Tuesday, 29 January 1878

I was so frightened of the competition that it took poor Rosalie superhuman efforts to get me out of bed. I expected either to receive the medal or to be ranked among the very last. Neither one nor the other. I have stayed in the same place as two months ago — which means it is a flop... If I have not risen, it is Cassagnac’s fault. I shall make him pay for it — with his Colonelle!

He was so rakish and so amusing showing his portrait as a Zouave: the Colonelle admires the little Zouave¹ like a connoisseur.

I went to visit Breslau, who is still unwell. I promised Cassagnac an ivory sole — but he would put it into... the common grave. I shall have my feet painted with all their imperfections.