Monday, 10 June 1878

I left at five minutes to eight and walked to the studio, where I took my place — which I left at eleven o'clock to go to Versailles with my aunt. There we ask for Gavini, who lets us in and comes to see whether we are well placed. I shall attach below the account of the session — [missing]
— during which I amused myself greatly. Cassagnac appeared rather surprised to see us; went to borrow a pair of opera glasses; studied us; and gave a somewhat measured bow. I made sketches of heads and affected to look at things other than the tenor — but do what one will, that fellow is the tenor and the others are choristers. I was in unbleached white; the last time I was in black. And you know I was glad to be in the vice-presidents' box, thanks to Popaul — for if I had not encountered that monster he would not have given me the tickets, and we would have been placed in the President's box; Gavini had already arranged matters with M. Grévy.
They say Cassagnac will not be decided tomorrow and will be put off until October. Gavini joins us at the station and we return together. In the carriage he introduces the Duc de Padoue — uncle of the gentle Multedo — and two others.
We chat about politics and art and then about the world of Nice under the Empire, of which a few fragments persist even now, so that I am able to give some news and appear informed about everything.
I think I was pleasant and sensible, for I seemed to be listened to with great pleasure — M. de Padoue in particular. It is good, is it not, to go and return from Versailles surrounded by Bonapartist deputies? So I am not displeased. Only, Mlle Acard's fiancé ought to have been with me nonetheless — otherwise...
What wretched luck! If I could please him... alas, if it were to be, it would have happened already!
To the end of my days I shall lament this misfortune... There is one great consolation, however — I have given him up entirely.
I am enchanted by my conversation with M. Rouher — one could not be more charming with more tact. That does not happen to me often.
Then I take a small box of round pink comfits and send it to Cassagnac via the usher, inside the building itself — troubling this great man in the exercise of his functions. The box was placed in a decent envelope with this note:
"To soften the bitterness of the situation I send you these pink pearls, whatever the proverb may say...
Your friend, as disinterested as she is eternal."
What was extremely disagreeable to me is that my friend went to visit someone in a gallery — he spoke to a gentleman — but no matter; for ten minutes I was at the height of
despair.
Then... everything passes with time.
Gavini comes to tell us it will be over in five minutes and that we must leave. They have achieved their aim, and thanks to M. Baudry d'Asson's verbosity, Cassagnac has not been decided and remains suspended until October.
We come downstairs and here is where the bad luck begins. M. Rouher was waiting for us below; the three of us take a cab and set off. What could be better? I was already imagining my glory — on the arm of the Leader of the band, conversing with the ten or twelve deputies I know?
Oh, certainly! While we are chatting about various things the cab carries us to the wrong station; we drive back at full gallop — too late — and before my very eyes the train carrying everyone off to the Gare Saint-Lazare, that blessed train, glides away!
We take another train and return via the Gare Montparnasse; there it is impossible to find a carriage. M. Rouher was preparing to escort us home, but we can only find a two-seat carriole and we part from the chief with an appointment for next 28th October. I already have my tickets.
What do you make of this fiasco? A highly respectable fiasco, yes — but do you see: the more splendid the beginning, the more odious the ending!
What a triumph I have lost! No surprise there — it is the usual thing. It started too well, and all at once... these journeys, these deputies — it was all too amusing to continue. Yes — but the ending! Ah! Wretched Cassagnac, what an opportunity I have lost to show you that you are no longer either Ticket or Protection. You are my friend reduced to your simplest expression, and if I adore you it will be for your lovely eyes.