Saturday, 18 December 1875

It is Saint Nicholas’s Day — Coco’s name-day. We lunch at his house, or at Nina’s, as one pleases. These gatherings of cads strike me like a peasant wedding and leave me with a nasty feeling. At two o’clock, giddy and stupid, I escape and go walking with Dina in grey weather and an imperceptible drizzle.
Lesser, Dounin-Barkovsky, Belle-de-Jour, and Tournon were at our house.
I had almost expected a visit from the Surprising One — the Surprising One is nothing but a pig.
The Duc de Castries and Patrice de Mac-Mahon, the President’s son, are in Nice, and attended the afternoon party at the Cercle de la Méditerranée.
What is to be done? Stay in Nice another winter, or leave? Let someone decide — for it is atrocious to be suspended between heaven and earth!
Here is what I shall do: on Wednesday I shall go to the afternoon party at the Cercle de la Méditerranée, and on Thursday I shall leave for Rome. They will take me away eagerly, for Maman fears I may wish to stay on account of Audiffret — she has been having rather... dreams, besides. And then the Surprising One’s name produces an extraordinary effect on my mothers; they say it will surely bring them great grief. “I went to Capati’s,” says Maman; “he pronounced the name of Audiffret — and it was like lead on my heart.”
“And I,” says my aunt, “each time I hear that name, I feel something strange — it makes me cold.”
It is enough to frighten me in earnest, upon my honour.
I was about to lament over my grief — but it is quite useless; everyone knows I do not forget it for an instant, and that it gnaws at me night and day.
I came in at half past three. I paced my room, groaned, swore — then little by little I calmed down and exchanged a few words with Collignon, who is here with me, embroidering a cushion or some such thing. Then I have the idea of going to the Opera — it is the “A” subscription, an elegant one — and they are giving The Daughter of the Regiment; it is almost a première, for the other evening Francia’s ball prevented many from coming. La Prodgers will be at the Opera tonight, and the Pointed One with her — I shall see what the Surprising One does. I wait impatiently for Maman’s return; the bell rings; I run to the staircase — and see Dina and my Graces. I do not like to see them since the intrigues with Antonoff, and since I see that by their vile gossip they have driven Audiffret away — that all their filth falls back upon us, that there is no way of washing it off, that there will always remain a shadow over me and mine. I no longer like to see them.
“Maman — where is Maman?” I say.
“At Monaco.”
“And my aunt?”
“She too.”
“What!!!”
“If you want to go to the theatre, we can go with de Daillens.”
“Thank you, my dear — a thousand thanks!”
I feel an immense vexation, and to calm it I shut myself in for an hour and, with my eyes closed, roar softly.
I go down to dinner; I do not laugh, I do not speak, but sit almost the whole time with my eyes closed. Only towards the end does Collignon speak of putting on a play; we cast the parts, and I grow a little livelier talking about the people of Nice.
So much the better — I shall go to bed early; I shall be fresher tomorrow. Yes, but I shall miss a fine performance; I shall not see whether the Surprising One goes to the Pointed One’s box. If I wanted to go, it was for him; perhaps by seeing me often he will come to love me. As for me, the less I see him, the more he gains.
Yesterday Collignon was pitying him.
“Poor little Audiffret,” she said. “I should pity him so if he fell seriously in love with you.”
“Ah! if only he would!”
“But why? One is so unhappy when one loves and is not loved in return!”
“You ask why!”
And I told her everything, from the Villa Baquis onward, when I used to go out riding with Paul.
“Well!” I asked when I had finished. “Do you think all this is for nothing? No — I said there would be something, and there will be!”
“I only wonder,” said Collignon, “what this little girl is driving at, with her conclusions, with all her stories — what is she driving at, this ambitious little thing!”
“You know as well as I do — otherwise you would not be smiling the way you are smiling now!”
“And what good is it to you? One more feather in your cap!”
“Cap, indeed — say a crown! One more jewel in my crown — and a very pretty jewel Audiffret is! But no, he cannot love; he is a vile animal!”
“Who knows — he more than anyone. Audiffret is an excellent young man at heart, excellent, and he would be so unhappy!”
“There you go pitying him — for pity’s sake, Mademoiselle! He is a wretch who will never love. Ah! if he loved me!”
“You would not marry him!”
“Certainly not.”
“Poor little Audiffret.”
She pities him — and though I know he is not to be pitied, I feel a certain joy in imagining him wretched.
Ah! if he loved me! That is my dream.
This evening Bibi will have received the letter from London; Collignon has received hers from her brother, who sent the other one off by the same post. If he discovers that it is I who am behind this laudable correspondence, there will be nothing left for me but to hang myself. Ah, yes indeed — as if I would not deny it! I shall deny it so well — if Collignon says it was me, if Olga says it was me, I shall deny it, and deny it so well that they will believe me innocent. When one does villainous things one must be ready for anything, and not let oneself be caught like a fool; one must know how to clear oneself. So you may well imagine that in writing these ugly anonymous letters (it is very wrong to write anonymous letters) I prepared myself for everything, and I stand my ground, awaiting whatever may come.
Besides, he will never suspect me of such vile baseness. The last letter above all is scandalous.

Notes

Saint Nicholas’s Day: December 19 in the Orthodox calendar (December 6 in the Western); «Coco» is Nicolas Yourkoff, Nina Sapogenikoff’s companion, celebrating his name-day. ↩
Patrice de Mac-Mahon: son of Patrice de Mac-Mahon, Marshal of France and President of the Republic (1873–1879); his presence at a Nice social event would be noted as a mark of distinction. ↩
Eagerly (avec empressement): Maman and the aunt wish to remove Marie from Nice — and from proximity to Audiffret — as quickly as possible. ↩
Capati: a fortune-teller or clairvoyant consulted by Maman; his mention of Audiffret by name has alarmed her. ↩
The “A” subscription (la lettre A): opera subscriptions at Nice were alphabetically designated; “A” was the most prestigious tier. ↩
Donizetti’s opera (1840). ↩
In Italian in the original: mille grazie ! ↩