Monday, 3 May 1880

Costume ball at the Pascalis’ — prettier than their usual soirées thanks to the costumes; it is a crush. In the way of friends, the Mouzays, Dubois, Rouzat, and others I know whose names escape me.
Two Russians are presented to me: Baron Brunier and Kiriewsky, and M. de Caillas. All in all, I believe I am a success. The tiers by which one ascends to the balcony overlooking the Champs-Élysées are picturesquely filled; I take my place there with Mademoiselle de Daillens and men at our feet. As these people are beneath me, I am superb in my indifference.
The great success of the ball is young Amigues, son of the former deputy and editor-in-chief of Le Petit Caporal. Tony had spoken to me of his beauty, but I had not imagined him thus.
He was dressed as a sort of Italian or Spanish brigand, and at first I thought he had an artificial head. So much eye, so much beard, so much height, so much hair seemed false to me. In short, the only false thing was the black mane, for it appears the locks falling over his forehead are his own. He is a very tall young man of improbable beauty — gazelle eyes, a nose of prodigious elegance, a black beard growing high on his cheeks, and an altogether... impressive expression. One cannot go out every day with such a head — it needs a case! “He is made up,” I said...
“No, I assure you,” replied de Daillens, “he is like that.”
I was looking at him rather curiously, and I believe he noticed my neck and my arms...
Ah! Good heavens! Yesterday Julian dined with us, en famille. I always spend agreeable hours with our amiable director.
I wore my Récamier costume. I was not flushed as on Saturday evening; I believe I looked as well as I possibly can. Success beautifies one prodigiously.
Mouzay and her daughter were supposed to present Amigues to me, but we kept missing each other. Baron Brunier is a very young officer of the Chevalier Guards who much regrets being unable to attend our Saturdays, as he departs the day after tomorrow. Maman invites him to dinner — it seems this is done in Russia — and his friend Kiriewsky as well.
We return home at four o’clock.

Notes

Le Petit Caporal (“The Little Corporal”) was a Bonapartist newspaper. ↩