Tuesday, 5 June 1877

Savitch lunched with us.
Despite the heat, I painted; and Collignon having come, I put together a toilette consisting of a rather Directoire hat, a jacket and a blouse with a jabot and open collar, with three small tiered lapels — all that was missing was an umbrella to make me look like Robespierre or someone of that era. Just as I was leaving for the illustrious Bains Georges, I received a letter from Marcuard and Alexandre's portrait — a perfect likeness, as handsome as he. I was very pleased to show it to my aunt, and also to look at it myself: there is no longer any question of love, but I always enjoy seeing so aristocratic a face, such an elegant bearing, those dry and lustreless eyes — and above all that smile so fine and so mocking that it seems at once depraved and childlike, a strange contradiction that constitutes his principal charm.
Grand-maman's portrait is to rest for a day or two, and then we shall make the companion piece to the prince's.
We stayed a long time in the garden with Bihovetz and the Anitchkoffs. Grand-papa is so pleased at being able to see people that he perhaps exerts himself too much; he went so far as to dismiss Triphon in earnest — but Triphon pursued him all day on his knees, weeping so violently that we all took his side. Monsieur offered to pay his debts, his journey, all expenses — provided he would go — but Triphon sobbed and threatened to blow his brains out. The thing is, you see, that he is the son of Pierre Ivanovitch, who was coachman for forty years and was called Pierre Ivanovitch out of deference for his devotion and the long service of his entire family.
In all of this I have not yet looked properly at the photograph. I am going to attend to it, after sending Rosalie away — and perhaps I shall let some poetic fancy take hold of me that will make me forget the heat and the mosquitoes.

Notes

A jabot is a decorative ruffle or frill at the front of a shirt or blouse, fashionable throughout the 19th century.