Friday, 22 October 1875

I rise early, so I had to wait some time to know whether he was there. He has not left! But that is worse still, I said to myself, seeing the shutters open.
It rains, but at three o’clock the weather turns ravishing and we go out. I walk with my aunt.
The man is on the balcony of the club.
There is Olga in seventh heaven — their house is next to the club, and she is at her window while he is on the balcony.
The carriage stops right in front of the bench where they are seated — Bibi and Laurenti. He can do nothing but rise and come to greet us. This abominable creature tells Maman that these young ladies dress too elaborately, and that he would dress them in sackcloth.
“Then you are going straight back into the carriage, Mademoiselle?” he says to me as I am putting on my jacket.
“Yes, Monsieur, I have walked enough,” I say, unsure of myself, angry and unsettled.
A moment later we pass again and see those men on the same bench, and Saëtone is with them.
Maman and my aunt say he is paying attention to Olga. I keep silent, furious. At last I burst out in invective against all these Niçois. They deserve it.
“What sort of conduct is this?”
“Who asked for them?”
“They have come, and now they have not even paid any calls!”
I fly into a rage before us all. We go up to Nina’s.
That madwoman Marie, who believes in Cima’s return!
I go straight out onto the balcony with Olga, and in the dusk we watch Girofla on the bench. Olga is radiant; I am seething but let nothing show.
At last we go home, and I warn the family that I am in an execrable temper, and I talk to them exactly as I would talk to my journal.
Maman says it is all very natural, that the man is very handsome and will always please; that he is, besides, a thoughtful and steady young man who does everything in moderation. Oh yes, it is true — I remember he came to pay his call only a few days after he had been introduced.
They admire his looks, they do justice to his character. “He is a young man who is not easily carried away,” says my mother.
The accursed man has really grown handsomer after spending a whole day howling after Gioia.
They try to calm me, but I riddle d’Audiffret with every bad thing I know about him; I beat Frédéric, who lets himself be beaten with pleasure. I had to smash, break, beat. I do not hide my anger in the least — on the contrary — only I give it another cause: before everyone I am angry with the Niçois, and in reality I am furious over one Niçois.
I shut myself in and pray. I had hardly begun when I said to myself: Useless, useless! It is ridiculous to hope for anything after a prayer like this, when after so many, many prayers and tears — and what prayers, and what tears! — I obtained nothing.
When I prayed for the Duke.
And in despair I let myself sink to the floor, half kneeling, half sitting, and began to weep, asking at least for some consolation.
My God! I remember that it once seemed to me that, as in that fairy tale, I had only to confess in order to succeed.
It seems to me, I said, that on the day I say to myself: I love him! all the obstacles will fall. Well, I say it tonight, on my knees: I love him!
I cast off my useless and unhappy pride, I cast it underfoot, and I say to You, my God, that I love him!
I know that I say it only so that my humiliation may be the greater, for now that I have given myself up, God will punish me again; it is now above all that He will humble me and trample me into the mud.
God despises me and man despises me; I deserve it; I despise myself.