Saturday, 9 August 1879

Last night I prayed to God for a long time but I did not feel that He heard me. There are things that are impossible and when one asks for them it is in vain.
I went to the Bois with Berthe. I am going out with her again, it is dangerous but it amuses me. While we were walking we played a name-guessing game, the old ones. In the evening a mad crowd at the circus. With us, Blanc, Bichinsky and Alexis.
I feel that I shall win my glory not by painting but by sculpting. Today I have a passion for sculpture.
To leave or to stay? The trunks are packed. My doctor does not seem to believe in the efficacy of the Mont-Dore waters. What does it matter, I am going there to rest. And upon returning I shall have to lead an incredible existence. I shall paint as long as there is daylight and I shall sculpt in the evening. Furthermore, I shall have to cultivate connections with the Prince.
I should like to be of service to the Deceased. If only I could get a letter for the embassy, that would settle everything. And I do nothing to obtain it! Nothing at all.
I am a fool. It does not matter. I swear to you, as Cassagnac says, that I shall pull through.