Wednesday, 10 September 1879

Uncle Lautrec has arrived, he will spend some time with us.
I do not know if I have told you of a plan for a marriage between him and Dina.
He was married to Grand-papa’s sister, by whom he had several children but only two survive: the unmarried Count Alexandre and the Marquise Montecuculi de Merano who has a host of children and is very rich, having inherited from an old relative, the Marquis de Merano. There are even stories about this. The old uncle has hit on the idea of making Dina a young widow; the idea is charming... Dina is a beautiful girl of twenty-four, when she was nineteen I believed she was already faded, but I was only fifteen... As a very young girl she was worn, pale, sallow, ugly; now, with a little dressing up, though without rouge, she can make an impression and look very pretty. Even her complexion has become very white and faintly pink, although her body has remained a dark, earthy colour, inexplicable alongside that blondest of blonde hair, greenish blonde at the temples and golden at the end of the braids. Her hair falls below her knees but there is very little of it; on her head and down to her shoulders it is still thick but the rest of the braids is pitiful, which she makes up for by working in long false pieces, and the whole forms an astonishing forest... That is precisely what revolts my silly honesty when people admire this hair: I believe I could not bear all these compliments knowing that three-quarters of this beauty is not legitimate, for, between us, if she let only her own hair hang down people would laugh at it, it would be rats’ tails. All the same, I say it only here and I would take care not to say it to anyone in the world, but I have scruples.
I would not want to hand this girl over to this old man. He must be seventy... but he could live ten years more. But there is no other match... and one has to marry, after all.
Hecht and Blanc in the evening. Blanc plays piquet and feels somewhat put out by the attention paid to Hecht. They stayed until one o’clock; by then everyone was hungry, we had supper, and the friend of Gambetta did not leave until two, together with the friend of Paul de Cassagnac.