Wednesday, 24 July 1878

Dr Tomachewsky, who is the physician of the Petersburg Opera, must know something — moreover his opinions agree with those of Fauvel and others; and I myself know that the Soden waters, by their chemical composition, have almost no bearing on my malady. If you are not ignorant, you must know that it is convalescents and consumptives who are sent to Soden. Yesterday at six in the morning my aunt and I, accompanied by Dr Tomachewsky, went to Ems to consult the doctors there. We have been back since eight o’clock this morning.
The Empress Eugénie is at Ems — poor woman. I detest Soden: being tedious it is useless to me, harmful even, since it is a waste of time.
I am vexed at having passed through Mainz and Koblenz like an idiot. They are such interesting towns from the historical point of view. But we admired the banks of the Rhine, for, having missed a train, we travelled by carriage and by boat as well.
Napoleon (the real one) made ruins of the fortresses one sees right and left on the heights. This might give rise to paradoxes about the Germans with their useful fortresses and the French with their beautiful ruins.
Here is another letter from Multedo, sent from Mont-de-Marsan on the 22nd, the very day I returned his counsels to him. I make a point of noting that he wrote me this a day before receiving them. It may be repentance, but it may also be calculation: when writing the first he already had the second in mind. No matter... besides, I am beginning to believe he adores me, because I hate him. With me that is a sure symptom.
Copied letterLettre d’A. Multedo à Marie, Mont-de-Marsan, 22 juillet 1878
Mont-de-Marsan 22 July 1878 Mademoiselle, Your severity towards me is driving me mad. You must judge from this how wholly you fill my thoughts, and consequently pity me for my moral sufferings instead of holding my fits of anger against me. Please, then, excuse the acrimony of my last letter; in writing it I was furious at the cruel needle-thrusts you had dealt me in yours, and I acted like a wounded boar lashing out blindly with its tusks. You had debased me: I suffered, I howled. Forgive me! I shall cry out no more. Henceforth make me suffer, torture me, spurn me with your foot, and, if you grant me that favour, I shall prostrate myself before you. I beg you, forget. Besides, I foresee it: you are so proud and so haughty that you did not feel wounded, and my retort reached only your supreme disdain. Once again, forgive me. I kneel before you with my lips to the ground. Respectful homage of my most devoted sentiments. A. MULTEDO
written across the page
I shall not critique the letter — there would be too much to say. The amiable man, the troubadour, wishes to be tragic. He does not succeed. The passionate phrases are followed by a respectful homage etc. — which produces a nearly comic effect.
Monsieur Rumbelinsky comes back from Paris this evening; besides, here is a letter I addressed to Maman this evening, which will tell you everything. I ask her to keep the letter, which is badly written but expresses my thought and gives good advice; she will return it to me and I shall pin it to this page. [Missing]
Madame Gavini is so kind to Maman that I am writing her a letter?
I have an idea about the Rembelinskys or the Antonskys, who may be of use to me...
Berthe writes that Julie de Benkendorff has killed herself. You remember this Julie — this madwoman — married to an embassy secretary, living at a breakneck pace for eighteen months, then the sale of all the furniture, bailiffs, the husband’s departure for the army, the wife’s for Paris where she wished to go on the stage, scandals, miseries, and finally a pistol shot at Boulogne.
Dr Michel tells Maman that they are going to print something charming in L’Événement about Cassagnac and his wife, to the effect that she had been the mistress of Clément Laurier...
Clément Laurier, you will remember well, who lent his wife to Gambetta while the latter was Dictator and who made that enormous fortune... following that a sort of one hardly knows what, an Orleanist, I believe.

Notes

Empress Eugénie (1826-1920), widow of Napoleon III, lived in exile after the fall of the Second Empire in 1870. ↩