Tuesday, 30 November 1880

Saturday I went to see Le Pere prodigue. Sunday Saint-Amand and Madame Cerny, and Gavini; then Monday at the Francais.
And then the arrival of a certain Trebinsky, well-born and rich it seems, cousin of Domenica. I have not yet seen the gentleman, who has come twice bringing oriental fabrics and jewels on behalf of Maman.
And then, Paul is married. And he did it so boldly that I shall give them a commemorative gift.
The father, the young lady in question, and her sister go out for a walk in their park; they have not taken ten steps when fifty men rush forward, carry off the princess, and throw her into a carriage that departs at a gallop. The father and sister gagged and carried off and borne like parcels into their noble dwelling. Five carriages hitched with six horses each were spaced along the road, so that the brigade of soldiers and officers sent in pursuit of the fugitives arrived only half an hour after the celebration of the ceremony.
It is Paul who writes me these rapid details.
Julian has spoken to me of Antonin Proust to do for the Salon, perhaps; in any case he will see about getting me someone. That consoles me a little!
I have just come from Madame de Brimont's, who was... besides, we both were steeped in pleasantries. She kissed me four times.
I am a pearl, and not at all a woman. There you have it.