Thursday, 16 December 1875

Maman encountered Mme de Lewin yesterday, who spoke to her of my marriage with the Surprising One.
"But why do you conceal it, Madame?" she said. "Everyone knows it — they wrote to me about it in Sweden."
See to what extent one can believe what one says.
I drive in an open carriage with Giro; behind us come Dina and Marie; and Maman and my aunt follow in the landau.
I am very gay; there is a great crowd; Audiffret is encountered several times.
Loftus was with Leech, of whom I become very jealous. Loftus is not a man — he is a demi-god. I have never seen a complexion like his. He recalls Hamilton; I adore him.
This evening the première of La figlia del reggimento.
I expect to see the Pointed One and everyone — for we have taken the only free box, which is No. 2, next to the Surprising One's.
À propos of the Pointed One — I saw her on horseback; she seemed beautiful to me; I let the reins go slack and nearly wept. Olga shook me — otherwise I should have driven into a blue coupé.
Expecting to see that girl at the Opera, I dress in the complete opposite of what I suppose she will wear.
White barège, upswept and simple coiffure.
We arrive after the first act.
There are only foreigners and men — for this evening Mme Francia is giving a grand soirée.
I exchange a bow with Audiffret and M. the Comte de Tournon. Simiane, who is with him, bows to me also — but let me explain. This gentleman was introduced to Maman some two years ago when she went to balls. He was deeply in love with the fair-haired little Nathalie Galitzine; he followed her to Russia, where she died in his arms a few months ago — but that is merely a detail.
This Comte de Tournon — I have never known him. Five or six days ago I saw him on the Promenade; he looked at me greatly; I paid no attention, being accustomed to being looked at — and my white dress explains everyone's looks.
The following day the same — and he seemed to be asking who I am.
Finally — the day before yesterday, I believe — he saw me with Maman and bowed, recognising her. Since then he bows to me — what can I do but bow in return? This is merely an explanation; let us come to this evening.
"Well done!" says Audiffret. "This is the box you should always be in — it is good here."
"Bah! And would that please you? I do not think so."
"Oh! Mademoiselle — you do not say what you think!"
"I always say what I think."
"Oh! no," says de Tournon. "If you did, you would be neither woman nor Russian."
And the conversation begins. Tournon is not handsome — but perfectly correct, distinguished, and charming.
He says so many flattering things that there would be enough to fill a sack. The blasted Nice men have not accustomed me to such ways, and I blushed several times. But it does no harm.
I began to ogle someone opposite — and I felt Audiffret nudging Tournon while looking at me.
"What do you do, Mademoiselle," he says, "to have such small ears?"
"But — nothing," I say, blushing. "Is it the first time you have seen them?"
"No — but truly — is it not so, Tournon?"
And both of them go into raptures over my ears — their shape, their colour, their smallness.
Is it Bibi speaking? I am quite astonished at these two amiable phrases, and at the two other things that are to follow. Truly — he benefits from having spat on me: when he is polite I feel it all the more.

Notes

La figlia del reggimento (The Daughter of the Regiment): opera by Donizetti (1840).
barège: a light wool fabric from Barèges, France — fashionable for evening wear.