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. I amuse them — may it last; they are fond of me — may it last, and may it do me some good. Oh! You know, I saw porcelain, yellow vases enough to drive one mad!
A few words were said about Cassagnac; it seems the people of the Gers clamoured 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 recognise it all the same. The Chambers open on Monday.
Among other fine things, we came across 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

“The Deceased” (le Défunt): Marie’s name for Cassagnac after his marriage (27 June 1878). ↩