Saturday, 1 November 1879 - All Saints’ Day

As Julian is not correcting the sketches, I stay at home, put on a black velvet dress and do the honours for the few people who come today: Berthe, Bichinsky, M. and Mme Gavini, and finally young Géry, who stayed quite a long time and told us that every time he meets Joseph Arnaud, Joseph is in the act of overturning his carriage (we got on to this subject by way of Gambetta’s marriage to Mme Arnaud de l’Ariège, a universal topic that compromises no one). So I say he really ought to learn to drive. But Gabriel (I call him Gabriel because Mme Gavini does, and besides one must distinguish him from his father, and besides the name suits him; I am sorry I cannot call him that when he is here) — so Gabriel says that he drives very well, but he breaks in his horses himself and is never afraid. One day he was flung three metres from his carriage, almost onto the step of the one carrying Géry and his two friends; well, he calmly put his hat back on, “looking at us with perfect calm”, and got in with them, telling them about the accident as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. The gentle Joseph has pluck.
Gabriel has a good deal of his bearing; he has fine, calm eyes too, and in his whole young nature there is something gentle, penetrating, pleasant.
I should be disillusioned if I heard this young man talk the crude language young men use among themselves. He is very amiable, rather witty and distinguished, without being a flatterer, a poseur or a joker. I like him very much, in short. It is a pity I am a woman; otherwise I should have made friends with this child. M. de Tarente is in the drawing room, but I leave that degenerate La Palférine to my family. Géry counts for something with me; it is silly, but he has in a way impressed me, because he is different from the others. He is an honest soul. Old Géry is a friend of Mme de Brimond, our neighbour on the third floor, a woman active in politics.