiring my pen — the players in this scene spoke badly and spoke Russian, while I alone answered them in French.
There you have it: Olga head over heels in love and disappointed; Nina-maman disappointed and wounded; my aunt watching over my interests; myself more than anyone entangled in the affair; Marie neutral.
Grievance upon grievance, the chorus of five wounded women, accusing, overwhelming Saetone. I extricate myself by talking nonsense, which at each dangerous moment sends the company — as our good Nice folk say — into fits of laughter.
An evening of confidences: we recount the perfidies of Satan-Saetone, that abominable Mephistopheles.
M. Sapogenikoff, who had been in Nice during our absence, noticed the excitement in Olga over Girofla, had a serious conversation with her, and instructed his wife to keep their daughter at home as much as possible.
— I would be very pleased, said Nina, if these gentlemen would stop coming to my house. I don't want Olga disturbed — she is nervous, lively, easily inflamed! It's because of all this nonsense that I won't let her go to the concert or the promenade.
Meanwhile my aunt kept scolding us for that wretched turning of heads, and I stretched out on the sofa with great sighs, speaking in Girofla's manner:
— Me, not go home! My aunt will eat me alive there — judge what I'll get at home by what I'm getting here. Ah! Me die of despair!
We settle back around the table and, once more, grievance upon grievance, which I interrupt with remarks that make everyone laugh.
— You know, me study Nice language with Léonie and the laundress across the way.
— Yes, said Olga, you must know it well — since you're going to settle in Nice, up on the hill.
[Five lines cancelled]
— Nonsense, all of it — but here's the thing: I want to write a play out of this whole affair, and it will end with tonight's scene.
— Yes, said Marie, and I'll step forward to the footlights and say: Good Lord, how very glad I am not to have become infatuated with that man!
— And, I continued, the curtain will fall without the others moving, sitting quite calmly around the table. That will be original.
In the carriage with my aunt, we tell each other very seriously that Girofla is a good-for-nothing, that he is only in love with kept women.
— He lives quietly with Gioia, said my aunt, and gives no one else a thought.
— Of course — and that Nina who takes everything seriously. No, but — you know, she took all this seriously? Hence the disappointment and the anger; it's only natural.
— One would think it was a matter of some king who...
— Yes, exactly — a king who has not yet chosen, and the whole court is in turmoil: intrigue, waiting, and a great uproar!
— It's ridiculous!
— I should say so.
We return home, and at dinner grand-papa is initiated into all the mysteries.

Notes

Moussia — Russian diminutive of Marie (Masha/Maria), used by Nina as a family nickname.