Friday, 19 April 1878

We go to church, where I sin a great deal because I cannot help thinking that the evening spent at the Opéra with Multedo might have been what would it have been, then, if it had been with Cassagnac! I kept telling myself, instead of praying. He had whispered the number of his box in my ear, and I had promised to go there and to sup with him at Voisin’s... without any sort of Mme de Dailleurs, I assure you. And nothing would have prevented it if Mme Berthe Lancaster had not taken off her mask! Only think! That evening, that night, and then everything that might have followed.
But it would be him instead of Multedo.
written across the page
You see how highly I thought of this man! Dina was quite right to say that I believed him to be more than a man. I use very knowing expressions, and I am exquisitely innocent. The fact is that I would have done it just as I said — gone to supper, masked, with Cassagnac. Such trust I had!! And I would have lifted him above all those vulgar fears; I think too highly of myself to fear anything whatever, even at the Opéra ball, even at supper, even at night. And yet people say — Dina says — that it would be dreadful, because Cassagnac is by no means a god of purity... I believed he was, and I shall go on believing it.
And you think, you lugubrious cretins, you think it is something one forgets! And thereupon there I am, praying to the good Lord to arrange this matter for me. On the way out Maman talks with Princess Karageorges and her son, whom we met in Nice and in Ostend and who seem to wish to keep up the acquaintance. It is understood, of course, that I am posing; otherwise I should not be tearing at your ears while tearing at my soul over this mask, which will remain one of the great rages of my life. Wretched woman!
Blanc dined with us, and then, as Maman was busy elsewhere, Dina, he and I chat in the drawing room, and Dina keeps up her part as the woman in love with Cassagnac — whom, for that matter, we talk about almost all the time. Now they are playing piquet; I had fallen asleep on a sofa after this interesting conversation. It seems Cassagnac is a man who weeps on occasion. And Blanc adds that such men are generally a tremendous success with women. I know it. Dina kept on telling her fancies, so Blanc said she was working herself up for a joke, and that, besides, Cassagnac too has the sort of character to imagine any love whatever and to cultivate it until he makes it a real one.
You will never know how far, in certain respects, he is a child and naïve, just as in others he is cunning... the most cunning and the strongest of men. I would let two of my fingers be cut off to see him weep. What is certain is that the Polish girl is nonsense.
I say, it would be amusing to dream up a great love... I would study it as carefully as the most successful of my drawings; I would look for the planes, the construction, the half-tones — the general effect, in short! It would be as tightly worked as a Holbein, to whom I am compared. Tomorrow I am to take Communion; well, it seems to me that at that supreme moment, if I asked God for something, He would grant it. My first idea was to ask that — I shall not say it; you know what.
Then, thinking this was not serious enough, I meant to ask to become a great painter... and the last idea is to ask to be married magnificently and as soon as possible. Well, no — I would ask Him for the first thing, because I would be proud of it before everyone around me, and because I am vain enough to prefer that paltry thing to universal glory... Wait! Not at all — that thing will not prevent glory, and note that I am not choosing between the two: I desire the one and I expect the other. If it were a matter of choosing between them I would not hesitate, as you well know, and would give everything for my pride — for my glory, in short! It is settled: I shall ask Him tomorrow, and at such a moment He cannot do otherwise than grant it. 1880. To marry Cassagnac.
Blanc told me a hard truth. Men, he said, are more cowardly than you think. They are afraid of a woman who is too strong. But there is always a way of setting things right, he added, as I protested: one makes up for it by showing that the goddess steps down from her pedestal for a mere mortal... who is, quite naturally, flattered.
All the same, I shall ask the good Lord for it no later than tomorrow, and we shall see.