Tuesday, 30 November 1880

On Saturday I went to see Le Père prodigue. On Sunday Saint Amand and Madame Cerny, and Gavini; then on Monday to the Français.
And then the arrival of a certain Trebinsky, well-born and rich, it seems, a cousin of Domenica’s. 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 dashingly that I shall give them a commemorative present.
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 infanta, and throw her into a carriage that sets off at a gallop. The father and sister gagged and carried off and borne like parcels into their noble dwelling. Five carriages, each drawn by six horses, were posted at intervals along the road, so that the brigade of soldiers and the officers sent in pursuit of the fugitives arrived only half an hour after the ceremony had been performed.
It is Paul who sends me these hasty details.
Julian has mentioned Antonin Proust to me as a sitter 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... well, we were both all sweetness. She kissed me four times.
I am a pearl, and not at all a woman. There you have it.

Notes

Le Père prodigue: “The Prodigal Father”, a play by Alexandre Dumas fils (1859); Marie writes un Père Prodigue. ↩