Friday, 7 June 1878

Charity kermesse in the Orangerie garden, given by the grandest ladies in Paris. We attend, elegantly turned out, thank God. To have been what I was among all those ladies — that is a point in my favour, I assure you.
The tickets do not come!
I was promenading in the Bois (we have our huit-ressorts) in the grip of cruel anxieties... What then? A landau passes with a lady who bows to us. Mme Gavini. M. Gavini was prefect of the Alpes-Maritimes under the Empire, a deputy now. We had met her once at the Doubelt's.
At the Orangerie, Blanc came to speak to us — rather cold and very altered in his manner. It is a strange thing.
Rosalie could not get any tickets — it is a real fury for this session.
Maman had not yet paid a call on Mme Gavini. No matter — at half past seven I go there myself; but as she was at table with company I leave word for nine o'clock. At nine I arrive and explain the purpose in a manner as persuasive as it is incoherent. I am received with open arms. There are three assorted deputies present who, watching me heap upon them cajoleries, entreaties, jokes, and grand phrases à la Popaul, take a lively interest in my fate. M. Gavini, to whom I am presented, says that only yesterday it was still possible. Yes — yesterday I was counting on the others!... Wretches.
In short everyone is ready to help me, and Gavini advises me to come to Versailles — he promises nothing but will do the impossible to get me in. That wretch Blanc, whom I abominate with my whole soul for his vile character and his false, cowardly morals — Blanc has done me a pretty ill turn with Cassagnac.
I should like to know what Mme Gavini's social standing is, for... you know, eight or fifteen days ago I was thinking of her. How things turn out. She was so kind that I fear she may be — improper...
She considers us as old friends from Nice.
In any case Rosalie will be at the distribution of the twenty-five tickets for the public gallery, and if there is any way I shall go there in grey hair and spectacles. They say the Cassagnac question may not come up until Tuesday. That would be superb. With all this we abandoned poor Yorke, whom we were to take to the Orangerie that evening. We merely entered and left at ten o'clock. On the way out, Marcuard. I reproach him for his negligence and laugh as usual.
Besides, all of this — with this Versailles business...
Do you know what Cassagnac really is? Do you want my true, sincere opinion of him — as with politics the other day? Here it is. Paul de Cassagnac is an enormous buffoon in general and a scoundrel in particular. With me he has been simply boorish. I shall not forget it. But his session will be magnificent — he is virtually the leader of the Empire's buffoons, and the honour of upholding that honourable cause falls to him. To tell you the truth I am beginning to feel a certain aversion for the magnificent mulatto; let him not be in love — very well — but let him at least be polite. The negligences of others — that comes and goes and comes back; it is the same with everyone, with princesses as with me. But Cassagnac is a friend — a brother... I know perfectly well it is a joke, but what does that matter? One asks nothing serious, but even in a joke there are certain regards one cannot dispense with. So all my admiration for the Newfoundland dog is done for, and I would be vexed if I found myself esteeming him again.
If I could find my way into Bonapartist society — while despising it — am I truly sure I despise it? I may prefer the Republic in the depths of my soul, but what is the Empire to me? I shall belong to whichever party serves me best. I do no wrong, since this harms no one; I commit no act of cowardice, being a foreigner and personally counting for nothing.
Let Cassagnac marry twenty-three times if it pleases him.
I have no more pleasure in speaking of him. He is not what I thought... That is to say, he is like me — uneven and fantastical in the extreme! As he pleases. The fault is mine — I had only to please him and he would have been at my feet. I do not wish to complain of him; it is detestable to rank oneself among the offended. Only, for a moment I thought I would concern myself greatly with him. A profound error! Thank God I am no longer at the stage of adoring people who do not adore me. So long as that creature does not rise too high again, I shall find myself regretting his friendship once more.