Sunday, 28 May 1882

The Duchess of Fitz-James came yesterday to say she would present us that evening at her daughter-in-law the Duchess of Fitz-James's — there was a ball. Maman assures me this old lady is the most amiable of women and asks nothing better than to be our guide in society. They see each other quite often, but I know nothing exactly about it — always preoccupied with that confounded painting. So we go to collect her and arrive together.
The very height of elegance — genuine society, truly ravishing and fresh young women. Real gowns. The old Duchess has I do not know how many nephews and grandchildren. Her granddaughter Mme de Turenne [Crossed out: is no longer young] is twenty-nine, and the other, Mme de Miramon, has a son of seven [blackened words: the old Duchess's great-grandchild.]
The names I heard spoken are the most famous and most aristocratic, and the few people I know by sight are the most elegant of all. As for me, I am cruelly bored.
For one thing, I am not properly dressed — the gown is pretty but not for a ball; the feeling of this inferiority makes me dull. And besides I know no one, and all these young people have been dancing together all winter, and most of the young women are on familiar terms with one another. The hosts are all one could wish for amiable, and we are introduced to ladies, gentlemen are introduced to me, I dance but... awkwardly... and you can imagine what a stupor this situation put me in. Subdued. I was not at my best and knew no one, so I received no cotillion favours — and I leave well before the end, besides. And that dress gave me such an unpleasant look!... In short, it is rare that one enjoys oneself when one arrives suddenly like that into an unknown society, having not gone out all winter and knowing not a soul — but when one has all one's faculties about one, one can cut a figure... I was neither properly dressed, nor prepared, nor coiffed... I had imagined it would be a little ball [sic] in high-necked gowns and regretted my semi-low neckline.
And I was thinking the whole time about a pastel done that morning which haunts me as a failure. Besides, one cannot go out like that... I would need at least two months of society to train myself back into it... I am unsocialized, tired, sad, and all that... A year spent shut away, then a ball drops on your head and you are bewildered, then another six months of silence. And to be frank... no doubt I rage at never having had a young girl's life, and I would have gone into society out of vanity — but at bottom, do you think it amuses me?... Is anything more stupid, more hollow, more dull! To think there are people who live for nothing else! I would want it rarely — just enough to be in the current of things, like famous men, for example, who go only to relax, but often enough not to look like savages from the ends of the earth.

Notes

Trophées au cotillon: in the cotillion, a fashionable ball dance, participants received small favours or prizes; failing to receive any marked social invisibility.