Wednesday, 28 August 1878

Last night it seemed to me clear as day that I was about to die very soon, and I rose to write the two words I triply underlined in the darkness. Dourassoff came to dine; he left filled with respect, having heard Maman speak of the Emperor and the court and the mass at the Palace. And so on. This woman has touched everything and kept nothing.
Here is a copy of Le Pays which I commend to you especially, regretting only that you cannot appreciate it, not knowing the Deceased. For me it is as if I could hear him — the speeches of Paul de Cassagnac gain a hundredfold when heard aloud, just as M. de Broglie's gain by being read. All this fanfare for a banquet: if the Republicans were to announce theirs with such large type, there would not be paper enough in France.
You perhaps think me very furious... you are mistaken. If I were forced to fall into a rage, I should have to die of it. A small anger is not worthy of the subject — I can remain indifferent. It is as fortunate as it is astonishing. I account for it thus: I see myself so far from what I might have brushed against that I do not even take the trouble to grow angry. I see before me no compensations, no revenge, no hope on the horizon. Before this void and the absolute futility of any demonstration, I remain calm — and then... I await the other newspapers and the opinion of the peoples. My family is affected and keeps silent, believing me in the most extreme agitation; and yet my natural, placid composure — they no doubt understand nothing of it.