Wednesday, 23 October 1878

During these last days of the Exposition I shall skip the atelier two afternoons a week to see the beautiful things. I went today with M. and Mme Gavini (Denis). Denis kissed my hand — the true Bonapartist that he is. They are amused by me; provided it lasts; they have affection for me — provided it lasts and provided I profit from it. Oh! You know, I saw porcelains, yellow vases enough to drive one mad!
A few words were said about Cassagnac; it seems the people of the Gers demanded clamorously to see Mme Paul, and the hero promised to bring her next time.
All that, and the rest of it, makes me feel quite ill at ease.
Le Pays publishes a serial story which I read because it is by the Deceased. It is unsigned but I recognize it all the same. The Chambers open on Monday.
Among the beautiful things we encountered an Arab who resembles Cassagnac but younger, slimmer, more handsome — add the white burnous and you will understand why I fell in love with him on the spot.

Notes

Marie's bitter nickname for Cassagnac — "the Deceased" — after his marriage, as though he had died to her.