The Maréchale Canrobert and her daughter come to call. The Maréchale is of an exquisite kindness to us — she wishes to take me to the ball this evening, and then to stand in for Maman during her absence… Such kindness I am unaccustomed to; it is almost embarrassing. She wants to take me out, to shake me up, to amuse me. To be escorted by the Maréchale herself — there is a certain flattery in it that I am not about to refuse. Mme Gavini visited, with Père Géry and a journalist-poet named Ducros who dined. Then in the evening the Maréchale called for me — the Vatry ball. I had tried the dress on six times and it was a disaster each time. I had to invent a story about a lost letter; one must manage these things somehow. As for Bastien — he did not come. He maintains this perfect indifference, or what looks like it. I never know any more whether it is genuine or a performance.