Monday, 19 September 1881

Yesterday evening at the casino — a parterre of ravishing young women and their outfits. Dancing, conversation; among those dancing not one was thirty. A dazzlement [word blacked out: of youth] and of light and elegant dress. We stayed only a little while — not knowing a single soul; all one could do was show oneself, and I did, and I think I was pretty and well dressed. The Basilevitch was dancing; the Martinoffs were walking on the terrace. There are about fifteen Russians — including these ladies — who
know each other. As for us, we are alone, and there is no hope of that changing. Old Nervo, from Nice, is here, and the Francias as well. And the Basilevitch. I do not say these people will speak monstrosities of us — but they know how things stood in Nice and in Paris. There are beings who with worse things against them than we have, have not had the misfortune of being ostracized from Nice society. And those who go to Nice go everywhere — and then the papers at the Russian Embassy — but without Nice it would still be nothing. [Word blacked out: and once] it is established that things are as they are, there is nothing to be done, all the more since we have been able to do nothing to change it. And women alone! And add to that my wild way of making myself conspicuous and arousing envy!… My father is right: he says that once the lawsuit is settled he will arrange everything… But all this will come very late… if it comes at all. I have told this story a hundred times. I wonder what I was imagining when I came here!… Does one ever know! And yet — if only the Basilevitch were with us, all would be well. Maman and my aunt maintain… yes, at the beginning in Paris she invited us to her house; we did not go… but it is not for that reason… Besides she is no better than we are — she simply has luck and no lawsuit… But one sees every day that men marry dancers, adventuresses, fallen women… But I am not enough [of one thing] to be among those women, and not enough [of another] either… Ah! They are right not to believe that I refuse the Multedos and others — a heap proposed to me by Gavini and Bailleul, and illustrious names and alliances. It is indeed incredible that I do not want them, living as I live; only there is always the mad hope of finding someone who will marry me for love, and then this reflection: I shall always be able to find a titled man who will take me for my dot. Ah! How unhappy I am! Ah! If only someone could be found… How devoted a wife I would be, and how I would love this savior! Ah! It is too cruel to suffer these petty yet dreadful things. And when I review my life! Ah! My God… My mothers see this desolating loneliness… But they can do nothing about it, and besides they do not fully realize… I am in the process of dying from it… Yes — a blow from a club sometimes does not kill; one can recover from it — but this slow, continuous poison… Ah! How terrible it is, how I want to live! And what a dreadful thing it is to be conscious of everything — a whole youth wasted, and always the hope that it is going to end, and then never, never — and telling oneself one will die without having had anything, but… in the end is it not all the same, the end is
the same. O no, no, no. You will understand that I shall not make the acquaintance of people who easily make acquaintance at spas — in the end God-knows-whats — and proper people reason as I do, consequently. I had almost resolved to leave for Spain, but Maman has just telegraphed to old Mrs. Gavini — I infer this from Father Gavini's telegram: "Leaving for Paris; if Mme Gavini's presence not necessary, will prevail upon her to accept your kind invitation — thanks and regards!" Maman hopes that old Mrs. Gavini will make existence more bearable for us — but I detest when she makes these approaches; it always ends stupidly! Obviously the thing will be arranged so that Mme Adeline comes to stay with us — they managed it for Berthe at Dieppe, Berthe who was good for nothing except getting us to make fools of ourselves.

Notes

Parterre: literally a formal garden bed of flowers; used here figuratively for the assembled company.