Saturday, 15 May 1880

Only a few people: Engelhardt, Iturbe (the man with the twenty-seven million and the grimace), Lahovari, Saint-Amand, Mme de Bailleul. Soutzo arrives for dinner and accompanies us to the circus with Saint-Amand. I am pretty; Soutzo beside me, hardly speaking, thinking of the moon.
Before the circus I gave him a sermon on the indignity it would be for a Soutzo to accept service in Romania under a foreign prince like the one who reigns there.
Then he is indignant. What! Is it not I who, through continual mockery, pushed him to accept a post as secretary or attache of legation? Is it not I who told him he was wrong to refuse it two months ago?
"I was mocking you then; I said it ironically. If you cannot discern anything, so much the worse. One never knows if you are sincere or joking!" How fitting it is for a Soutzo to be attache to the Romanian legation! Ah! Fie! I shall no longer receive you.
This was in front of Mme de Bailleul. I thought I had offended him, and finding myself alone with him for a moment, I asked him as a good little girl. "But no! Not at all!" I could not withdraw my hand. "Then you must not accept, you say?"
"No."
"Very well, I shall not accept" — and he kissed my hand.
At the exit from the circus, the Gavinis and Abattucci... Saint-Amand and Soutzo accompany us home. I gave my arm to Saint-Amand, who recited verse to me.
I continue my little story of the gentleman with 130,000 francs in income, and my aunt believes it. Soutzo calls him "the dirty fellow."
"Is it decided?"
"What does it matter to you?"
"It would pain me a little..."
"When it is 'a little,' one dares not say it."
"Well then — a great deal of pain."
"What does your pain matter to me?"
I spoke out against the legation simply because I would not wish this good fellow to leave.