Tuesday, 9 September 1879

Not to mention Julia Acard! And if one wants to go quite far back one will find that the mistress of the Duke of Hamilton was named Amélie Gioia.
I am mortally sad, nothing goes right for me. Life is not worth living!
Blanc arrives and we begin to laugh. Then a ring at the door: Alexis; at the third ring the old prince arrived, so I slip away and five minutes later come back into the salon announcing myself: Citizeness Gambetta! Directoire hairstyle with the two ribbons, pearls at my throat, a full white wool dress, the sash beneath the bosom. I look very beautiful like this, and I am in very high spirits this evening. A dazzling complexion, sparkling eyes, the toss of the head of a conqueress... God knows why... Then comes Moraës with his red nose. I hold court in my literary studio, I am admired, this evening I am beautiful... and what is the use!
Robert-Fleury and Julian are in the country. This week I shall finish two or three small portraits, and next Monday I start going to the atelier again.
Ah! The atelier, no, it is too stupid.
I love the name Joseph. Yesterday for two acts I thought I saw him in the dark entrance to the stalls; I levelled my opera glass at the man, and it was only in the third act that I noticed my mistake, and even then only because Hecht said that Joseph had not come... This false Joseph was the Count de Brazza whom I met at de Lesseps’ and who felt obliged to pay a visit today because of the attention I had bestowed on him. He looks like Joseph, but a caricature of him.
Blanc flatters me so much. According to him there are not many like me, he unearths the historical notes I take with the help of the ancients, the remarks I add to them, then a certain notebook on Roman history and then a work on the Russian dynasties, even a note pencilled on the wall in a dark corner, on the first demagogue Menestheus! And as I am up to date on everything, on politics and on the men of the day, he congratulates me on it with his sailor’s bluntness. You would think the rest of the universe was ignorant and stupid, I mean women; he is astonished that I know a little history and literature. It is true that I know nothing in the way one learns things at school; I read and retain what strikes me.
All the same, wary as I am of flattery, it seems to me that the friend of the Deceased appreciates me down to the smallest detail. If there were a dozen like him my gospel would prosper.
But we know no one.