Saturday, 6 November 1875 (continued)

in the margin
Pépino, whom I call a brute, was one of the handsomest young men in the world.
His great black eyes — oh, what a brute!
The piece being given is a grand drama in three scenes — I had time to wait, therefore, and I waited while appearing to be very much occupied with the enormous Gautier, whom I should like to thrash!
I am cheerful; I had feared a general defection — but since they have all come, I am content. I was so afraid!
Yes — all of them, except the Surprising One. But I am not furious.
So long as the others come. He is never like the others: when he is interested he comes at every moment — but the instant another idea enters his head he simply abandons the whole thing and is occupied with nothing further. Last winter it was la Prodgers’s mother-in-law, and every day one saw his carriage before no. 17; a little later it was Mlle Bueno, whom he abandoned — and who went off consoling herself with Pépino, just like me. Then in spring came my turn. It is vexing all the same to think that we are wretched passive creatures whom one takes and discards at will.
written across the page
I am too much of a child! At the least sign of him speaking to someone, I imagine things — and then there I am, abandoned flat. Silly goose!
The man does not stir from his box; with his head thrown back on the armchair he appears to be prodigiously bored.
“He does it on purpose,” says my aunt; “he very much wants to come, and he is bored — but he will not come. And he wants to very much, for I have caught him watching us from behind Roissard, observing everything that goes on here.”
“Again!” I say. “Always ‘on purpose!’ Come, Madame — you are being foolish!”
This, of course, is not said before everyone.
“Come along,” says my aunt to me, at the exit.
“Yes, Madame — permit me only to gather up my skirt” — and I leaned down so that in rising I might more easily meet the eyes of the Surprising One whom I sensed nearby; and indeed, lifting my head, I found myself face to face with the man, who bows to me with cold gravity...
I say good evening to him, smiling.
Maman, barely home from Monaco, is not yet asleep, and we go to her to tell her everything.
“But,” she says, “people have told me a hundred times — he is like that. Even Ambroise said to me: ‘Madame, Monsieur Emile pays court to every young lady — he does not miss a single one.’”
“Yes, yes, Madame,” I answer, laughing; “I know it — just like last winter with Bueno, who consoled herself with Pépino — like me.”
I go to bed at one o’clock, calm and reassured. So long as the others come — and as for him, well: let us be resigned.

Notes

Plantée-là — left standing there, abandoned flat; the image of being left in place like a planted post. ↩
Serine, va! — silly goose! The feminine of serin (canary), used as a mild term for a simpleton. ↩
Ambroise — evidently a servant known to the household; his gossip confirms what everyone in Nice already says of Audiffret. ↩