Monday, 29 December 1879

Yesterday at dinner we had the Mouzays and Gaillard. These future geniuses are deplorable. Do you know what he did? He excused himself twice and, having met Maman in the antechamber, asked her where it was to be found. The lovable Joseph Arnaud of the Ariege annoys me nicely; he will prevent me from displaying my Republican sympathies; they would be attributed a meaning they do not have.
Gabriel and Alexis at dinner this evening. There are too few people for one to be quite at ease. This intimacy embarrasses me a little, but I save myself by joking, as Alexis says. Besides, the time passes in a charming manner.
Gabriel stresses the words purity, virtue, candor, assuring us that it is not true and that he was even rather humiliated by it. This lends itself to drawing-room running jokes and we amuse ourselves with it very late. I improvise verses with the rhymes: pure, virtuous, hard, happy, anatomy, mummy.
Every time your virtue is attacked, produce this certificate.
Besides, we flounder again around Joseph.
Gabriel is so kind that he tries to reassure me and turn the whole thing into a joke at which one cannot even laugh. "When Joseph Arnaud knows you from near or far, he will see clearly that this note could not have come from you." Yes, but meanwhile what does he think... I am willing for him not to concern himself too much with me, but this affair classifies me vilely in his mind; every time he meets me he will have this impression. A brazen adventuress who chases after his gold.
If ever he deigned to look at me with a benevolent eye, this affair has destroyed everything, and he will not even want to be introduced to me. It is like in La Dame aux camelias. Tell me that I must die to possess this woman, I shall consent to die; but if one comes to tell me that I can have her for ten louis, I would go away weeping. He will not weep about it, but he will refuse to be introduced to me. And that is easily understood, after all.
I thought of writing to Gery, telling him that I have just discovered etc., etc., and that this gentleman absolutely must be reassured. But the wise counsels, if not Edmond's prophecy, are there: do not write too many letters! I have always fared badly from them. I shall wait for an occasion, either Mme Adam's masked fete or an Opera ball where I would go in a box and where I would explain myself frankly with this gentleman. And until then he must have this ugly, this dirty opinion of me.
I should immediately, on Thursday, have had myself introduced to him and explained.
"Monsieur, I have been the victim of an odious hoax, etc."
One cannot let such things pass.