Saturday, 13 April 1878

I went there nonetheless, after seeing Robert-Fleury compliment maman, who had come to fetch me, on her daughter.
I was entirely in black, slender and extremely graceful; a black straw hat with feathers, slightly Directoire. Never have I had a slimmer waist. I shall describe this bodice to you, for I shall have to wear it often. You know that my corset is very low, since that sort of support would only give stiffness to a marvellous figure. Imagine a straight dress; then imagine that on each side a drawstring is passed from the waist to the neck; pull these strings and folds will form that take the figure admirably and taper from top to bottom. The joining of these two panels forms a gather towards the middle of the bodice, which is lined with satin. The waist is cinched with a ribbon fastened with a copper buckle. But the whole clings so perfectly, is so simple, so graceful, so beautiful that I do justice to this marvel and to those who created it: Caroline and I.
The rest of the dress is ordinary enough and offends neither fashion nor fools.
I shall not describe the funeral to you; you know how such things proceed, whereas you do not know how a bodice is made that looks perfectly simple and is a masterpiece.
Cassagnac, towering a half-head above all the others, stood very close to the catafalque and seemed to say to the astonished onlookers: You see these flags, these men, this coffin, this party — well, it is I who sustain all of this.
Joking aside, he was superb in his greatness and tenderness toward his own, in his hauteur and insolence toward others.
And how they watched him — the women especially... I do believe he is the chief of the party of the second good society (the first being the Legitimists) in France. He is above all the chief of his party for the women; besides, the best thing about the Bonapartists is their gallantry and chivalrous manners toward the fairer half of the human race. I say all this so that no one will accuse me of seeing in Paul de Cassagnac the greatest man in the world simply because he is handsome. There are so many scoundrels and malicious people who will not acknowledge merit in handsome men or discernment in young women. None of those who know me have my figure, but many others have seen it nonetheless.
It is very warm; we stay for a moment before the church to watch the cortège depart. Meanwhile Blanc, whom I detest, approaches our carriage and among other things recounts that he has made peace with Popaul, who is passing at that moment in a group of men.
How I envy that Paul de Cassagnac!! And in my anger I picture him as the only man on earth; the others are mere wretches. Besides, it was already my opinion when I said a year ago that Audiffret was a man, "certainly not like Cassagnac — but Cassagnac would not be so if there were more like him."
Now people smile — but we shall see what history will say, which is neither a handsome man nor a young woman.
No matter — I have not as much enthusiasm for Paul de Cassagnac as I have sadness at having lost Pincio, and if you see me gazing melancholically at an album, it is the one in which I made some sketches of my poor, my dear, my beloved dog.
Just as it is impossible to convey how moving and formidable Paul de Cassagnac is in the few
public occasions I have had the opportunity to see him, so I shall never know how to convey how sweet, original, amusing, and affectionate my dog was — but ask all those who knew him... And besides he was particularly attached to me, which is what I miss most.
You perhaps think I am laughing? May the plague choke you then! I laugh, but I weep too.
Is it not maddening to see all those around me — but that would be nothing — but to have seen that crowd today and all those I have ever encountered looking at Paul de Cassagnac as a sort of great man! Wait, wait — I too must become great. I am nineteen; to the world I am eighteen — let us say eighteen. Well then: at twenty-two I shall be famous or dead. Neither the one nor the other.
You perhaps think that one works only with the eyes and fingers! You, who are bourgeois, will never know what sustained attention, continuous comparisons, calculations, feeling, and reflection it takes to achieve something.