Thursday, 9 August 1877

I measured Hall to the centimetre, and it is incredible, but she is only taller and broader in the waist. The shoulders are the same, the neck too, the hips less round, the calves less thick, the foot larger than mine.
I am almost sorry to have made her acquaintance — she drinks, and Rosalie tells me that the servants of the house keep repeating the count of the bottles to one another. Without my infatuation I should have understood that a letter from her was not very precious...
She does not get drunk, but she drinks so much!... and as she maintains the proprieties, I would say nothing of it if we were elsewhere. But in this miserable boarding house... this baroness who has herself walked out, taken to shows, offered suppers by this poor girl, and then goes and says horrors about her while telling nothing but the truth, alas!
She must say fine things about me too. All my eccentricities and all my jokes, told in earnest, would not make a very good impression.
In the end... that is what happens when one listens to others. You remember (here I close my eyes and clench my teeth with rage) Antonelli's first kiss... incidentally! the cardinal left only forty millions and not eighty as I thought — make the appropriate deductions. So, why had I sullied my lips? Because my mother had advised me to tell him I loved him. "It will commit you to nothing," she said. "My mother's words were still in my ears..." I wrote that same evening. And so it is in everything!
Rémy came twice today, and as I cannot help treating him like a child, he gave us to understand that he was going to Bougival, to La Grenouillère (words one ends up writing through force of living in France!) and to Mabille, and that he even knew some cocottes... he only became younger still to me for it.
No, look — if he were seriously going to have a passion for me... that would be stupid.
Mabille, La Grenouillère! There are words that have grazed my pen raw! I should never have to write such vulgarity if I were in Italy, where one dances nothing but tarantellas — and that in the mausoleums and amid the pagan ruins. [Two words crossed out]
I surround myself with books that speak of Italy and am in a perpetual fever.

Notes

La Grenouillère: a famous bathing and dancing establishment on the Seine at Bougival, immortalized by Renoir and Monet in their 1869 paintings.
Bal Mabille: a notorious open-air dance hall on the Champs-Élysées, celebrated for its courtesans and cancan dancing; closed in 1884.