Sunday, 10 August 1879

We leave the day after tomorrow at the latest.
I sent my photograph to Prince Ouroussoff, to whom I had promised it at Soden. If he answers with a kind letter, I shall then ask him for a letter of introduction. Moreover, I shall tell Maman to ask one from the Anitchkoffs. Sculpture!
To leave Paris, to live elsewhere! It is impossible. I should only like, now and then, to go and spend I do not know how many days in Italy. One must not know how long one is staying.
One goes and is so happy that one forgets oneself there and then one fine day one is called back to reality and returns to Paris. That is life. I am agitated by all these projects, plans, desires, ambition!
Poor Berthe came and we took her to the Bois with us. She almost invited herself, she is so sad. Her husband gads about, or else spends his time walking with Mme Boyd. Mme Boyd agrees with him in everything; the two of them make a set of their own and always leave the young wife alone.
Berthe only says it laughing, she would even protest loudly if anyone said it to her bluntly, but it is visible and understandable to anyone. And if certain suspicions were not absolutely impossible I do not know what I would think of all this. If the fault lay with the poor child she would not keep coming here to pass the time with women. She loves her husband and would be the happiest of women if he would be good to her. He runs about with MM. de Boishébert and de Rohan; those two gentlemen who, when I named them as companions of Lancaster, made Gavini say: “Ah ha! So it is clear that he is a scoundrel.” Poor silly Berthe looks so sad that I feel sorry for her and forget the business of the mask.
We meet the Gavinis, and they cry out that they have been to say goodbye to us, since we are leaving. Halfway there they take me into their carriage and so we arrive at their house where my family fetches me.
I have nothing to say except that I think only of... the Deceased.
Yes! I have to tell you that Little Lighthouse was seen at Mabille with women to whom he was saying aloud: “I am so sorry I cannot invite you to my home, but you understand, my little ones, when one lodges at the Palais Bourbon!” I believed him almost pure and without blemish. This spoils him for me. It was rather naive to believe him pure... but it went with his type of beauty.