Monday, 4 March 1878

My dog has been lost since Saturday. I kept hoping he would come back.
Not one of those wretched creatures who make up my so-called family has done anything; they have merely carried on with their idiotic petty torments!!
Yesterday that dreadful man came again. I made a scene with my mothers, and they — instead of supporting me, instead of doing their duty as decent women — turned against me, full of idiotic recriminations, stupidities, and revolting injustice. I am treated as a moral monster, a criminal, God knows what — because I revolt against the horrors, the infamies, the filth with which this man covers us. Merciful God! For a moment I was ready to flee the house.
I would have deposited my papers with Cassagnac and gone to live anywhere. But unfortunately the diamond I could have counted on was at my mother’s. The vile creatures! The cowards! The criminals!
No — it is not possible; they have lost their reason; otherwise it is inconceivable.
My poor dog — if I had any room left for any feeling, I would be devastated. There is a ball at the Elysée this evening.
My poor lost dog.
If I were to die for all that I lack, for all that I do not have...
What a household! What a family — what a life!
Berthe and Yorke — who treat us quite as their friends — came around six o’clock to ask for a cup of tea.
They are kind and charming, and as friendly as women can be — you know that women’s friendship is an entirely chimerical thing. But I detest them deeply, and more and more so, for the business of the mask at Paul de Cassagnac’s.
It is a disagreeable position — to despise all those around you, when those around you are either wretches or lunatics.
Now I believe I am a misunderstood being!
That is the height of stupidity — for it is the most abominable thing one can think of oneself. A hundred thousand pretensions, not one of them justified. One knocks against everything and comes away bruised.
I have given Rosalie my brown frock, which brought me bad luck — or which at least served as the shelter under which all my tears of rage have been shed these two years.