Wednesday, 19 July 1876

But let us not forget to say that this evening we went to the Opéra. They were performing Faust. Mme de Mouzay was with us, for we had a fine front box in the first tier.
My outfit was charming and rather unusual. It was a batiste chemisette, gathered at the neck like a peasant woman’s blouse, perfectly plain — so that the drawstring channel appears, as it were, naturally. Wide Russian sleeves, also in batiste, to the elbow. A bodice cut low in a heart shape both front and back, long enough to form a slight point front and back — not quite a point, simply a bodice longer than the waist, which allows it to trace the beginning of the hips. An embroidery on cream foulard silk applied to the bodice, which is likewise in foulard as is the skirt, straight and gathered front and back; the skirt is sewn to the bodice as in old-fashioned dresses. When one walks, the train is raised over the left arm, and by this motion one reveals an underskirt, in foulard like the dress, but short and trimmed with the same embroidery and a wide, yellowed Valenciennes lace. No jewels. Hair dressed in the antique style, cream kid shoes, pink stockings. White silk mittens to the elbow, with cream bows.
But I might as well not have dressed at all. The house is deplorably lit — one cannot make out either the outfits or the faces. Without Mouzay, who was talking all the while, I should have fallen asleep from boredom. The singing is mediocre, Marguerite tolerable, Faust dreadful. Each time I see this opera — the third act especially — I cannot help finding supremely ridiculous the line: Hail, pure and chaste abode! uttered by a man who one hour later defiles that dwelling from cellar to attic. I must read Goethe’s Faust — perhaps there the hero’s conduct is given some motivation, for in the opera it is so ignoble as to become incomprehensible.
Say what I will, all that is vile and cowardly is and always will be incomprehensible to me.
It was very warm, and during an interval I went out with de Mouzay. The auditorium is as dark and ugly, for all its gilding, as the entrance, the staircases, the galleries and the foyer are superb. It calls to mind descriptions of the palaces of the Caesars — marble, gilding, sculpture! The balustrades are in onyx. I leaned against these balustrades, standing with de Mouzay on one of those balconies that seem made to set off a woman’s beauty. I expected no effect at all — the darkness of the house had given me the idea that I was plain and badly dressed and that no one was looking at me. But in full light I felt myself come alive again, and my eyes took on some brilliance as the crowd parted to make way for us. I was absorbed by the matchless spectacle offered by those staircases and balconies filled with people, when Mme de Mouzay nudged me.
“Turn around,” she said to me.
I turned round and saw a crowd gathered in the corridor in front of the balcony door, as though before a carriage accident.
“Really,” I said to the Countess, “they are even more foolish here than in Rome.”
And as I always feel a little ill at ease in Paris, I took her arm and we returned to our box, which was fortunately just nearby.
The Countess was radiant with pride, and while the fourth act began she kissed my hand and said the most affectionate things to me. Which makes me cry out: he who has the will lacks the power!
Then there was talk of the Cardinal in his madhouse, and Mme de Mouzay, in her contentment, absolutely insisted on seeing the Cardinal as Mephistopheles, me as Marguerite… before the grey dress, and Pierre as Faust.
This woman turns my head by telling me that I could have exerted whatever influence I wished over the great Cardinal’s mind.
But I missed my exit — Chocolat was waiting at the main entrance and we came out by another door.
“Ah! I missed my exit,” I said as I got into the carriage.
“Not at all, my dear,” said the Countess, “you have been looked at quite enough as it is.”

Notes

Foulard: a lightweight printed silk fabric. ↩
Valenciennes lace: fine bobbin lace originally made in Valenciennes, northern France. ↩
Onyx balustrades: the Palais Garnier, opened in 1875, was famed for its grand staircase of onyx and marble. ↩