Monday, 18 February 1878

This afternoon the model is bad — a poor excuse which I seize upon to give this week to Schaeppi, who will paint my portrait.
Instead of working, we go with the Boyds to Alexis. What can I tell you but that it is astonishing. I gave him a letter from Cassagnac, took him by the hand and thought very hard about everything I wanted him to tell me. He told me that he is a tall, strongly built, dark man with a remarkable face. That he is in love with me, that I frighten him a little, but that he has no thought of marrying me. That I love him too.
— Like a brother?
— Oh! No, far more.
— Am I in love with him?
— No — or only moderately so. But you think extremely well of him.
Then he tells me that on Thursday at six o’clock I came to see him at his home, that there were two people with me and the third had separated from us at his door. That he was in undress and was expecting two men who were to come in evening dress. That recently there had been a sort of shock — that he was jealous, or hurt in his friendship. That he has for me a great affection and genuine friendship, and not much beyond. That on Saturday he did not go to the Opéra ball by deliberate choice, from fatigue — nothing definite. That the fair-haired woman who was at the front of the box meant nothing to him and that he had enough of his mistress, with whom he has nearly broken... that he thinks extremely well of me and will probably come this evening.
I asked him whether the woman in the box was in a magnetic sleep. No. Why did she not speak to me? Because she did not dare.
We also questioned him about my brother Paul, and Berthe about her arm, etc. etc., Mme Yorke about her husband. I would like a private session, and for the man not to be worn out and pestered with any number of questions.
I asked whether the gentleman in question was involved in politics.
— Yes — it is his profession.
— And his name?
— Is double.
— How double?
— His name is never spoken alone; one always adds his given name, which consists of four letters.
— Come now — since you see him, say his name; you must know who it is, and the name as well.
— His name is Paul.
— Good.
I gave him some of Grandpapa’s hair; he described his illness and the causes of his illness.
And now I feel that I helped him along with my questions. He said that Cassagnac was surprised and hurt on Thursday evening. I believe it.

Notes

Alexis: a celebrated Parisian clairvoyant (somnambule) who worked by psychometry — holding objects or touching the hands of his clients. ↩