Friday, 16 May 1879

Gavini is back from his trip to Corsica; we meet again at the Salon, where all high society is gathered. Princess Mathilde was very gracious to the Gavinis, and I felt so wretched that I truly do not know where it came from; and when Madame de Rothschild spoke to me I blushed to the ears. Now I imagine the Gavinis take me for a hanger-on because I walked on old Gavini's arm. In short... I am as sad as I was gay two days ago. For no reason.
The Salon is a dangerous thing, because on seeing the rubbish — genuine rubbish — to be found there, one begins to think oneself somebody when one is still nothing.
Collignon's father died this morning; I shall write to her.
Ah! go on — my life is not worth very much.