Sunday, 30 May 1880

The Gavinis, Antoine, and I at Auteuil. I am in white, a straw hat gracefully covered with a silk crêpe veil, tied in front with two fresh roses. Roses also on the left side of the hat. Saxon gloves, shoes in the same style embroidered with chenille and gold. White parasol lined with pink, Japanese wood handle inlaid with coloured stones — ladybirds, foliage, etc.
Just as I was getting into the carriage to fetch the Gavinis, Soutzo came to ask if we had left; he comes to speak to me. I am pretty as a rose, and his eyes shine enough to prove I am not mistaken. He follows the landau and waits at the Gavinis’ door. But I see little of him there — tucked away among the betting men, probably.
Gavini walks with me so that I will not walk with young men. We see many acquaintances: Pernety; Nervo, who walks with me (proof that I am chic, otherwise he would not have asked); L. Chevreau; the Prince of Monaco; Dufour; de Lareintie, etc. etc. etc. The Brochetons, Moliner, Moraës, Miranda, other Spaniards; Morgan, who is often near us and who also walks with me to show off a woman worth showing. I would enjoy myself very much were it not for the absences of that insignificant Soutzo. Fine society, ravishing toilettes. A charming drive home.
“Marry him,” Adeline tells me. “You will be a princess, very well placed; you will have all sorts of advantages and satisfactions; you will go where you please; you will commit whatever extravagances suit you; you will be the absolute mistress.” “Oh yes, that — but do you think he is... enough for me to be able to commit extravagances, as you say...”
“Unless you mean to wear a fortune on your head... very good family. Believe me, marry him — you will be a princess, twice a princess, being a foreigner. Otherwise you will come to nothing... running round the ateliers, artist, young girl... nonsense. Marry.”
The King of Greece attended the Races in the President’s box. It is as pretty as the Grand Prix and even more respectable. I told the Gavinis that I know nothing more displeasing than Soutzo, that Morgan is better. “Indeed,” they say, “Morgan is better.” Good heavens! Morgan has red hair, is beginning to go bald, and looks like an owl. But there you have it — French ladies like Adeline find that very fine, like Rivoli for instance.
Washed-out fair hair, narrow shoulders, a bony nose, red cheekbones — the type, in a word, of the modern Gentleman, and they find that distinguished!
Zounds, I know very well what it is to be distinguished! Multedo — they find him handsome!! A skin that irritates easily, red eyelids, a nose... red nostrils, dirty blond hair, the beginnings of a paunch. How can you compare that to a matt, young, clean skin like Soutzo’s, who has a nose one could put a ring in but which is neither red nor wrinkled? Gabriel, by all means! Gabriel is distinguished, but he is neither ugly, nor dirty, nor washed-out fair, nor tired, nor faded, nor insipid.
Gabriel is adorable, and Soutzo beside him is like a bulldog beside a greyhound. But Gabriel is not even a Romanian prince.
Mme Géry — is that not impossible enough! In short, all this is nonsense, and I should very much like first to go to the waters and spend a winter in Petersburg, where one marries very easily when one is a Sarah Bernhardt of the respectable type, like me.
Soutzo would be an ordinary ending. I regret not being able to make him wait two years.
I was on the point of going to bed when Soutzo arrived at ten o’clock. I am brusque and do not offer my hand.
“What became of you at the Races? Where did you hide yourself?”
“Me?”
“You — what is this habit of hiding yourself in public places! I do not love you; I love those who are amiable and kind, like those I saw there...”
“You had two men with you — that was enough.”
“Antoine and M. Gavini? Those are not two men — that is the family. How hard up would I be if I could not have had a dozen around me to walk with and amuse me?”
“What would I have done in their midst?”
“That is not the question. I detest this habit of arriving at ten in the evening. If you want to see me, look at me in front of everyone, like everyone else. There. What are you doing here?”
“I have come to play piquet with your aunt.”
“Well then, go.”
And I left them to play.