Tuesday, 12 February 1878

I was deceived as to the hour so they could take my place, and then Amélie and two other scoundrels maintained that they had told me nothing and that I had deceived myself.
This lie, like all lies, revolted me — all the more so since, I must say to the credit of the human race, those whom I had defended in the affair of the Swiss girls did not so much as utter a word to say I was right.
I say this so that it may be known; otherwise I have no need of protection — I only protest when I am in the right.
This morning I could not work at all; I could see nothing, and in the afternoon Berthe came, and I gave myself leave. She is mad about her Englishman, and I believe that one of these days we shall disguise ourselves and follow him, to find out whether he is deceiving Berthe. We would be accompanied at a distance by Popaul... the pretext for bringing him is excellent. I have the attractive (?) role — my friend is in love, she wants to assure herself of this man's word, her happiness depends on it, I risk myself out of devotion, etc., and at the same time I have occasion to write to Cassagnac. But... that rogue Berthe is quite capable of getting herself recognized and relating that she is the one making the sacrifice for Cassagnac and me. After the mask, I distrust her, and I will never forgive her — never, never, never, never. In all things it falls to me to spoil matters; well, this time I have at least the satisfaction of saying it is not my fault, and that is some relief.
At around seven o'clock I telegraphed Cassagnac to come if he could this evening to the Italiens — we have things to discuss with him.