Friday, 13 June 1879

Monsieur and Madame Gavini and Messieurs de Morgan, Filippini, Multedo, and Gavini (the nephew) dine with us. The dinner was good, but afterwards there was nothing to do. Berthe arrived for a quarter of an hour — she is going to a party. And I was silly, as I used to be with Cassagnac. Besides, my family makes me ridiculous. They bring out the guitar, the mandolin, everything under the sun, and then I must play — and this evening instead of playing I laughed the whole time like an idiot, for no reason. Gavini, who loves music, was irritated; so I played the child with him, saying it was not my fault, that I did not want him to think ill of my giddiness, etc., etc. In short, I am displeased with myself.

I feel one of those small mortifications that are so supremely disagreeable... Shall I then never have a consistently good... deportment? For there are days when I know how to conduct myself — but there are others too!...

I wager that all those people criticised me as they left; and there is no proper hostess here — especially when I am as I was this evening. The Gavinis were bored; I tell him... she is fond of me but he was shocked by my behaviour with my various instruments. In short it is stupid... I am vexed.

But I have returned to work, as Julian has noted.

The Tchoumakoffs came toward the end...

No — it was a bad evening... At table I at least had some wit... but.

Ah! Life bores me.

There are days when nothing goes right.