Saturday, 24 March 1877

Since this morning
I lay in bed a long time, trying to sleep so as to be woken by a letter. But no — nothing arrives except a box from Worth, then Nasimoff, and finally the Duc de Melito. We received only Nasimoff, because Maman is ill.
I go into town with Dina. Young Pignatelli is beginning to look at me seriously. But it is Melissano who is the most ardent.
At last I sink back into a kind of melancholy, from which Rosalie — who brings this letter — comes to rouse me, only to put me into a kind of anger.
The letter seems impertinent to me and I am flushed with vexation.
To make me wait until Wednesday — it is shameful!
I am quite upset. I go over in my mind everything I have done and said; it seems to me I have bored that detestable Violet.
I look as though I have received an affront, the devil knows why.
Maman seems vexed by this sheet. Everyone at home is detestable!
I cannot bear it, and seizing a scrap of old envelope I write on it:
— “Oh! what a nasty scrap of paper!
A little nastier than yours.”
And putting it in an enormous envelope, I go down to the office in person to stick two stamps on it and drop it in the box.
Would one believe it? I am seriously offended, and this letter makes all the little endearments I used to say every day in jest die on my lips.

Notes

Worth: the celebrated Paris couturier Charles Frederick Worth (1825–1895), whose house dressed the elite of Europe. ↩