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 ruche 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 me.
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 towards his own, in his hauteur and insolence towards others.
And how they watched him — the women especially... I do believe he is the leader of the party of France’s second good society (the first being the Legitimists). 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 towards 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 — and history 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 wistfully 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 on the few public occasions when I have had the chance 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.
Yes, yes, what you say... you say nothing, besides, but I swear on Pincio’s head (that seems foolish to you — not to me) that I shall be famous. I swear, I swear in all seriousness, I swear on the Gospel, on the Passion of Christ, on myself that in four years I shall be famous — and in four years Paul de Cassagnac will be thirty-eight and fat and heavy, written across the page He is thirty-eight, I am twenty-two, and I am famous only in the society papers. They treat me as nearly a great artist, but it is not what I had hoped for. while I shall be young and pretty! I do not feel the presence of other celebrities, even far greater ones, because I have never been near them and have had no occasion to see them otherwise than as beings apart — in books or in newspapers.
On the subject of superstition: I had twice spoiled drawings while sitting beside Kennedy, which had given me a horror of that seat; since then I have been placed beside her and succeeded perfectly. It is encouraging — you see that all these great terrors may after all amount to nothing.
Multedo is not at all rich. That is certain. We have just undergone a veritable assault. M. Georges arrived with a crowd of men, drunk like him. They rang the bell for more than a quarter of an hour; it was Triphon who deftly swept the whole lot away. But I assure you the situation was not pleasant. Well, there it is!
M. de Morgan, Multedo, and Goldsmid in the evening. Multedo thinks I love him. The fool. But I submit to these homages and his love rubs off on me at moments — but it is entirely physical, I warn you, however much it may alarm you.
Ah! If only it were someone else... Multedo is not rich — what do you expect me to do with him! How I make fun of him, and how pleasant it is to play this comedy and mock him!! He perhaps thinks he is making fun of me... but he is mistaken — he is getting himself thoroughly caught... if he does not think me very rich... but I have disillusioned him, I told him I am not rich, the occasion having presented itself.