Sunday, 18 May 1879

Jeanne posed for me, and we kept her for dinner. I need not tell you that she is a well-born woman, perfectly bred, very educated and intelligent. She dresses badly and people take her for a flat-chested thing, whereas in reality she has one of the most [beautiful] figures one could see, though she is dark and slender.
She has magnificent eyes; the mouth is the same width as the eyes and as the breadth of the nose. But when she speaks the mouth grows large. The nose is very large but fine and noble.
A swan’s neck. She recalls the Queen of Italy (Princess Marguerite), though she is very dark — not in her skin, though; her skin is quite fair.
As you know, she married the Baron de Wykerslooth, son of the Princess de la Trémoïle — a dreadful brute, filthy, hypocritical, materialistic, and resembling a blond pig.
The poor woman was on the point of death when her family saved her by suing for separation. And proof that all the fault lies with the husband is that his own sister, a Mademoiselle de Wykerslooth — the Baronne de Veauce — testifies in the wife’s favour.
Poor woman — she detests him as I detested the Pole... you understand, in such a case it is better to drown oneself than to live with the husband. Besides, I think Jeanne could love no one... she is a woman of the Temple, if you have read L’Homme-Femme.

Notes

In French in the original: femme du Temple (in Dumas fils’s L’Homme-Femme, a woman who serves an ideal rather than a man). ↩
Alexandre Dumas fils’s pamphlet L’Homme-Femme (1872), kept under its French title; it means “The Man-Woman”. ↩