Sunday, 26 September 1880

I have been running around the shops and ordering dresses as if I needed them. The eighteen Biarritz dresses are mouldering in the wardrobes. I sent two to Wladimir's daughters. I would have sent more, but the other sixteen were in very plain fabrics, with no trimmings, and were only possible on me. Sending them would be almost making fun of someone. But dressing is an art, and even though I go nowhere I dress — for myself, for the love of art.
Monsieur Gavini has just left — he is in Paris by chance. I complain about Biarritz and very stupidly nearly burst into tears. This evening we shall go to the Circus.
Géry and Saint-Amand came yesterday in our absence. Gabriel has been appointed secretary in Rome. Lucky man!
Saint-Amand says Gabriel adores l'enfant... The child is me. But I am also very fond of Gabriel. We love each other in friendship — you see that it is possible... provided one sees each other rarely, and then... he would quite happily marry me for my money, and I would quite happily marry him for his, if he had enough. Such is life.
Géry senior joins us at the Circus. I enjoy myself. Despite the pain, despite the sorrows, when one is young there is an animal need for laughter, for gaiety.
Tonight it is Gavini and Géry, Gabriel's father, and when there is no one it is Coco or nothing at all — I amuse myself looking at myself in the mirror.
Rosita came to see me; my aunt was out at the same time as Saint-Amand and Cerny. These last two we take to the Bois, and in the Allée des Acacias we get out to walk on foot, as is the fashionable thing to do. I am wearing a dark green costume, hat, shoes, and gloves to match. A figure that turns everyone's head.
Coquelin crosses our path and exchanges a greeting with Saint-Amand, who promises to bring me all of Léon's friends. We often talk of it for a laugh. And then Saint-Amand tells me whenever someone finds me attractive, which amuses me.