Saturday, 16 April 1877

I am on edge. Mme and Mlle Gatowsky spend two charming hours with us and leave, kissing me and saying that I really am the happiest person in the world.
I am cheerful, but it is nerves.
Larderel and I greeted each other from our balconies. He was in white wool; I sent him a grimace and a gesture of comic admiration, after which he was [replaced] at the balustrade by his sponge.
I judged to perfection the moment he would get into his carriage and, having signalled to him to come closer:
— Be so kind as to call here at half past three.
He replied with some ordinary civility, and I went in to dress for the drive.
Out in the country we met Princess Margherita, alone with her husband, in a plain carriage with the court livery. It is the first time they have gone out like this since the incident of the two slaps. I am delighted. There is something touching about conjugal love in the very highest spheres, and in poverty.
Editors’ notenote of the Cercle edition’s editors on the manuscript
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Just as I was waiting for Larderel, Doenhoff arrived with Maman and Dina.
That is the only kind of luck I ever have.
He must have seen it from his room; he was at home.
I made a certain impression on a certain Ruspoli (a younger son, I believe) from Rome, who dined at the table d’hôte and afterwards talked with Maman in the reading room. He is the Ruspoli who was a deputy. He is a widower, he is forty, he is fat and common, and he speaks badly.
I am so on edge!
Doenhoff has just left. He is charming. But I am only at ease with Rosalie. And yet I was very agitated, unable to recall what I had prepared ten times over to say to Larderel. I have no need to rehearse my words, but what had come to me at first had been lost in all this waiting.
I have found it again.
Good night.