On Saturday I dined with Martin at the Restaurant Italien and then we went to Buffalo Bill. Most lugubrious, for besides bad weather there was bad lighting and little to see. We left almost at once and went to the Bal Tabarin in "the ball of the models of the two salons."
Towards midnight there was a colossal crowd. Indeed I have never seen such a sight at a ball. A group of middle-aged married men on the loose like boys were near to us, and also a group of American girls in charge of a man. When the defile began it was impossible to move on the ground floor; the air was full of serpentins, and the band was deafening. The cocottes were perhaps not worthy of the occasion.
I left Martin there at 1.30, after having drunk more champagne than was absolutely necessary to sustain life. I got to Les Sablons at 12.30, dead.