Monday, 8 September 1879

This evening Hecht gave us a stage box at the Opera. The first night of La Muette, and a very elegant house for September. I am dressed with a stunning simplicity; I go in for simplicity and close-fitting lines, especially the bodice, because my assets are exquisitely shaped and very dainty... I am talking nonsense... it is half past two in the morning... Hecht had sent his stall seat to Joseph and Joseph did not come to the theatre. It was as if there were no one there, because I had been thinking of this little fool while dressing. Hecht wants to give us a dinner at his house with radicals. But Gambetta is not in Paris.
Da Costa and Hecht stayed outside, and we brought Alexis home with us and have stayed together, Dina, he and I, until now.
Berthe has left and he takes her place for us, but as his name begins with an A he amuses me. His beard grows like Arnaud’s.
My aunt and Maman have been in bed for an hour, I would like to stay up all night smoking and talking nonsense for you know that I have a devil of a tongue... it seems that is the case with all virtuous women... Joseph... this name comes back to me every minute... I want to fall in love... provided someone is in love with me. I want some vulgar little affair, a very young and silly man. I have dreamed of grand passions but I no longer want them... this evening. It would be fun with Joseph. He wanted to marry a courtesan and his mother the magnificent Mme Arnaud had all the trouble in the world preventing this sweet union. He is a child besides, of twenty-one to twenty-two, not even... poor devil... I have drunk only lemonade and I am in very high spirits... I say, there is no one to chat with... You, most adored readers, but fifty years lie between us. This journal is my life. It will be funny, this dinner at Hecht’s... very comical. If only there were A...rnaud. Do you remember our running joke at Nice with Bihovetz, called General Bibi, and my graces?
Ah! it is most astonishing
Ah! it is most surprising
Who! will tell me how
Ends! this incident
Ah! it is most astonishing
Ah! it is most etc...
We sang this to each other all day long.
Oh the Surprising Emile, oh the summer at Nice, oh supreme springtime of my youth! It is silly but it is charming.
Decidedly, a distance of fifty years does not favour conversation; it languishes. Good night.
I am not happy.

Notes

Auber’s opera La Muette de Portici (1828), known in English as The Dumb Girl of Portici; Marie gives it as la Muette. ↩