Friday, 14 June 1878

I invited Mme Gavini to come to the Grand Prix with us, and I went to tell Mouzay about my journeys to Versailles; she told me in exchange that Cassagnac is riddled with debts, that he is getting married, and that Mme Presseq has returned to Algeria to be with her husband.
Gutter gossip. No matter... each time someone speaks to me of this marriage it is a fresh grief.
I find this in a book, and since it relates to certain things that have happened to me I copy it in full. How many times I have been ashamed in just this way... but read:
“For a timid and tender woman nothing can surpass the torment of having permitted herself, in the presence of a man, something which she believes she ought to blush for; I am convinced that a woman of some pride would prefer a thousand deaths. (One need not even be timid and tender for this.) A slight liberty taken on the tender side by the man one loves gives a moment of keen pleasure; if he seems to blame it, or merely to enjoy it without rapture, it must leave in the soul a dreadful doubt.
For a woman above the common there is therefore everything to gain in maintaining very reserved manners.
The game is unequal: one risks, against a small pleasure or against the advantage of appearing slightly more amiable, the danger of a burning remorse and a feeling of shame that must make even the beloved less dear. An evening spent gaily, carelessly, and without thinking of anything is dearly paid for at this price. The sight of a lover with whom one fears to have committed this kind of fault must become hateful for several days. Can one wonder at the strength of a habit whose slightest infractions are permitted only at the price of the most atrocious shame?”
Last night I had a quite pleasant dream. I dreamed that
Cassagnac and I were holding each other a little more than arm in arm... nothing indelicate — oh! no — but we were talking very close together... I nestled beside him as on that last evening at 10 bis, rue de Boulogne — fraternally, but so... sweetly.
And then there was a dog that followed me. A dog is a good sign. But the rest — bad... you see what Mouzay told me.
He is riddled with debts; he is marrying this young lady to get out of them, no doubt... what if I were to tell him: do not marry her — I am ready to marry you! And what if he were to answer no?
It was Mouzay who gave me this idea; she is convinced he would say yes. She does not see him as I see him — I see him larger than life, apparently.
What filth, this life!