Wednesday, 30 July 1879

We have a visit from Blanc! We had met him several times and he would approach us as if nothing had happened. Now here he comes to call. It is all the same to me, except for a slight feeling of discomfort at first.
We do not do this individual the honour of taking offence at his absences. Everything goes on as it did a year ago, except that the Comtesse Couvelet has replaced the Hungarian woman. Blanc tells me several things I knew and others I did not. The chivalrous Popaul gives his mistress’s name to his wife. He calls her Ninette so as not to get them mixed up. Ninette “chatters all day long”, enough to tire out a regiment. She claims to dictate his newspaper articles to the chivalrous Popaul, who has grown thin, while Ninette, on the other hand, has grown fat, not at the waist, adds Blanc. Her face is covered in pimples. I am disgusted merely writing it. Do you remember the superb Popaul saying that if he saw the slightest little blemish on a woman’s face he was disgusted by it? I asked nothing; Dina asked very few questions, and in jest, and the captain needed no urging to tell.
He says Paul’s wife talks far too much. So I told him with a serious air that it came of being young. He protested.
— “Surely, Monsieur — she is sixteen or seventeen.”
— “Who told you that!”
— “Several people. Is it not true?”
— “But no — she is a woman of... twenty-six.”
He already admits to twenty-six... but all this is mere trifling...
I believe it is he who has my letters... I do not care.