Sunday, 28 October 1877

Schaeppi has begun my portrait. I thought such creatures did not exist.
It would never enter her head that a person she likes might wear false hair and use powder. A man who does not always tell the naked truth is an impostor, a liar, a horror. She despises him.
Yesterday she and Breslau, thinking of my anxiety — I was at luncheon — wanted to bring Pincio back to me at once, but Amélie the Spaniard and others began crying out that they were making themselves my servants because I was rich. [Word blacked out: I] questioned her at length about what people at the studio thought of me.
— "People would like you very much if you had less talent" — and then:
— "People talk of nothing but you when you are not there."
So it will always be the same everywhere. I shall never be able to pass unnoticed, or like everyone else! It is both flattering and sad.
Berthe arrived during the sitting, and then her sister Madame Yorke.
I went out very pleased with myself because I was looking pretty. But they drove me about too long. When there is no one in particular to see, I detest rolling along endlessly. One becomes stupid from it.
Then we went to Madame la Générale Doubelt's, where we found the legendary Baroness and Madame Gavini — last préfète of the Empire, at Nice. It was under her reign that the Randouins, Souvoroffs, Doubelt, Korsakoffs, etc. etc. all held sway. Doubelt is known for her kindness, and toward me she is infinitely kind. Whether I am present or not she paints me in such vivid colours that I am truly grateful to her. So many tear me apart. We were a small gathering and speaking of dresses — Madame Gavini asked me to stand so she could see mine, and Madame Doubelt, adjusting the basque of my jacket, let out a cry, and presently I was surrounded, handled, almost congratulated. No one had ever suspected that I was entirely natural... it is prodigious. Etc.
After this little social success we return home and find several cards from Marcuard-Pacha. What a pity! He had called between five and six; they had told him that around that hour we are at home, and had almost invited him to dinner.
What a misfortune too... If you only knew! No — it is very serious! Poor Marcuard! Who would ever have suspected such a thing — no, it is truly sad! Something is going to happen to him — I do not yet know what, but something extraordinary.
He has sent us flowers worth at least 300 francs!!
I try to console myself by thinking he bought them [word blacked out: at] the Hôtel Drouot, somewhere at auction at any rate... cheaply.
It was the Générale's lady companion, Mademoiselle Alexandrine, who assessed the delivery. The creature knows what's what. They have handled a great many flowers and other things at their establishment.
The Princess Souvoroff is here, but we shall not see one another. First because such rumours have been spread and such an article written in a Nice journal about her and about the affection she has for young girls, that it is absolutely impossible to see her — especially for us. And then she has not always been well-behaved. She is a madwoman who might have sat beside our Grand Duchesses and who plays at princess in gambling dens and in the company of all manner of scoundrels who have dragged her through the mud. And no wit into the bargain. With her beauty and her name she has paid men more than they have loved her for herself. It is quite incomprehensible.
In short...
Oh! but poor Marcuard... I write him these words on a sheet of paper with a black bear playing a guitar:
We expect you tomorrow Monday at dinner at six o'clock. Make yourself handsome — the young harpist will be there.
He had asked for news of this young musician the moment he arrived.
You should know that Amélie is mad about Monsieur Julian. She is a girl of twenty-five who claims to be twenty-two, who dyes her hair red, and who has a passion for painting but no talent. For all that — excellent, helpful toward everyone to an impossible degree.
One would think she was paid to wait upon everyone and keep the studio in order. But that girl is as false as Schaeppi is frank — I tell you that myself. And she is envious. She trembles when Julian or Robert-Fleury pay attention to any student. She is even jealous of me, who have barely begun and who certainly do not know as much as she does — but who unfortunately [words blacked out: has some] aptitude.
The Polish one says it is nothing but facility. She does not even have that. I — mere facility! Come now! Monsieur Robert-Fleury knows what he is about.
Besides, I am at ease — and it is rather to boast that I am telling all this.
I let Cassagnac know of our arrival by a little note in which I tell him he must not confine himself to being my brother on paper, that his letter gave me pleasure and that we hope to see him.