Sunday, 21 November 1880

Yesterday I spent the day running about with Magdeleine Delsarte through the most outlying neighbourhoods in search of a model for the competition. We lunched on cakes in the carriage. In the evening, a small party at Madame Engelhardt’s. I go so that people will not say I am ill. We make the acquaintance of several Russian ladies but invite no one except Thomas de Barbarin, who arrived very late. We talked and had tea.
Saint Amand came to cut his capers here around one o’clock; the Tchoumakoffs arrived at the same time, then Berthe, then Madame Engelhardt to thank me for coming — “I, who go nowhere, and who had been the most amiable creature in the world in making an exception in her favour.”
Then old Denis and his wife.
Then we go to Dr. Potain’s; Berthe accompanies us that far. She complains of being persecuted by her old-maid sister and by her mother, who delights in setting her at odds with her husband.
The poor thing has tears in her voice. Heavens, it is quite possible she is being persecuted — it happens in families — but that will not stop all Paris from saying she is the mistress of young Blanc.
That she should have a lover, and a rich lover, was inevitable, given the husband she has. I knew that even before the marriage. But never mind.
Let us talk about me. I am reading Emile de Girardin’s pamphlet L’égale de l’homme. It is long-winded despite a certain brusqueness, and its logic is not logical at all. But for all that it is good, since it is in favour of equality. My Sundays must be spent preparing to take examinations; I must be at least, at least a bachelor of arts when woman emerges from her humiliation. And then I shall go to see Hubertine Auclert next Sunday, at 12 rue du Cail.

Notes

L’égale de l’homme: “Man’s Equal”, a pamphlet by Émile de Girardin. ↩
Hubertine Auclert (1848-1914), leading French suffragist and feminist activist. ↩