Sunday, 13 July 1879

I truly do not know what pleasure there is in weeping. One seeks out these emotions, one is avid for newspapers that draw torrents of burning tears... and afterwards one is somehow content.
We went to the great military review, and on leaving I was able to see Arnaud quite close and long enough to tell you: he is not handsome. He was flushed (he had been running to find a carriage), and besides, there are days when one is ugly. In short, I found him ugly — and above all he had an air... of stupidity; I exaggerate nothing. I believe he is courting a tall American woman, rather stout, very blonde, with a large face and a dazzling complexion. Dresses in poor taste. They are two sisters; I saw them at the Chamber. He seems foolish enough to court this person. I admire him now only as a millionaire. As for Madame Arnaud — she is an empress.
How is it possible that she should be a Mademoiselle Guichard, widow Arnaud?
Splendid and elegant dress, bearing, gait, manner — a queen.
The Mouzays arrive and we amuse ourselves turning tables.
I do not know whether these good ladies cheated — I do not think so, however.
The spirit of the Prince came and told us that he loved neither Jérôme nor Victor. Then it was Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy, who told us that he did not love Jérôme, that Jérôme would not reign and would die a violent death in a year and five months. His son Victor will be President or Dictator in seven years.
That King Humbert has no more than two years and some months to live.
I am not altogether convinced.
They say that Princess Beatrice is going to take the veil. What dreadful things.
But why is it I who feel and weep for all these misfortunes?