Tuesday, 12 March 1878

Would you believe what I am about to say? I shall tell you. It is that I would rather not see Cassagnac. Because I am afraid of being unable to converse. Do you know that on Sunday there was the beginning of a stupor which throws me into a panic! And that Dina, who was clumsy enough to tell me I looked sad. It is as though one told a nervous man during an epidemic that he looks unwell. I was certainly not in the least sad — but I was not in spirits. And I have an absurd, superstitious fear of turning dull-witted when he comes. Look — on Sunday he said fifty things about Suzanne, about the colonelle, and about others — and I took up none of it; whereas a month ago we would have made fireworks of it. Then again, he ought not to repeat himself.
This evening I suddenly invented a charming scheme that will refresh me — besides, the fear is beginning to pass — but all the same I should prefer not to see the venerable pontiff too soon.
Please do not think that any of this could for a moment make me forget drawing.
And here is the scheme again.
My dear Cigale,
I need to see you — come to the atelier as soon as possible. Your comrade, Marie.
She is a girl who no longer comes, who is studying and is about to make her debut at the Comédie-Française.
When I think of Pincio — who is truly lost now — my heart tightens. I loved him dearly, and losing him causes me perhaps as much grief as Walitsky’s death.
Above all when I think that the animal is in the hands of strangers, that he pines for me — and that I shall never see again his little face and those extraordinary black eyes and black nose...
Well, I am making myself cry now.
Oh! Good heavens — a thousand curses — whatever you like! I truly believe I would rather see Cassagnac and anyone else wounded, ill, gone to the devil, than never again see my dog, who loved me so dearly.
I feel genuine grief about it and I care nothing for all the rest.