Sunday, 4 August 1878

I arrive at table quite flustered, having promised myself to be perfectly calm. The prince passes me the vinegar and blushes; I blush too. I seize on a pretext and pretend to sulk at my family for fun, I swear not to say another word — and every moment some piece of nonsense escapes me that would make even deaf-mutes laugh.
I play with my brooch, pass it to Madame Rembelinsky who passes it back — naturally they see this. Then I take out my notebook, which has no pencil in it — I had not taken it out on purpose, I assure you; in short, a perfect opportunity to lend me a pencil. He does absolutely nothing. I drop my keys and pick them up myself. It could not be more delightful. Then the prince takes his pencil and begins to draw on the menu. Bravo.
As I get up I drop the notebook, the handkerchief, and the keys I had forgotten on my lap. It is the waiter who picks everything up. Now that I have done my duty... It is a duty one must never fail in towards oneself: to make as sure as one can of anything at all that leaves some doubt. So now that I have done my duty, a duty imposed on me by some stupidity of Rosalie’s, I can become disdainful and calm again, as before.
But would you believe it — I am so mad — the presence of this poor wretch threw me into a ridiculous flutter today. After this dinner I go off for more than two hours to wander in the woods, and since I am quite alone there, I close my eyes and invent encounters, conversations, each more amusing than the last...
Monsieur and Madame Coubé are of the Dourassoff breed, but everyone jokes about the princes, so one can still laugh.
Auguste is visibly declining — he arrived handsome; now he is ugly, he is ill-tempered. One knows his ring at once — you should hear him speak to the waiters and to his poor Gans, who is a charming brother. I believe they will soon bury him.
Baron Schenk (yesterday’s) is the highest official in the region, governor or something of the sort... I do not know exactly. Prince Ouroussoff knows him; the baron kept telling him that the position he held so young was really too great an honour, one he does not believe he has deserved and which he owes to the Emperor’s kindness. But this is only the preface. This baron is in love with a young lady, and it was to make her acquaintance that he organised yesterday’s ball... but as he had been told in these parts that this girl was loved by another young man, he went to find this gentleman and, with the frankness the circumstance called for, begged him to tell him the truth, and, if it was only a bit of Soden gossip, if he did not love the young lady, to confess to him leave to present himself... but if on the contrary it was true, to confess it to him, in which case his loyalty, his honesty would forbid him to spoil the chances of the other, who had the right of priority. The gentleman assured him that he was not in the least in love (poor girl) and gave him leave to present himself as much as he liked. The young lady is me; the gentleman is... Dourassoff.
Amen.
Hurt, they say, by my refusal, my admirer left Soden at once; fortunately his calèche had not yet been unharnessed.
That does not surprise me; the baron is tall, fair, stout, full-blooded. In Hamilton’s day I should have found him superb; poor Hamilton seems ugly to me now. But men of that kind generally love me, and generally, too, I detest them; it is also true that I hardly care more for the others... when I examine myself seriously.
Mergejewsky was fair, Bruschetti fair, Pacha Gorpintchenko (what a name!) fair, Plowden fair, Multedo fair — and now Baron Schenk also fair... Shall I count Santasiglia, who was a child but was fair?
Prince Ouroussoff, now there is one who could be useful to me with the Embassy in Paris... once the Antonskys have gone (they leave on Tuesday), I mean to cultivate him.
For at least three weeks I have been bored without my atelier... An introduction at the Embassy and I am the happiest of women. I am going to make a vow... It will be hard for me to come by 1,000 francs without explaining what I shall do with them... but I vow here to give 1,000 francs to the poor if I obtain this introduction... I swear it to God who hears me, and whom I beseech to hear me.