Friday, 16 March 1883

I dress and we go to pay calls — at the Gavinis', the Canroberts', Poleyff's, the Baronne Legoux's, the Comtesse Duros's. At Mme Legoux's I believed myself in one of Balzac's salons of "the queens of Paris." The most complete elegance. This woman of forty is magnificently beautiful; when we arrived there was only M. Guy de Marcilly, a rather plain young man but looking witty, who is her favourite. If Balzac were alive I would have adored him like God.