Sunday, 9 May 1875

I go on having superb dreams. Yesterday it was giants: Mme Prodgers on horseback and Mme Vigier on a donkey, both five times life-size. Then Gioia, bigger still; that one I kissed. This means that my success will surpass my ambition, which is difficult, if not impossible.
Then I dreamed again of the theatre, always the same one (I see it so often that I could draw it), that Fritz was to sing, that Maman would not let me go, that I was begging Collignon.
Today I dreamed that I was going over the house of Blackprince, and so distinctly that I remember every room, every piece of furniture; there was the portrait of Rosalie Léon and the portrait of M. Rosalie Léon, he a very good likeness but upside down, and beside it yet another portrait of him, again upside down.
I was climbing stairs, which foretells endless bliss.
Well, if I believed everything my dreams foretell...
One thing saddens me, and every time I think of it, or am made to think of it, it suddenly darkens my mood. It is this idea that I shall marry Miloradovitch.
Then I might well blame Fate, like La Belle Hélène. Upon my word, if I marry him I shan’t hold back. But who is forcing me into this marriage? And yet what reason have I to refuse it?
God wills it, and to accomplish His will He puts into my head the idea that I am an old maid, or soon shall be, that we shall never live well. He inspires a thousand despairs in me to make me accept this union as a haven of safety.
Ah! who can resist His will, since He has every means at His disposal? Without wanting it I feel myself swept along, not just as a manner of speaking, but truly, quite truly swept along, so swept along that I can do nothing about it, as in a nightmare; and as in a nightmare too, when I was chased by a wolf: I ran, I ran on and on, but my legs grew weak, my heart pounded, I made an effort to run further, but my legs failed and gave way, I felt the ferocious beast coming closer, and I threw myself on the ground, saying to myself: well, let it eat me, after all it is only a dream and I shall wake up at the last moment.
And indeed, at the moment when I felt the wolf’s burning jaws near my face, I would wake up.
Sometimes too, when I was being chased, I would throw myself from the top of a staircase in order to wake up.
Well, it is like that nightmare: I have neither reason nor will; I am going to Russia, why? I say to buy horses and a fur, but I feel that fate is driving me there.
To the devil with black thoughts! I would rather tell the story of the fork expedition than busy myself with idle fancies.
From two until half past two I walk on the Promenade, on our side, not the sea side, without a hat, with Marie and Olga.
We were admiring the gardens of the little mauve houses; Rosalie’s is a love of a garden. I stop in front of Gioia’s; as she is not here and everything is shut, I pick some daisies by putting my arm through the railings, and we solemnly pluck their petals. O flower, I thought, you who come from her garden, from the garden where he has been, where he has walked, tell me once and for all: shall I ever be, at least once and in whatever circumstances, to him what she has been to him? I pull off all the petals on my side and the two girls on theirs, and one flower told me yes, and I raised my head with joy, vexation, shame and anger, but I raised it, for I was strangely satisfied.
This will make up to me for everything! And I spit on everything, now that such a thing is promised me.
I was not alone, I had to talk; we picked up a few pebbles on Rosalie’s terrace, we took a few leaves from Gioia’s, again through the railings, and went back home laughing and chattering.
We go up to my study and I make this speech: My dears, we are founding a freemasonry; you know, this society has for its aim the cornering of young men. For the moment we are only three; in time each of us will recruit. Every society has had a beginning. We are going to compose a philtre, which will be divided into three parts; each of us will receive one.
My proposal accepted with enthusiasm, we prepare the philtre or talisman: Seltzer water, the pebbles and the leaves we had, which come from two places propitious to what we want; and besides that, each of us, pricking her finger with Spartan courage, poured in three drops of her blood. The whole boiled and dissolved by a chemical process. And now, I said, let us swear, and I shall tell you our motto and our seal. Three Graces holding up a ribbon garlanded with roses, on which this motto will be written: Audacter et amanter. Which means boldly and tenderly.
The second speech produced the same effect as the first; we swore, and having carefully hidden the potion, we went downstairs, tidied ourselves a little and went out.
What we are reduced to, Mercator! For want of anything better, we have picked out three American greenhorns who study at Wash’s school. It is unworthy of us!
Now for the fork. In the evening, having put on great conspirators’ cloaks, we steal out furtively like the thieves we are, as will be seen, hiding under these cloaks, I a fork, Marie a knife and Olga nothing at all. As if on purpose, the moon is shining. It is annoying, but no matter.
We pass the Villa Gioia and, as if nothing were afoot, Marie gives several stabs with the knife between two of the rustic stones that form the terrace; we pass once more, and this time, quick as... me, yes, as me, I plunge in my fork and draw out with it my trophy, a tiny little cactus which we had noticed and resolved to steal only this afternoon. A cactus the size of a twenty-sou piece. But how proud we were! We went straight to the garden and I planted the stolen thing, saying: Grow, prosper, I shall give you a name worthy of you; in time I shall set a label beside you, as is done for rare plants, and on it I shall write:
The thieves’ plant.
How happy I am, my God, to be able to busy myself with nonsense! Marie proposes stealing all Gioia’s little cactuses from her, whereupon I go so far as to propose taking Gioia herself and putting her in our pond. It is truly a happy thing to be able to be everything.
Old woman and child, silly and witty, I howl with the wolves... not always, though: I cannot bear nasty people, and among the nasty I do not turn nasty, or if I do, it is very much in spite of myself.

Notes

In English in the original. ↩
In Offenbach’s La Belle Hélène (1864) Helen blames every lapse on “la fatalité”. ↩
In Latin in the original: portus salutis. ↩
In English in the original. ↩
In Latin in the original: Planta furum. ↩