Thursday, 17 June 1880

Fittings for dresses, then in the evening Soutzo, with declarations at full steam. He lets himself sink to his knees, takes my hands, and like a child rests his head on my shoulder.
I let it pass. He is very unhappy. A forest and fields of wheat have burned over there in Romania. And then he loves me and I do not love him, and I tell him so — though gently...
A curious evening. I was attending as a spectator, wishing to see to what degree one can be moved by a man one does not love. I smiled with a particular and artless coquetry that turned his head completely. I would not swear to the purity of his sentiments, since I was stirring in him sentiments that were not pure...