Sunday, 23 May 1880

I spend the morning arranging hats and playing with my dogs: Prater, Coco, Pincio, and his two children, Thing and Whatsit — both white.
At the Gavinis’: Chaudordy, Nervo, Las Cases, and then Valentine, the Duchess de Valence.
De Daillens has just left. She has invited me to dinner on Wednesday, with a grand soirée afterwards. You see, I do go into society.
Soutzo will probably not come. It is not only that: I feel I am entering a run of bad luck. I expect all sorts of troubles; I want to cry, and I would like to crawl under a table, shut my eyes and stop my ears, if only they would leave me in peace.
Julian came so that we could look for a background together. Seeing him out, I met Mme de Brimond, who came in and stayed an hour with us.
Here is a long piece from the Gazette des Femmes. I subscribe but know no one there and wonder who provided them with this information. Pelikan’s daughter and Mme Cross, Anitchkoff and the Orthodox priest at dinner. I would gladly send all these people to the devil, yet I fretted over whether Soutzo would come or not — not for the pleasure of seeing him, but from vanity. Last night at the Franckensteins’ they must have turned him against me. Alexis and Bojidar were there, and the others.