Sunday, 8 June 1879

The Grand Prix. I am sad, though dressed in white — elegant, charming, with a hat that becomes me well. A straw hat with a white satin bow. A dress in striped, Oriental, crêped fabric. Admirable black boots from Ferry's — there is no one like him.
Madame Gavini, Dina, myself, and Monsieur Randouin in the eight-spring carriage, and Gavini and Madame Randouin in a coupé — which did not please the beautiful Odette; Madame Gavini took her with us on the return, and the two husbands followed conscientiously. Rain was expected, but the weather was as fine as could be. I did not enjoy myself — there were no escorts except the two Karageorgevitches, Monsieur de Vernette, and Captain Blanc, who boasts of us in public, who offered me his arm — but I took Gavini's, and Dina got Blanc. When he came near me I was stupidly frightened; I thought he was going to speak to me before the Gavinis about Cassagnac or the letters. I began reciting a prayer under my breath I was so afraid.
Madame Gavini tells us that she saw the Duc de Rivoli this morning, who wants her to arrange his marriage and who made her laugh for two hours. The good lady knows that I want a very rich husband, so do not think it was for me — she was simply relating it to Madame Randouin among a thousand other things. I questioned her and learned that the gentleman has forty thousand and will later have sixty thousand livres de rente, and will have a second entailed estate if he has the sense to produce a son; that he is looking for a young woman of twenty-two to twenty-six with sixty thousand livres as he has. I do not quite know why I thought of him a few days ago. He is short, chestnut-haired, bald, slim; was the Souvorova's lover for a long time, which is why they say he will be the best husband in the world, for he appears to have demonstrated an angelic character, charming to the point of stupidity.
He often goes to Italy, which strikes me as the sign of a fine soul, I know not why. He is forty-five and declares that one must hurry to marry him off. — "Come now, Madame Gavini — what use are you if you don't marry me off!" — That good Mother Gavini with all her Nice protégés.
I regret not being at least twenty-three; I would have married him at once. As I am, I think myself too young to renounce a better and more unforeseen fate. And if in two or three years he is still not married, I shall try to marry him; but he will be married, unfortunately.
I may be a little green, but it seems to me a disgusting thing — these men who, having reached a certain age, beg to be married off.
When Gavini told me Rivoli had come to this, I was astonished. I had imagined this faded gentleman, returned from Russian and princely liaisons, to be a kind of dreamer, a traveller between Rome and Naples — in a word, a fine soul.
Blast!
Poor little Berthe — she comes rather often to see us, and this evening I say "poor little Berthe" without any irony.
She is unhappy. Her ignoble creature torments her, forbids her to go out with him, goes out himself without a word, comes home late, goes everywhere; and if she asks him in the most natural way: where are you going? or, where have you been? or, what have you done? — he makes scenes. And one day he made her walk from here to the Bastille despite her complaints, and in slippers too small for her, indoor shoes, so that she came home with swollen and lacerated feet; and then he told her it was to break her of the habit of going out with him. In short, a heap of filth. As for me, I have never had the shadow of a doubt about it. And this fool of a woman — do you know what she says?
"I know that Robert adores me at heart — but at this moment there is a woman who has an enormous influence over him and who forbids him to be with me. Robert is so weak. Anyone can influence him."
— "And he is... in love with this woman?"
— "Yes... but at heart he adores me. And then there is a young woman he is courting, to whom he conceals that I am his wife. This young woman, on learning that Robert is married, is furious and takes him from me deliberately."
No need to continue, is there?