Sunday, 28 January 1877

Maman has seen M. de Villemessant and it is going to be smoothed over.
In fact it is only a piece of filth so remote from us that it would be ridiculous to talk about it, if our position in Nice were different.
I go to the races in the basket carriage with Maman; Dina, my aunt, Bihovetz, Walitsky and Meyssner follow in the landau.
At once Maman, the General and I go to the grandstands, where we find five cocottes in white; fortunately their dresses, all five alike, were quite different from mine, which came from Paris this morning.
The weather is superb, and all the depravity that Nice, Monaco and Paris contain is here. Gautier gives me his arm, Maman takes the General’s, and thus protected I dare to look about me.
Gioia is dressed like a young girl, with an exquisite simplicity, all in grey cloth. The Robenson is with the inspector of dogs. Mme Vigier is in lizard: a dress verging on fancy dress, extravagant and ravishing.
Among the men one sees fine society and one or two Highnesses. Then the usual Nice crowd.
Soroka is wearing a green pince-nez to hide a black eye. Who did it?
The Prince of Witgenstein is with his vile Rosalie. My present maid bears that name; the one before had the same name as Gioia.
Maman swears that her heart has revealed to her the author of yesterday’s filth: Audiffret.
No matter who.
Angelini is not at all ugly. Rangoni stays with us a long while, for the sake of the Most Serene Ga-lu-la.
Audiffret stares at me with a persistence that could easily be mistaken for insolence. Nothing surprises me in Nice.
Bihovetz is the most agreeable of men. With him one is sure to laugh, he is so easily amused by everything. He is a great support to me today. Gautier is charming.
In the past I used to describe every race with the detail of a warlike pagan. I knew the breeding, the age, the weight carried and the name of every horse. This time I am one of the most ignorant of the uninitiated. These two years have chilled my mind and clouded it, so that I feel nothing but insults... I am sorry to say this; in a little while I shall be ashamed of it and shall want to strike it out.
An enormous, motley crowd, and not one friendly soul.
I get into the landau for the drive back, leaving the basket carriage to Maman and Meyssner.
The two carriages met on the Promenade in full view of everyone; I took my place again beside Maman and began to manoeuvre in the middle of that mad crowd.
While I was in the landau I was able to judge the effect of my carriage. There was no mistaking it: no sensible man would ever have taken that quiet, graceful, elegant turnout for a chariot of vice.
And heaven knows I looked at it with prejudice and severity.
I expected to be pointed at, so I am surprised at the good reception.
This evening, at the Hôtel de la Méditerranée, a concert by one Alma Michelini, a Russian singer under Mme Souvoroff’s patronage.
We go with Meyssner. Our entrance goes off quite well. The Princess rose most amiably, holding out her hand, and showed us to armchairs in the front row beside little Lise, and in front of her own armchair illegible, I was with Dina and the Princess
There were only three remarkable gowns, all three white: the Princess’s, Dina’s and mine.
At the end groups formed; the Princess went over to her acquaintances, we stayed apart, the audience filed past. [One line crossed out]
She lives right next door, so the guests had only to cross the street to go to supper.
I do not understand that woman. She might as well not come and talk to us and greet us and say so many things. It is absurd. Anywhere else I should be offended. But here it is the opposite that would surprise me.
With all this, with these late nights, these nights spent writing or sitting in my armchair, cold and silent, brooding over my misfortunes, with all this I have ruined my skin; I have rings under my eyes, they are swollen, my complexion is sallow, my mouth is drawn. It is not my fault.

Notes

In French in the original: panier — a light open carriage with a basket-work body, driven by its owner; a fashionable conveyance for ladies. ↩