Saturday, 6 November 1875

The cards predict great troubles on account of the dark king. It is frightening.
This morning I went out onto the pavilion balcony and watched a pretty sailing boat through my opera glasses for a good while; then I turned toward the castle — but scarcely had I done so than I saw the man at his window, and I went back in at once. He embarrasses me, he confounds me; if he could go away from here he would oblige me greatly. He has never been on the footing of a simple acquaintance — and now, with this coldness, he is on an altogether extraordinary footing.
And that first performance at the Opera — which I was preparing to make so splendid! All to the devil now! I had counted on having the box full of people! Oh, yes — count on that!
No — decidedly nothing goes right for me; it is enough to dash one’s head against the wall.
It would be difficult to find a more discouraged person than I am at this moment. And those accursed cards! I can no longer see the Queen of Hearts without anger.
Wait — do you remember that it was Dina who was teased about Audiffret at the very beginning — a year ago? How strange. No — frankly, I must become reasonable and mount my pedestal, raise myself above these miseries. I am so run down and discouraged that I consent to anything — so long as I do not fall ill. So long as one does not...
Horror! God, take these thoughts from me!
I shall dress and go out.
Has it ever happened to you that everything goes wrong? My hair will not go right, my hat slips at every moment, the flounce of my petticoat tears with every step I take, pebbles get into my slippers and work through the stockings and prick my feet!
We go to the concert, then to the English shop; I order a white flannel jacket and a grey frock coat like Audiffret’s — it is quite the fashion, but worn by me it will be new.
We step out of the carriage and after a few minutes I see Audiffret coming with... with Désiré.
“Good day, Madame,” says Audiffret.
“Good day, Monsieur,” says my aunt at the same moment — and the four of us stop for an instant as though hesitating, then we pass each other, which puts us in the most ridiculous position in the world.
There are my Kings of Clubs and Hearts!
We meet them again, and this time I put on a superb expression. That Niçois scoundrel prevented Godard from coming toward me — he practically pulled him back by the sleeve.
My aunt and I are both furious; we go again to the English shop — Manby’s — to meet Dina and the carriage, and find the Sapogenikoffs there. I am so on edge that the slightest word throws me into a rage; people ask my advice, I give it in anger, dash through the shop, and conduct myself like a madwoman. The slightest thing — someone says good day to me — and I am furious.
It takes all my strength to keep from hitting everyone.
If you think it is on account of Audiffret, you are mistaken — it is simply because of that ridiculous scene on the Promenade, and because of Godard. It was ugly, ridiculous! But wait. We drive Marie to Visconti’s; all along the road I trembled with fear that Dina would invite my Graces to the theatre. Add to that pleasure a wooden box at the back of the carriage whose corner was digging into my calf.
That is not all: passing back along the Promenade, having left Marie at her door, we see Nina and Olga on a bench — and at the very moment we pass, Audiffret goes toward them and brings that imbecile Godard to them. You can picture it! Ah — for that idiot Désiré I shall make myself ill with vexation.
I do not keep my anger inside me — on the contrary, I do not stop talking.
“You know, I am in the mood to go and slap those two women!”
“But is it their fault!” cries my aunt.
“But is that my concern! To do anything I need only want to do it. At another moment I would not slap them for a million — but just now I would do it for nothing, and with pleasure. When I feel like it I find everything permissible, everything doable, everything right. But one thing stops me: I would make a scandal of myself. Ah, if only I were married!”
“But my dear,” objects Dina, “why?”
“Why? Because then I would step out of the carriage — you see those two Russian shopwomen, I am smiling at them this very moment — well, I would step out and give each of them a slap. Ah, how splendid that would be! What a pleasant sound! But I cannot — an unmarried girl cannot do such things.”
“Wait,” I continue; “this evening we shall go to the theatre — I shall not take the Sapogenikoffs with me — and we shall see very well who comes and who does not!”
I come home exasperated, wretched — and Frédéric, that accursed dog, throws himself upon me with joy. I go up the stairs and he pursues me with his caresses; I kept my patience to the end — but once in my room I gave him such a kick that he went off howling under the bed; yet after two minutes he came back, wagging his tail and looking at me as though to beg pardon. Oh! Dogs. How can one hate them, even when one hates everything — as I do at this moment!
I dress slowly, in white as always, coiffed too as always — lightly and gracefully. Since the sleeves of the gown are rather short I put on long white gloves. I am as well-turned-out as possible.
Barnola came at once to our box, and while he was there the Surprising One made his entrance. Fortunately I was holding the opera glasses before my eyes, for I blushed deeply.
Everyone comes — even Saëtone. Pépino, that enormous telegraph pole, arrives all pink and animated. That great head imagines he can please — imagines one is occupied with him, that one speaks to him for his own sake! He irritates me and makes me laugh! He makes eyes at me! That is what I need, is it not? How stupid men are — they see nothing!
With his upturned moustache — his little moustache above his little mouth.

Notes

Monter sur mon piédestal — to rise above things; to take the high ground by reclaiming self-possession. ↩
Décollée — not Marie’s coinage: décoller is colloquial French (Littré and Larousse mark it populaire) for “to waste away, grow very thin”, hence run down. ↩
La musique — the band concert on the Promenade des Anglais; an established social occasion of the Nice winter season. ↩
Je me tiens à quatre — I restrain myself with great difficulty; literally “I hold myself with four [limbs].” ↩
Souffleter — to strike someone on the face; a formal, almost duelling term, more violent and deliberate than the common gifler. Marie uses it as a fantasy of aristocratic vengeance. ↩
Marchandes russes — Russian shopwomen; Marie’s contemptuous term for the Sapogenikoff sisters, implying nouveau riche vulgarity. ↩