Wednesday, 19 March 1879

A promenade with the Gavinis. Monsieur Gavini sends tickets for tomorrow — and I write the following letter.
[Wednesday, 19 March 1879] Monsieur,
I am told that, like any self-respecting divinity, you are enveloped in a cloud that renders you indifferent to the inhabitants of the earth. I believe nothing of the kind — for that cloud is generally nothing but the fog that gathers around minds that are growing old, and you, Monsieur, cannot grow old.
But however much the philosopher or demigod you may have become, it is impossible that you should refuse me. Impossible — because I swear to you that I desire it with all my strength, and besides, it will cost you nothing.
The matter is simply to consent, just once, to be the most-spiritual director of a woman who wishes to consult you as a priest on a very grave matter. But reassure yourself, Monsieur and Great Man — I would not for anything in the world tell you "the novel of my life," nor anything that might get on your nerves.
I come a little late, I know, and I tremble at the thought of the number of those who must have written you things of this kind — but that is not my fault.
In your books you appear to be all that is greatest and best in the world, and if you show yourself disdainful you will destroy one of my most cherished illusions — and when one can avoid committing such an action it is better to do so. Therefore, if you are first of all sympathetic and benevolent, and if you possess that immense goodness found only in men of genius (I would not wish to flatter you — but you must understand why I prostrate myself before you and send you so groveling a letter) — therefore, if you are all that is good in the world, come on Thursday, 20 March, to the bal de l'Opéra, the only place where I can see you. A word to the poste restante at the Madeleine —
R,A,C — for you will understand perfectly that without you I shall not go.
Besides, if you are Olympian, if you have turned bourgeois — stay at home, for truly you fill me with a holy terror and I should be left speechless.
I should very much like to tell you that I am a respectable woman — but that would only make you believe the contrary.