Thursday, 14 March 1878

The newspapers say that the ball passed five centimetres from Paul de Cassagnac’s face, and that the advantage was with M. Andrieux who was better placed, and that Paul de Cassagnac fired without turning sideways, his chest completely exposed.
I speak of this to you because I have an idea that you follow with interest this gentleman’s appearances in my story. And of what else should I speak to you, if not of the living subject — but in fact... when you read me, we shall perhaps all have been dead and forgotten for twenty years, for it is only after a longer time that reputations definitively rise again and are consecrated by history.
At moments I am still very much afraid to see Cassagnac again. By the way! I went to the costumier of the Théâtre-Français with Cigale. On that note — good evening to you, Bonapartists and Republicans: when you read me, the Prince Imperial will be dead — on the throne or elsewhere — and there will perhaps be neither Empire nor Republic. Who knows what there will be.
Charitable souls, remember Popaul, and in his honour hold a little séance. Call me up and let me speak — I who love life and the living so dearly. Do not laugh it off; I adjure you to do what I say, and I beseech you. It is likely I shall have written so much and have nothing to tell — but do it for me.
Breslau asked me for advice on her figure study.
Etienne’s portrait irritates me to the highest degree.
I hope a time will come when people will pay attention to me — they do now, but I am speaking of the newspapers and the general public. For I am a little vexed at paying attention to others while being nothing myself — not even a woman people pay attention to. It is true that for nearly five months now I have been seen by not a living soul, apart from the few wretched dowry-hunters who come to our house. I absolutely except Blanc; as for the other, there is no point even mentioning it. Let us console ourselves... In Rome, despite many things, it was not bad; in Naples Larderel had annihilated me — I saw nothing and no one. Since then I have lived hidden, and in my retreat there may be... but that is not interesting. I am so afraid of being taken for a woman who always falls flat. It is true that I have never had occasion to make a brilliant marriage, but as for pleasing — I believe I please well enough in general. Come now, my dear — in the name of your dignity as a woman, do not excuse yourself.

Notes

Femme à fours: from theatre slang faire four, to flop: a woman whose efforts to please fall flat. ↩