Monday, 28 March 1881

I do my competition work in the morning; the afternoons I shall spend going out. We go to the Queen’s, where there is a great crowd; I was reluctant to go, feeling uneasy since I know the Marquise d’Altavilla, her lady-in-waiting, and the Marquise de Merced, the chamberlain’s wife, so little. We have not been for eight months. These ladies were very agreeable, so the ice is broken and I shall return with pleasure.
The Queen told us she would hold entertainments after Easter and invited us. And then kind things — that I have intelligent eyes — so I am now easy in my mind. You know how it goes, one after another as at the dressmaker Laferrière’s: after us came the Appletcheieffs, and you know that madame was a woman of the streets. Besides, her manner is so far from correct that Mme d’Altavilla asked me with an odd look whether I could tell her who Mme Appletcheieff had been before her marriage. I said I knew nothing. Miranda is no longer at the embassy — his post has been abolished, and besides he has many enemies; it appears he is not very immaculate either. So he is done for — and we ought to have visited his daughter long since, which is why, when we arrived, Rosita and her father were delighted. I was very amiable on purpose, so they should not think their change of circumstances affects me.
Thanks to Saint-Amand there is much talk of the costume ball we are to give: it will be the finest of entertainments, a great success, everyone will speak of it; there will be the most prominent personalities, the most elegant women, the great names — more than two hundred guests. He has thoroughly set his mind on it. “The girl is elegant, pretty, intelligent, etc. etc. A success at Dalmas’s, then we must have the success of the evening, and then the painting.”
Saint-Amand is taking it all in hand.
I have a shoemaker called Delmas who turns my foot, small as it already is, into an object of curiosity. No one can understand how one walks in them — they are narrow, pointed, unnatural, but pretty and astonishing. This caused a kind of stupefaction among the ladies of the Palace; M. de Merced makes no secret of his amazement and stares at the foot. I do not even believe anyone finds it pretty — but it is extraordinary. And above all the heels are very low: with high heels it is easy to achieve, but then the shoe is wide and ugly.

Notes

The Queen: Queen Isabella II of Spain (1830–1904), who had been living in exile in Paris since 1868. She held court at the Palais de Castille and was a fixture of the Bonapartist social set. ↩