Monday, 1 April 1878

Berthe is mad — her Lancaster... but first let me announce some news. Alexandre is dead; it is Marcuard who has just informed me, having arrived this morning from Florence. He died as a result of a duel and has written me a letter asking my forgiveness. Let us return to Berthe, whom Lancaster treats as the fool she is. He enjoys being loved so wildly. That poor girl pursues him all the way to his home, finds him with courtesans, and then he tells her it was for his brother — and she believes him and goes to beg his pardon for having been angry with him. Then he tells her to forget him, that it must be so. She writes that it is impossible. He returns, amuses himself once more, and tells her he is truly very sorry but that he is engaged to another young lady. Then Berthe is pursued by ignoble anonymous letters in which she is called Lancaster's mistress, in which she is threatened with heaven knows what filth if she does not write to this unknown woman a letter dictated by her and signed in full. This unknown woman is one of the most reprehensible women in existence. In short, he tells her the most absurd nonsense, gives her the most childish reasons, and she explains everything, forgives everything, believes everything, and obeys.
She told me all this in the evening; I could not believe my ears, and if I had the time I would tell you to what degree of blindness, stupidity, what utter lack of pride, dignity, or sense — to what depth of idiocy — Love can bring a girl who is already English by nature.
Towards ten o'clock that poor creature, Dina, and I go out on foot accompanied by my uncle. We go to send ten April Fools to Mme Yorke, then we go up to see her — in short, a great many jokes crossing one another. We laugh almost as we did last summer in Nice.
As for Alexandre... poor fellow, you have guessed, have you not, that I have been making you an April Fool.
We telegraph the following to Marcuard, who is in Florence.