Friday, 30 March 1877

I am in an agitation perhaps stronger than yesterday — when at five o'clock Caracciolo came to fetch us for the Toledo I had not a word in my mouth. I was expecting Bijou, knowing Melissano to be with him.
From our first step into the Via Roma, Melito came to occupy the side opposite Caracciolo, and we found ourselves so neatly trapped between these two tiresome creatures to place that the others — the good ones — could only greet us in passing; which left me furious. All fashionable Naples was there; one's eyes were wearied with so much seeing. I was looking for Larderei — my black dress set me free. Tired, cross, sad, I was already turning back when Larderei took his place at my side, very adroitly pushing aside the odious Caracciolo. I was red and confused and stupid.
We were at the end of the Toledo — Maman proposed continuing on foot, and on the Via Chiaia we encounter Santasiglia, toward whom I rush as toward a beloved father; Bijou yields his place to him, and after ten different hesitations I find myself ten paces ahead with Santasiglia. Bijou gave his good arm to Madame. We take him as far as the hotel in our carriage, leaving the two men to be placed — and little Santasiglia, who is to bring us this evening M. Zunica, son of Prince Zunica.
Larderei has infinite wit, and his wit makes me feel the stupidity of those I had thought witty. I am flat, awkward, wretched.
We spend an hour at ours, and Larderei recounts that he traveled with M. and Mme Lewin and Mlle Durand the previous year, and as Dina was telling a card story concerning Lewin and his honesty at play, he related how this charming family operated — M. Lewin at cards, aided by Mme Clementina and Lucie. Very becoming.
— And you lost a hundred thousand francs or so? asked Madame my mother.
— Oh! more — a hundred and fifty thousand.
It is as though I had lost them myself.
We go to dine in the public room and he joins us at dinner, making me blush and suffer. When we had gone back down again, I took up the playing cards — he spoke of écarté and began explaining it to me, but I was so lost in confusion and must have worn such a singular expression that he said:
— But what is the matter with you, Mademoiselle? You are really in a bad humor today. No — what is wrong?
I blushed so piteously that it is shameful.
— No... I do not know — yes, I am tired... it is nothing...
It is incredible.
He went off to dine at eight in the evening, and then Altamura arrived — and Melito again! I escaped to the balcony to listen alone to a beautiful serenade and to think about Larderei and the total eclipse of my intellectual faculties. It is due in part to Maman.
She says my child, she speaks of wealthy marriages. My susceptibility is wounded at every moment — I am so desperate that I could poison myself this instant. The time it would take to find the poison would no doubt make me reconsider — but in that moment I was broken, annihilated, furious, ashamed; I wanted to die! I want to die now! Santasiglia arrived at half past ten with a Zunica excessively tall, slender, dark, young, with a monocle and an important air. It is his monocle and the shape of his features that give it to him.
It was like a change by magic. It was no longer I — I amused everyone, I said a heap of witty things, thirty-six mots, a hundred pleasantries! I sang the King of Thule aria with a fresh, strong voice and a delightful expression. Then a superb Russian romance with exquisite taste.
I do not understand what this is. It would be enough to drive mad anyone who, unlike me, has a head — good or bad! I went to beg Maman to treat Larderei as she treats the others — declaring myself desperate, unhappy — and imploring with words so vehement and true that I genuinely do not know how I dared reveal myself to that extent!
My manner with him is stupid and strange — as for him, he does not distinguish me from Dina. After everything I have thought, and everything that has been said, that is a rather hard blow.
I detest Marcuard (who paid his call today), I detest Melissano, I detest the officer, I detest all his parasites — I detest everyone who approaches him, because they are ruining him, corrupting him, and it wounds me as though it were a matter of myself.
This evening on the Toledo someone clumsy knocked his wounded arm, which he had removed from the sling — he went pale with pain, and I miraculously restrained myself from rushing toward him to ask whether he suffered greatly; I had a wild desire to do so. And later at ours he winced, caused by pain the arm still gave him — I had again to repress a movement that would have had nothing reasonable about it.
I recount these small things because nothing of the kind has ever happened to me — for myself or for anyone. When Maman screamed with her ailments I was content to go into another room — I was troubled only when she had her severe crises where there was danger. But there, for Larderei... it is more than strange, it is incredible, and when I re-read this later I shall say I lied.
Let us not try to take stock, to make a summary. I know nothing. I am not myself. If before I had such disturbances it was always, as you could see, because of some irritation, affront, etc. Here nothing has happened — nothing but pleasant things — and I am full of sadness, despair, stupidity, stupefaction. If it is the beginning of something serious — so much the better. [Word blacked out: I shall have] at least some decisive event in my wretched existence — one can always poison oneself afterward.

Notes

The King of Thule aria: Il était un roi de Thulé, from Gounod's opera Faust (1859), Act III — one of the most beloved soprano arias of the period.