Sunday, 31 August 1879

Yesterday we went to Pourville and when one goes to Pourville one has lunch there and then one goes to lie on the pebbles and throw them at each other’s heads. Dina spoiled the outing for me by flirting in a thousand little ways with Hecht and the others; I no longer knew what to say, she fluttered about and made such impudent eyes at the men that I was embarrassed and at the same time vexed to see the men going her way, but this did not make me exactly jealous; it seems to me I would want nothing that had to be bought with so many languorous and absolutely shameless glances, not to say a word I cannot find. She is a good child but when she gets going one must hide under the table. I am silly enough to feel ashamed on other people’s behalf.
This evening at table d’hôte she got so giddy that she threw a piece of bread at Da Costa’s head. It is fortunate she does not drink anything, otherwise people would say all sorts of things. I told her all this rather harshly, for Hecht and the others hardly know us and might think God knows what.
It is the same with Blanc too, she copies me word for word and then introduces variations of doubtful taste, in a style that strikes me like a cheap, badly printed copy, which offends and grieves me. It is the blood of her mother, who amused herself as much as she could and passed on to her that vulgar exuberance which bursts out in her gaiety. She has already lost Marcuard by putting him off with such manners.
They say she is sweet and calm but certain things in her eyes and her thick lips betray a great deal. I am fond of her when she is calm; I should like to see her coquettish and sweet and surrounded by admirers, but when she is, so to speak, inspired, she drives me beside myself and fills me with the same horror as women of the street. Our little company is hardly ever apart; I had a piano brought to my room and Hecht plays for us; in the evening we went to the casino, where I recovered a little of my verve, and today I did a little portrait of Hecht and we talked and laughed. This Jew flatters me greatly, I am astonishing, profound, and I do not know what else. He seems to enjoy my talk, and thank heaven I have not been silly the way I was before Cassagnac, when I wanted to be interesting. Blanc says I have gained 50 percent in wisdom and that I am no less extraordinary: “She is all right now,” says the illustrious waltzer. Did you know he really waltzes well? I danced with him at the ball.