Thursday, 11 December 1879

We go for a sleigh ride with Mme Gavini, and she tells us that Multedo is getting married.
After the first moment of surprise I am glad of it... He is a good fellow, and he is marrying a young and pretty person of good family and fairly rich — a dowry of 300,000 francs. And then it will spare me scenes. I have several times nearly quarrelled with the Gavinis, who wanted me to marry him, and as I refused, they always insisted it must be because I had something against him. In vain did I swear that I had nothing against him, but simply that he did not appeal to me. It went so far that Mme Gavini said so to Multedo several times. Every time he spoke of us she told him to be quiet, that I detested him and that it was all over. Only last Saturday he asked me whether I really detested him, so I explained to him frankly that my indifference alone was the cause of the ideas Mme Gavini had taken into her head, that I had nothing against him, and that if I was not in love with him, that was no reason to believe I hated him.
So we come home from our drive, after calling at the Randouins’, where we leave Mme Gavini, and at home we find my mothers and Bojidar, to whom we tell the news. Thereupon my mothers are surprised and vexed — they had believed Multedo would die of love for me — and Maman begins to moan that she would dearly like to be in the place of Mme de Lattena (that is the name of the future mother-in-law), that at least she would be easy in her mind and would die in peace. I, you understand, gently begged her not to repeat such things, because although everyone knows it was I who refused the gentleman, on hearing the mother talk like that everyone will say we have been jilted. Of me above all it will be said readily; I have such bad luck. People even said that Janvier de la Motte would not have me, when I had angrily refused him before he was so much as introduced to me.
What do you think my mother answered? She answered that it was none of my business and that she would repeat before everyone what she had just said, that... and thereupon a quarrel, the resurrection of all the old grievances, and an oath on her honour that it is I who compromise and ruin myself, and that everyone knows I do not care a straw for her, that she can say what she likes and that she will tell everyone her regrets and her jealousies, etc., etc.
And I, I swear to you, was only pointing out in very moderate terms that such things compromised us and humiliated me.
But what is the use! They are mad, and they will say the devil and all rather than admit that I am right when we are among ourselves, with no one else there, and could settle things together. And in front of people an affected servility that makes them say I rule the whole house. Well — madwomen... As for me, I am giving everything up.
I am giving up Arnaud, who takes no notice of me.
The evening ends in a farce. These ladies, the Princess, Bojidar, Alexis and Blanc go off to the Variétés, and we — Dina, de Toulouse and I — get a champagne supper out of the cupboard, and after supping we lay four places so that they will think there have been guests, and I pour water and white wine into the emptied champagne bottle, which I carefully cork; the same trick with the foie gras, which I stick back together. They will all come back for supper. Bon appétit.