Saturday, 5 June 1880

“Marry or go away,” and I reply:
“Two cruel extremes.”
In short, it is agreed; he came to fetch the paper.
By way of visitors: Mme Gavini, Berthe, Antoine, d’Alt, Turquan, and Casimir, and Saint-Amand.
These last two accompany us to the circus. Eve of the Grand Prix, a stunning performance. Our Empress has died; consequently we are in mourning. Casimir is beside me. An immense crowd of men pours into the ring to get a better look at Oceana on her wire...
A beautiful girl, very beautiful — the lower legs a bit thick, the elbows a bit angular, and too much bosom. But non-artists do not notice that.
“When one has the perfect lover’s manual in one’s pocket,” said Casimir, “one does not concern oneself with all that. And to think all these people are here for Oceana — but it is all the same to us...”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I speak for myself.”
I teased him about Saint-Marceaux, who had just greeted me and was seated not far away.
“Well, he is nice — and then what? What will you do with Saint-Marceaux?”
“But I don’t know — do not think he is some low artist; he is a man of the world, and he has immense talent.”
In short, I believe Casimir is content with his situation. He feared being dismissed like a dog. Coming out, we meet the Gavinis again and see them part of the way home, old Gavini giving me his arm... and here comes a cruel remark... “In your situation,” he said to me confidentially (we were talking of Casimir), “I advise you to marry him, truly. He is certainly not very handsome, but he is nice, and then...”
As for beauty, these people say Las Cases and Multedo are handsome. Las Cases is thirty-seven, black as a crow, burnt complexion, black side-whiskers; medium height or below. He received a kick from a horse on his forehead, which left a scar. Las Cases is not bad — he is good-looking, but he must be dissolute, and then those thirty-seven years... I am like an old woman: I greatly appreciate youth.
That performance was truly beautiful... The audience, the... I don’t know what — there was something formidable about it that made me think of the circuses of antiquity.
Saint-Amand and Casimir come in for wine and cakes at our house, and Casimir finds a way to whisper in my ear that he loves me.