Friday, 20 January 1882

A very pretty soirée yesterday at the Comtesse de Kessler's — the German ambassador, the Turkish ambassador; the German element dominated naturally, so that when I complained of my cold to one of my partners, he told me with a very knowing air that one does not dance with one's nose, but with one's feet. And this accompanied by the most amiable smile. Étincelle was there, as was the Marquise de Lambertye, a former building contractor enormously rich who, having married the Marquis de Lambertye, entertains very well.

She came to our soirée with Mme de Kessler; we are invited to her Wednesdays. Then a Baroness de Patlingen from the Austrian embassy... [blacked out: plain] and frequenting Mme Turro — a society woman of loose morals in the end. And others who were very amiable toward us. Our soirée has had a great effect, in any case. I am very much asked to dance, but always out of caution I [words blacked out: only dance] four or five times; eleven partners refused, among them little Fleury, the General's son, with whom we talk and who is very pleasant — we have often met at Dalmas's with the Gavinis and again at our soirée. One also makes the acquaintance of the beautiful Mme Gautreau, who has the most beautiful body in the world and a head like a Jean Goujon nymph. She dyes her eyebrows and her face in a way that makes her horribly resemble a shop mannequin — but no matter; she is so beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful, so majestic, sublime with her great serene brow... Admirable. I praised Mme Bernardaki; well, this one surpasses her by far. One cannot imagine more beautiful shoulders, a more admirably attached neck, a more beautiful bosom. She exposes herself greatly, but without indecency; a low neckline is indecent only on badly made women, where the flesh bulges, pressed or displaced by the corset.

Seated near her I peered into the bodice and saw that the form is truly divine. The feet short and thick, it seemed to me — that would be a pity.

I am so tormented — I am getting nothing done here; I want to leave, and yet I want to finish this portrait, and [words blacked out: there are] such thick fogs that one can barely see at all.