Friday, 6 April 1877

Maman says she enjoyed herself madly at Sorrento. I say nothing, because these last two days have only this moment been written, and because something has just happened to me, or rather I have just done...
I woke up half mad.
The King arrived yesterday, and this morning at ten o’clock he came to pay a visit to the Prince of Prussia. Forewarned by Doenhoff, I placed myself on the staircase, and when he was face to face with me I said:
— Two words, Sire, I beg you.
— What is it you wish?
— Absolutely nothing, Sire, except to be able to boast all my life of having spoken to the most amiable and the best King in the world.
— You are very kind, thank you very much
— That was absolutely all, Sire.
— You are very kind, thank you very much.
And he pressed my left hand between both of his.
A circumstance in consequence of which I am keeping my gloves on for a week. It is because of the gloves that I am writing as you see. I shall have superb nails in a week
What do you think of me?
I was not too frightened. Do you know what drove me to this extravagance? Bijou. “If you do that, you will have everything.” And I did it.
But all that is nothing.
It is Doenhoff who comes and tells us a heap of frightening things. It might be put in the newspapers; it might be given a scandalous interpretation.
King Victor is not like other kings. He asked what I wanted, whether it was a petition. I am horrified behind my door.
In doing what I did, I had foreseen everything except myself. For another girl this extravagance would have brought a host of charms and pleasures; for me it can bring nothing but shame. I am doomed to misfortune.
Doenhoff has come back from the palace, where the prince went to return the King’s visit. The King’s aide-de-camp said: What an odd way this lady has of placing her daughters in the King’s path like that. And the Prince of Prussia told the King that young girls in Russia are wildly enthusiastic about the royal family, that they do mad things for the Emperor, and that it is as pure as the angels in heaven. Thank you, pork-butcher!
Doenhoff said a great many things. In the end he came to reassure us.
After a mad agitation, stupor and terror, I am beginning to come to myself. Never in my life have I been so frightened. I could have died on the spot. In one hour I have lived two years.
How happy everyone is not to have spoken to the King!! People are out walking; Princess Margherita and Humbert have arrived. The pork-butcher is there opposite our windows with Doenhoff and some of the King’s gentlemen. The ladies are showing off their gowns, the liveries are almost gala; the Chiaia has been watered.
This filthy, perverted world! To suppose, to invent such horrors! (I have taken off the gloves.) I am going to be slandered — the madwoman of the town, covered in mud and ridicule!
Melissano has been to see us. That monkey insists that I like Larderel, and I pull “Alexandre” to pieces in front of him in the most outrageous fashion, which naturally gives him more than suspicions. What does it matter to me? Do I hide the fact that I like him?
One of the gentlemen introduced yesterday has called; he is a son of the Princess of Piedimonte, François Porcinari.
I went out before four o’clock, and from a distance we saw Larderel and Melissano, who took off their hats with absurd exaggeration.
Now I dare not go out! And tomorrow the races! The King will be there, the princes! Do you think the general will not tell the story of what happened to the King! Doenhoff has begged for silence, saying that those who saw it would say nothing. But that would be too merciful.
I really do not know where I am going, where I am leading myself!
I did warn you that I would commit enormities with the greatest naturalness.
Ah! how happy everyone is not to have spoken to the King! He leaves on Monday, but the princes are staying! Ah! Lord, what am I coming to!!
What depravity, what blackness!!!
Yesterday Marcuard talked about Demidoff’s riches, which made Larderel look much smaller.
My aunt writes that one would have to be mad to think of Larderel:
“If Marie wants to please her monster, let her go to bed early. Late nights make her hideous. But is it possible that she is thinking of that horror! He is ugly, I have seen him! I am told that he has not a penny, that he does not even pay his gambling debts, that he is depraved, a lost man. Do you really think that if she truly pleased him, he would go on with his bad life, his late nights, his cards, his orgies! Even Lewin mended his ways when he thought of marrying Clémentine.
If this monster were really loved by Marie, it would be worse than a misfortune! Good heavens, and it is for that bliss that you have stayed so long in Naples! Come back. Larderel does not love her!”
Ah! dear aunt, you are a thousand times right. But I have not the strength to leave.
Larderel does not love me, that is quite certain. But there is no disappointment, no misfortune, no affront in this world that could astonish me! My life is woven of them. God’s will be done, since mine can do nothing. Mine brings me nothing but cares!
Larderel does not love me.
I have noticed it well enough.
The episode of the King was only a finishing touch. It was needed to round off my misery.
When one loves, one does not get tipsy, one does not talk like that, one does not lose one’s nights in gambling dens, one does not sleep through the day, all the more so as...
I could bite my fingers off for not having said something I know, when on the way back from Massa he was telling me that he loved me and offering me every proof I might want, wholeheartedly. And, brute and idiot that I am, instead of what I should have said, I said:
— I do not believe you; I have no need of your proofs; people generally give them only to prove lies!
No, why live when everything goes wrong or back to front!
My first idea after Doenhoff’s visit was to send Bijou to the Aquarium and confide my distress to him.
Reflection is a good thing.
The King has just gone by! Ah! Lord in heaven! If Doenhoff had not said all that, I would have been delighted.
“Our happiness lies in wretched ignorance,” said a Russian poet.
Ah! how true that is.
Ah! now I remember Bijou bringing back one of Melissano’s slippers, in green and gold velvet, on the end of his cane! It was comical, our excursion.
Ah! And my dream at Sorrento! I was up to my neck in mud. It could not come to nothing. Oh! dreams, oh! follies, presentiments!
Larderel does not love me. Very well. I am going to Paris in a week. And there we die.
While we were dining upstairs, he came; Dina told him goodness knows what; he asked us to come to the Skating this evening... said he has bought a horse, and I don’t know what else!
I will not give in to his whims; I shall not go. He sends word that if we are not there at ten o’clock he will come back here.
At half past ten Marcuard arrives, and after an hour or so, quite simply and without the least malice, he says this among other things:
— Alexandre is at this moment paying court to Mme de Piccolelis at the Skating.
They were bringing me something to eat!!! Eat! I cannot, I will not hide the effect Marcuard’s remark has on me.
So he stays at the Skating with a hussy instead of... Ah! yes, I was forgetting that he did not love me.
— Ah! Monsieur de Marcuard, I said then, I have a mind to tell you everything!
Instead I write the following letter:
Copied letterLettre de Marie à Larderel (brouillon non envoyé), 6 avril 1877
Thank you for inviting me to the Skating to see you with new hussies. You do not deserve to be looked at by a respectable woman! Your element is gambling dens and women for hire. If only you would at least wait until you are fifty to play so wretched a part!
Poor me! If this is what all my torment was to come to... Well, no! I replace this letter with these words:
Copied letterBillet de Marie à Larderel, 6 avril 1877
“At nine o’clock at the Aquarium; I need to speak to you.”
To make you understand everything, I will tell you that I am not sure he will come.

Notes

Bijou (“jewel”): Marie’s private codename for Count Larderel. ↩
Charcutier (“pork-butcher”): Marie’s contemptuous nickname for the Germans of Doenhoff’s party — here the Prince of Prussia himself. ↩