Tuesday, 2 July 1878

I call at the Gavinis', where I encounter the princess, the mother of the duc de Rivoli whom one sees everywhere and in Nice, and the duchesse de Valence. I am very good. Then the Gavinis, my aunt, and I go to the Exposition.
Monsieur Gavini wishes to marry me to Multedo. I don't care in the least.
This evening Madame Doubelt's Alexandrine comes — she is here to pay the bills.
I know that Madame Doubelt is very fond of me — which is why I write her the letter I invite you to ponder:
[Tuesday 2 July 1878] Dear Madame,
You have always been so charming to me that I do not hesitate to come and ask a small favour which will cost you nothing but a few good words and which will give me the greatest and most sincere pleasure. Here is what it concerns.
One of our best friends — almost a brother to me — Monsieur Paul de Cassagnac, whom you know at least by name, has been married these last few days to a most distinguished young lady. I should like, on the occasion of this marriage, to do him some small service. You know that in his journal, which is very widely read at present, as well as in the National Assembly, Monsieur de Cassagnac has always [Crossed out: against all comers] warmly defended the Russian Government and our Emperor, so brutally attacked by the republican newspapers.
You will recall also that following a particularly violent attack on Emperor Alexander, Monsieur de Cassagnac called the Government to account at Versailles and [Crossed out: on another occasion] had two duels — always on account of pamphlets directed against the Emperor — in consequence of which Prince Orloff and the entire embassy left their cards at Monsieur de Cassagnac's [Crossed out: to thank him]. Well, decorations have been freely distributed in Paris and Monsieur de Cassagnac has been overlooked — victim, no doubt, of some intrigue, for it is impossible to explain otherwise this omission, which amounts to an injustice.
If you were good and kind to me, dear Madame, you could say a few words in the right quarter, and an Order of Saint Stanislas at least would repair an [Crossed out: an influential man and repair] oversight that is almost an affront, and reward an influential man who would appreciate it all the more in that Russia is almost the only country that has not honoured him, and after all a Russian decoration is very much more agreeable than the Lion and Sun of the Shah of Persia with which he was lately decorated.
Mademoiselle Alexandrine called on us this evening and we have entrusted her... etc., etc., and — a thousand kind things which I add in conclusion.
I should like to send him the Saint Stanislas with my visiting card. Dina assures me I am simply a fool to keep treating him as something fine — that he will accept the decoration and feel nothing. And that if I sent him twenty thousand francs he would pocket them and not even take the trouble to thank me.
I believe she is right about the twenty thousand francs — but I believe nonetheless that the decoration will have its effect, and that it is one of the good means of giving him regrets that will repay mine.
The Deceased is here — he writes sensible articles in Le Pays. Had he been less of a fool, had I been less mad... together we should have astonished Europe, and now... He has seriously diminished in my eyes; I am glad of it, but tormented in thinking that whatever the case may be now, it would be superb if things were otherwise...
[Written across the page: I am sorry about it as much for him as for myself.]
I reread the notice in the Figaro and cannot believe my eyes. I cannot take in this end, as I could not take in the death of Walitsky.
We return from the Orangerie, where the Moscow Gypsy singers are performing.