Friday, 15 September 1876 (3 September)

Having spent the night in the Prince’s bed and in the Prince’s house, I got up a little tired, and when Paul brought me little Étienne, Alexandre’s son, I did not recognise him at first.
I paid no attention to how much or how little pleasure the sight of a Babanine gave my father, and I was busying myself with the dear little boy when he came in holding Michel by the hand and introduced him to Étienne as my son? I believe the little one believed it, for he played and chatted with the little prince as with an equal, to the great amusement of us all.
At last my father has taken me to call on the notables of Poltava.
Sir, I understand you, and I am astonished not to have understood sooner the reason for this resistance to my wish to go into society. Since he has been with the Durocher woman, he has withdrawn from society, or society has withdrawn from him. I saw it plainly from the way he stressed the words “and his daughter” when giving his name to the servant.
First we went to Mme Martinoff’s. The daughter of General Ogareff, a great favourite of the Emperor, she so far lowered herself with the valet of the aforesaid Emperor that she had to be married off. The Emperor, to make amends for his valet’s misdeed, married her to a M. Martinoff, who was given a governorship.
The governor’s wife is a woman of the world, very amiable indeed, and so, for that matter, is the governor: there was a “Committee” at his house, but he came into the drawing room telling my father that no committee could keep him away when it was a question of seeing so charming a young lady. Mme Martinoff saw us out as far as the anteroom, and we set off again in search of “suitable people.”
To the vice-governor’s, to several others whose names I do not even know, to the niece of M. Abaza, the ex-millionaire, to the Directress of the Institute for Noble Maidens, to Mme Volkovitsky (Kotchoubey’s daughter) — she is very well-bred.
Then I took a cab and went to see Alexandre, who is staying here at the hotel with his wife and children. Ah, how good it is to be among one’s own! One fears neither criticism nor gossip... Perhaps my father’s family seems to me cold and spiteful among themselves by contrast with ours, which is extraordinarily close, united and loving.
Talking now of business, now of love, now of gossip, I spent two very pleasant hours, at the end of which messengers from my father began to arrive; but as I answered that I was not yet disposed to leave, he came himself, and I tormented him for another half-hour and more, dawdling, looking for pins, my handkerchief, etc., etc.
At last we left, and when, as I thought, he had calmed down a little, I said:
— We have been very impolite.
— How so?
We have called on everyone except Mme Miloradovitch, who knows Maman and knows me.
And thereupon a whole conversation, which ended with these words from my father:
People were beginning to talk; I have put it all right. Besides, even if you had designs on Gritz, this is how one must act.
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The infamous schemer! There is a Jesuit for you. And I, for an extraordinary woman, was acting quite my age, I must say.
When M. Martinoff asked me how long I would be staying with my father, I said I hoped to take him away with me.
Did you hear what the governor said when you spoke of taking me away? asked the illustrious author of my days.
What was that?
He said I would need permission from the minister, as marshal of the nobility.
Well then, ask for it quickly, so that nothing keeps us here too long.
Very well.
So you are coming with me?
Yes.
You really mean it?
Yes.
It was past eight o’clock, and the darkness of the carriage allowed me to say everything without my wretched face interfering.
Why is Mme Tutcheff not coming yet? I asked.
My father began to laugh.
— Is she afraid, I went on, that her Prince will fall in love with me?
We had to walk down the hill; within the hour we were at table.
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Notes

In Italian in the original: principino — “little prince”; here Michel (Eristoff), whom Marie’s father has just introduced to the little boy as her son. ↩
In French in the original: comme il faut. ↩