Saturday, 24 January 1880

Our Saturdays are well attended. There are few absentees. Mme Pernety comes and says that Mme Gavini is ill, so that, at about nine in the evening, leaving Mme de Bailleul, Wodzinski and Soutzo, whom we had kept to dinner, with my aunt and Dina, Maman and I go to the rue d’Astorg. She is all alone, knitting a coverlet for Denis, very happy. The dear little thing. I was sure she would not leave me on my own. We had to stay until Denis came back from Rouher’s, and then I learn that he (Gavini himself) has lunched with Plon-Plon. At that I have a fit of real enthusiasm, for I love this Prince and think him very shrewd and altogether superior. And I point out that I was the first to rally to him, when the little Prince was scarcely dead. “That does not stop you running off to the Republic now and then,” the old man says to me. Not at all, and I shall do it again, and wherever I can take something I shall take it, and then if Plon-Plon dies I shall love his son, or someone else. And then a lot of nonsense.
written across the page
Plon-Plon will not hear of Cassagnac, and Gavini has confessed that his latest articles in Le Pays are quite mad. So I am not alone in saying so.
At lunch there were the Duc de Felbre, Baron Brunet, Gavini, Larlande, Roy de Laulai, and two others, and the Prince; that makes eight.
Afterwards I rush off to see whether de Daillens has recovered enough to go to the Opera ball. Alas, no. I am in a rage this evening. By the way, the Comte de Rouzat (introduced at our evening party; ugly, 60,000 or 100,000 livres a year, very good family, perfectly received in the best and strictest houses, but a little ridiculous, and a friend of the very illustrious, very great, very handsome and very magnificent Arnaud, lord of the Ariège) says that at old Mother Adam’s Arnaud wore an oriental costume that cost 15,000 francs, without the jewels. It had been sent for from Constantinople — marvellous fabrics. And Coquelin had one even finer.
At the end of the ball these two aristocrats lay down on the floor and caught the ladies by the feet. Perhaps it is only gossip! And among intimates, too! I am anxious to know whether Hecht said dreadful things about us to Juliette Lamber at her last Wednesday...