Sunday, 26 August 1877

With boots like mine, one absolutely needs two hours a day of rest for the feet — that is, two hours in slippers. Otherwise one is exhausted; those high heels are pretty but they tire one out, especially in this wretched country where one must always be walking.
At two o'clock we go to the Kursaal for lunch or dinner; the Liemans, a gentleman from yesterday, and M. Chemisot join us and we all remain together.
Chemisot is the descendant of some French renegade or other, but received everywhere. He found me determined-looking because my feet were tired and I wanted to leave, and no one was paying attention to my signals, which I was multiplying to make them go.
Lautrec will not leave my arm — proof that he is pleased. It seems indeed that the sensation was considerable and that all these ladies are furious. The German women have begged their German men to stop showing their astonishing admiration: "Think what you like but do not show it." They are humiliated. Lautrec, who knows everyone, collects it all and comes to report it, delighted. He is very amusing:
"You know," he says as we passed by the theatre, "the theatre was closed yesterday."
Naturally everyone asked why and how.
"Yes indeed," he says, "when all the public had left, they closed it."
He knows all the news too; this evening he came in saying:
"What a splendid funeral we are going to see! That of Field Marshal Wrangel, in Berlin."
"What, is he dead?"
"No, but when he dies."
Batourine has called on us, and in the evening we go to his wife, who is in deep mourning for her brother Bachmakoff.
I am wearing a rubberized cloth overcoat, Directoire style. In the drawing-room, playing cards, we found the Prince of Nassau — wearing the same trousers as yesterday — and Prince Repnin, a former friend of Grand-papa's forty years ago. Mme Batourine immediately swept us off to another drawing-room, saying a great many fairly well-turned things, but not thinking of introducing anyone — despite the Prince, who, as a polite man, had stepped toward us and bowed, waiting for the introductions. Finding the proceeding rude, I extinguished myself at once, and only my body remained in the drawing-room, uttering banalities and having difficulty keeping itself awake. Mme Batourine, ever amiable, invited us to return, promising a charming evening: "Only," she said, "I have no young men for these young ladies!"
"These young ladies," replied Maman, jesting, "are very serious; they talk of everything and will be very happy with the young men who are there."
She indicated the drawing-room where cards were being played.
"There are the young men," added Madame my mother, still laughing.
"Yes," said Mme Batourine, "M. Nagel" — a very old Russian.
"No," said Maman, "these gentlemen."
"Yes," repeated Mme Batourine with a certain dryness, "M. Nagel, M. Nagel."
I wonder whether this old she-devil thinks one comes to her for the pleasure of being received.
I am glad to escape and dare hope I shall not be forced to return. In that case it is better not to invite as she has done twenty times, not to make a show of friendship.
Being extinguished I am very calm; only I hope to make them pay for all this one day. [Erased: when?...if not by]