Mrs. Burke does look badly. I must take better care of her. Cyrus looks badly, too. I haven't seen him to talk to since he made his "strictly business" proposition. I suppose he wants me to realize that he isn't one of the pestering kind. I'm sorry he takes it that way, as I'd have liked to be friends with him. He quarreled so beautifully when we didn't agree. It's a great satisfaction to have some one at hand who both agrees and quarrels in a satisfactory way. But I don't dare make any advances to him. He might misunderstand.
I've just been laughing—at his cowlick. It is such an obstinate little swirl. And when he looks serious it looks so funnily frisky, and when he smiles it looks so fiercely serious and disapproving. Yesterday I hurried suddenly into the little room just off the ball-room, thinking it was empty. But Cyrus and his mother were there, and he was tickling her, and he looked so fond of her, and she looked so delighted. I slipped away without their seeing me.
February 16. We gave our second big ball last night with a dinner for sixty before. It was just half-past five this morning when the last couple came sneaking out from the alcove off the little room beyond the conservatory and, we pretending not to see them, scuttled away without saying good night. Major-General Cutler danced with Mrs. Burke in the opening quadrille, and Mr. Burke danced with the British ambassadress—the ambassador is ill. I had Jim on my hands most of the evening—though I was flirting desperately with little D'Estourelle, he hung to me with a maddening husbandish air of proprietorship. I don't see how I ever endured him, much less thought of marrying him. Cyrus Burke is a king beside him. Excuse me from men who think the fact that they've done a woman the honor of loving her gives them a property right to her. Mrs. Burke was the belle of the ball. She had a crowd of men round her chair all evening, laughing at everything she said.
February 17. A cable from Robert Gunton at Hamburg this morning—just "Arrive Washington about March 3." That was all—worse than nothing. It is Lent, but there's no let up for us. We only get rid of the kind of entertainments that cost us the least trouble to plan and give, and we have to arrange more of the kind that have to be done carefully. Anybody can give a dance, but it takes skill to give a successful dinner.
February 19. Nadeshda's sister said to-day, quite casually, to Jessie: "Deshda's coming back, and we're so glad. The trip has done her so much good—in every way." Now, whatever did that mean?
VI
February 26. No news of Robert and Nadeshda. Have been glancing through this diary. How conceited I am, taking credit to myself for everything. I wonder if I am vainer than most people, or does everybody make the same ridiculous discovery about himself when he takes himself off his guard? What an imperfect record this is of our launching. But then, if I had made it perfect I should have had to go into so many wearisome details, not to speak of my having so little time. Still, it would have been interesting to read some day, when I shall have forgotten the little steps—for although we've had in all only a month before the season and five weeks between New Year's and Ash Wednesday, so much has been crowded into that time. It's amazing what one can accomplish if one uses every moment to a single purpose. And I've not only used my own time, but Robert's and Jessie's and the time of their and my friends, and that of Nadeshda and a dozen other people. They and I all worked together to make my enterprise a success—and Jim and the Senator, and "ma" Burke was a great help after the first few weeks. Yes, and I mustn't forget Cyrus. He has made himself astonishingly popular. I see now that he showed a better side to every one than he did to me. Perhaps I can guess why. I wonder if he really cares or did care—for me, or was it just "ma" trying to get me into the family, and he willing to do anything she asked of him?
But to go back to my vanity—I see that Jessie, Rachel and Cyrus were the real cause of my success. Jessie and Rachel alone could make anybody, who wasn't positively awful, a go. Then Nadeshda, bent on marrying Cyrus at first, was a big help—and every mama with a marriageable daughter was hot on Cyrus' trail. So it's easy to make an infallible recipe for getting into society: First, wealth; second, willingness to act on competent advice; third, get a "secretary" who knows society and has intimate friends in its most exclusive set, and who also knows how to arrange entertainments; fourth, have a marriageable son, if possible, or, failing that, a daughter, or, failing that, a near relative who will be well dowered; fifth, organize the campaign thoroughly and pay particular attention to getting yourself liked by the few people who really count. You can't bribe them; you can't drive them; you must amuse them. The more leisure people have the harder it is to amuse them.