Sunday, 24 August 1879

Berthe breaks the monotony of the family... and what a tiresome family!
Yesterday we talked with the candles out until four o’clock in the morning. We go to the races; I have a dress of white wool muslin in the ideal style, draped like an antique statue, a large muslin fichu over the shoulders; gloves to the elbow, black hat and boots. Berthe has an outfit of Pompadour batiste made in the current fashion, that is to say imitation Louis XV or XIV, very much worn, and a pretty hat. Her husband makes her adopt a cocotte style of dress. It is a pity. Da Costa, Sandford, Blanc and Lambertye, you remember the Comte de Lambertye in Nice, of course? my acrostics?
Berthe introduces him to me. There is a crowd of people, familiar faces.
The vile Larderel is there with dirty women and completely stupefied.
As our room is on the ground floor, when we have not gone out we are always at the third window on the left and there is always someone in front of the window. It is, I believe, the only rather cheerful thing about the hotel; before, it was the princes, now there are others. We call to one another, we talk, and while one of us is at the window another dresses or tidies herself at the back of the room and joins in the conversation from a distance; Dina, Berthe and I.
After the races there is the Casino, fireworks. But to liven things up a little we go, the three of us and Alexis, to the little town theatre to see some comedy or other and arrive just in time for the fireworks. Our escorts bring us a divan from the auditorium, for there was not a single chair left, and we are settled in royal style.
Afterwards we have supper on the hotel veranda and laugh until we double over at everything and nothing.
I am not enjoying myself.
Bojidar is in love with me. You know how lucky I am.