Sunday, 30 September 1877

How happy Giselle and Balsorano must be.
I have changed back into white. A dress of very thick ribbed cloth, of a very deep white, perfectly plain — and the marvellous thing is that Worth has made me a bodice that fits absolutely close, with absolutely no darts and no seams at the shoulders. It buttons down the front and is drawn in just at the middle by a ribbon at the chest, forming three pleats on each side. And it is so simple and so natural that I wonder how I could ever have worn anything else. All my dresses will be made thus, and I name this bodice Violette.
That excellent Torlonia meets us on the steps. He says that Melissano's American woman is a chimera. He asks permission to call on us and I tell him we have taken an apartment at 71 Champs-Élysées, first floor. Which is true.
We go to the races, where we see again the black beard and his friend. They do not leave my side. In the lift and everywhere. From morning until evening.
I am in white and do not dine at the table d'hôte.
Soria bids me farewell — darkly enough, upon my word; he has a sad air. One would say a woman had deceived him; perhaps he simply has a headache.

Notes

Charles Frederick Worth (1825–1895), the celebrated Paris couturier, founder of haute couture.