Sunday, 14 April 1878

We went to church in black; I take advantage of this week, in which Schaeppi will at last finish my portraits, to fulfil my religious duties. Then I go with Marie to the Madeleine, from which we bring back Mouzay. She tells me that I am failing to play my true role and Cassagnac too, that I am making a fool of myself, that he does not take me seriously, that I am not at all fulfilling the conditions of the programme she had set before him — in short, that I am drowning in trivialities while I could play every imaginable role, be a Mme Récamier — or better still! But I quite agree with her, I tell her so, I dress before her, I am ready to... in short, in two hours I pass through every extreme and so ravage my mind that here I am quite at a loss as to where and how I stand. M. d'Alt has just left. M. Multedo has just come in.
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 made me take that seat in horror; 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 had the skill to sweep all that away. But I assure you the situation was not pleasant. Well!
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
colours me by moments, but it is entirely physical — I warn you of this, whatever alarm you may conceive.
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 to mock it!! He perhaps thinks he is making fun of me... but he is mistaken — he is in the process of getting 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.
Then MM. de Plancy and Goldsmid. Multedo began by paying court to Dina, hoping I would go as I did yesterday and the day before and claim him — but I left him to it since there was Plancy, who is as good as he, so that seeing I did not even look at him, the conversation languished and ended by ending and becoming heavy and tedious to both of them, while I amused myself with the others, noticing from the corner of my eye the phases through which that wretched deputy and poor Dina — who was laughing inwardly — were passing. In short he departed with a smile on his lips and eyes cast down — you know that confused, embarrassed, pitiable smile...
I have humiliated him in my own eyes... he will console himself during his twenty-one days of military service. I do not do things by halves. And Mouzay's political salon... It turns my mind upside down and gives me a fever. I am good at this!... If it came to pass I should have nothing more to wish for — and that would not be natural. It could have been easily arranged, despite everything. If Cassagnac saw me through the other man's eyes — yes, but there it is! I was longing to make myself seen by Cassagnac all day long,
I looked pretty in black, for Cassagnac's sake — I committed the weakness of going to the Madeleine, I would have committed that of walking in the Champs-Élysées had all these people not come... and once they had left, Dina, Marie, and I, seated beside a balcony window in the most poetic moonrise, proceeded to dissect them so coldly, so cynically... no matter — my political salon....
My Emperor! It is the right phrase.
Blanc came in the evening — Blanc transformed, rejuvenated, smartened up — what reconciliation does for a man. He speaks of nothing else; eight days ago he had nothing but ill to say of him.
Think of it — what horror! Cassagnac has had enough of his Hungarian woman and wishes to marry! On this subject Dina declares herself mad about him and we discuss it. Blanc maintains that characters like Popaul and myself would make an ideal union — or else would throw carafes and glasses at each other's heads.
Ideal union... no, for I should be so afraid of him that... that I should make of my skin a carpet for his feet.
I cannot judge anything clearly; I do not know whether I would be lying in saying that something strange is happening within me — to use the technical term for analogous circumstances. If I were rich!!!! On the subject of riches — can you picture Paul de Cassagnac, that sort of great man, going in search of a dowry?! If that came to pass it would be cause to despair of the entire world! But it would be hideous, horrible! A man like him must not marry. I spoke before Blanc without embarrassment, having announced and repeated that I was no longer a woman and was looking at all of this from the mountaintop. It is the truth — come now!!
You know... there are thoughts I do not confess at present.
That is to say, there is Cassagnac. [Written across the page: Far too many. And I would have had Cassagnac. 1880]
Poor grandfather — he takes an interest in everything and suffers so greatly from being unable to speak. I understand him best; he was so happy this evening. I read him the newspapers and we all talked together in his room. For me it was a grief, a joy, a tenderness.
And now my vexation, my rage, my despair have no expression in human language!! If I had been drawing since the age of fifteen I should already be famous!!!
Do you understand?!!