Friday, 17 May 1878

I would gladly turn Communard just to blow up every house — every family interior!..
One ought to love one’s home — and there is nothing sweeter than resting there, dreaming of other things one has done, of people one has seen... but to rest eternally! To see nothing but this wretched harem — Marie, Dina, Maman, my aunt — in the midst of whom strolls, drags herself, the favourite sultana with her guzlas, her trombones, her devil-knows-whats!
The day from eight to six passes somehow by working — but the evenings!!
I will sculpt in the evenings... so as not to think that I am young, that time is passing, that I am bored, that I am in revolt, that it is dreadful!
How curious it is, though — people who have no luck, either in love or in business.
In love it was my fault — I worked myself into a passion over some, abandoned others... but in business.......... If only I had had the luck — we could have had a most interesting salon with Paul de Cassagnac, my independence, my originality. Women lead him? Mlle Acard — Mlle Acard leads him! A French girl, a Mlle Acard, a Claire or a Mathilde... a Suzanne perhaps!
If I were someone else I would lead him, and we would have a pack of Bonapartist dogs; and if that other had my wit... (if you knew how my wit wearies and exasperates me!) she would become a centre, a sort of celebrity... But it is I. I am charming, well-made, witty, educated — but... It is I, and all of that counts for nothing.
It is true that to realise this dream one would need a different position, a different style of household... then the Gascon Cassagnac would behave quite differently, and would not object to presiding over a proper salon — to playing M. Thiers at the Princesse Troubetzkoy’s.
Is it that, or is it something else — what does it matter, since the result is pitiful and atrocious.
I shall go now and weep and pray to God to arrange this matter for me... It is very original to converse with the good Lord, but it does not make him any kinder to me. If God were to do everything one asks of him!... But others do not know how to ask... I have faith, I implore...
No doubt I do not deserve it.
I believe I shall die soon.

Notes

In French in the original: communarde. ↩