Tuesday, 2 May 1876

He told me all about his confinement in the monastery. The superior, having been warned that he was receiving the most dissolute and most recalcitrant of sons, was quite astonished to see a man who always said yes — to such a degree that the following day he sent word to Count Antonelli that he had no doubt made a mistake and had sent him someone other than the person announced.
- And how I was banging the shutters, he told me — to attract your attention, but you were looking elsewhere. I was at the very top of the tower, at a large window.
I am bored — I am going to look and see how I spent my time since the first of May last year.
Well! Audiffret was absent and my Graces and I were bored.
I must draw up the regulations of our society and send the summonses to Altamura, to Plowden, and to Antonelli.
I must go out and fetch Giro. Ah! what a charming girl! We drank champagne at dinner on the occasion of Maman’s birthday, and after drinking at the table, Giro and I, filling two bowls, went to the basin — and after making an invocation to the fountain and both expressing the same wish, we drank our wine and threw the glasses into the water. Then gay and a little giddy we went up to my room and began dancing — I in an angel dress with a silver heart suspended at my neck like a saint’s medallion.
One does not take to Giro at first sight — she seems reserved, even false — and one feels drawn towards her sister, who is all fat and inclined to rather bad habits, I fear, but expansive, serious, and who makes a profession of kindness.
I am very fond of Olga, whatever may be said — and though I know very well that no one in this world deserves to be loved. One loves men because it gives one pleasure; as for women, they bring nothing and are false, envious, and spiteful towards their companions. Thus I love Olga in my fashion — she amuses me, she does mad things with me — and that is quite enough.
Until now I did not know how to manage confidences. One leads them on, my dear friends, by means of confidences in return. I read some pages of my journal to Giro, and she became ten times more confiding. She ended by coming to spit in the face of my caricature of Audiffret.
Never in my life have I laughed or shall I laugh as I do with her. She and her mother are my favourites in the family. Nina is charming and honest to the point of excess, in her own way. She was open about Yourkoff; she could have done as others do and then nobody would accuse her — for her husband has a frightful illness that covers him all over with sores; he is rotten, in a word.
What a pity they are leaving on Sunday. Nothing keeps them any longer. Nina’s position is dreadful. Just think — to plunge into a whole world of her husband’s relations who will have for her nothing but reproaches and offences, and to have herself not a single friendly or close soul!
With God’s help we shall meet again, I hope.
When Giro and Varpahowsky leave, we speak of Larderel and Antonelli. There are all sorts of omens presaging a connection. By the way! You know that this rascal of a Pole, this Count-Cardinal Ledochowski, is upsetting the whole Vatican, which is feverish about resurrecting miserable, savage Poland.
The poor Signor zio Antonelli is very ill indeed, and I fear he may die forgotten and replaced by this damned Pole — the devil take him!
There, then, is what love is worth! I am forgotten after five days. He does not write to me, and I am anxious about every hour when the post arrives.
Now I am sensible — but an hour ago the fumes of the wine had made me love and regret Pietro, that young pup whom I had taken for a man! Why did I not love Bruschetti? He is very rich and we could have made a stir together. He could have obtained a court appointment and I would have pushed him far, very far. I love no one — but I have much goodwill for Pietro. I was very happy during these last days in Rome to see him walking about with steady people, becoming serious, ambitious, sensible. All of that for my sake, he told me. Ah! how happy I should be if I could believe it!
He resembles me greatly in character. The cardinal alone holds him back — without that he would spring towards the court, towards the sun. With time he will hold there a rank very worthy of me. He has everything needed to succeed, especially when he is rich.
Galula has asked permission to introduce a certain M. Rivaud, sub-prefect somewhere.
Let us come back to Pietro. What else did I have to say... let me see? I no longer know, but I am uneasy. He has forgotten me. Is it possible, so soon! It has never yet occurred to me that, forgetting me, he may be paying court to another woman. And when that does occur to me I shall be very unhappy.
I opened this book at random to find out whether he is thinking of me, and I read: “silent, lasted so long”.
He has quite reformed and lives on very good terms with his parents. On the last day, when we kept him to dinner, he wrote to his mother to let her know and showed me the letter. He hid nothing from me, not even the smallest things which, in the eyes of a young man of twenty-three, are humiliations and prove that he is still a child. Had he kept them to himself he would be more imposing, but no, he came and told me everything, past as well as present, even rather risqué things — everything, in short. It is very sweet of him. Perhaps he is wrong, for because of this complete confidence I do not respect him as I do Torlonia, who never shows himself except on stilts. It is almost a pity to say of a man: he is very sweet; and I should like to fear the man whom... whom I love, instead of finding him very sweet.
Besides, I love only the Duke of Hamilton, and he alone inspires in me love, confidence and terror. If Antonelli became independent, extravagant, rich, disdainful, he would inspire the same in me, even if he came and prostrated himself at my feet and told me that he loved me. There is pleasure in taming a lion. Alone at home, I think of him and long to see him.

Notes

Marie’s name for her circle of girl companions, after the Three Graces of antiquity. ↩
Mieczysław Ledóchowski (1822–1902), Polish Cardinal and fierce opponent of Bismarck’s Kulturkampf. ↩
Signor zio — Italian, “Mr Uncle”; Marie’s affectionate/ironic nickname for Cardinal Antonelli. ↩