Thursday, 17 January 1878

Dina and I dined at the Boyds', and then, under Mme Yorke's chaperonage, we went to Mme Brooks' soirée.
The wife is Cuban, the husband an Englishman naturalized French. Two not-bad young ladies, a fine apartment in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and splendid balls — so they say.
Against all expectation we danced this evening. It is not my place to be chaperoned by Berthe and to cause the hosts such anxiety that they are obliged to procure partners for us. That role does not suit me — especially because Berthe, who is foolish, takes me for the same, I believe, and I am sure she is asking her own partners to dance with me... The Baron d'Alt was there. I was bored. The Comte d'Andigné — blondish, square-set, walking badly, vulgar — but a great wit and enchanting to the ladies. I like fine wit, not the kind that consists of saying indecent things. I have never been in society and know nothing of it — I say this without irony.
I think the company was fairly well composed — the Boyds generally place themselves well. I was saying to M. d'Andigné, who complimented me on my waltz, that I owed it to him since he had asked me for Mme Yorke's benefit. He protested, whereupon I replied that I did not like dancing — and he could find nothing better to say than this:
— It is always pleasant to clasp a pretty waist...
— Good heavens, Monsieur — I think that is a matter of indifference; for if it were the fashion to take hold by the ears, it would be all the same to me.
Then I proceeded to mock him while confessing it to his face — and as he sometimes found himself at a loss for a reply, he and the Boyds began to have a little regard for me. I danced a great deal — how stupid. I had not the least idea how to carry myself, which made me appear determined and stiff.
I go to bed at four o'clock.