Monday, 26 August 1878

One was made two years ago; the man sits astride a chair. The other is quite recent — Monsieur sits in an armchair and appears to be clinging to it. The first bears, in my own hand, the word: Before; the second, After. Like the advertisements for hair-restoring oils. There are also two mottoes: En Avant! and J'y suis, j'y reste. But I have placed these images so as to conceal them in shadow, behind the curve of the screen that makes way for the candelabra.
I have resumed my work with all the ardour and love that come of a long rest and the impatience with which I awaited this day. Among the old hands there is scarcely anyone but Amélie and three or four colourless Frenchwomen. The others have gone to the sea. I have just read, in the space of three hours, a very romantic novel by Octave Feuillet — Le journal d'une femme. The title had seduced me.
Will I never love anyone? Have I ever loved? Do I love? Octave Feuillet is to blame. Is the Deceased the superior man I imagined, or merely a vile journalist? What does the world think of him? I should dearly like to know, so that I might at last affix a label.
But it seems to me that I am bound to this man — and there! I wish it were [true].

Notes

"J'y suis, j'y reste" (I am here, I stay here) was a phrase attributed to Marshal MacMahon at Sebastopol in 1855, when ordered to abandon a captured position. Paul de Cassagnac adopted it as his political motto.
Le journal d'une femme (1878) by Octave Feuillet (1821–1890) is the diary of a married woman torn between conjugal duty and romantic passion — a premise that would naturally captivate Marie.