Thursday, 11 September 1879

What use is Hecht to me! No! No, I am too discouraged!! Nothing goes right for me, so why should the Hecht scheme work out! This Jew dug out a seascape I dashed off at Dieppe at the last moment, and he is so mad about it that I had to give it to him. Ah, how sad life is and how pitiless God is.
Resign myself. But is that possible? And if God will give me nothing, why not soothe my torments by taking all these ideas away from me.
Against all expectation all these people came this evening: Da Costa, Fénelon, Alexis, Blanc, Hecht, the Russian priest.
Towards the middle of the evening I got myself up in Directoire style, which gave me liveliness and wit. Uncle watches and makes droll remarks; he takes them for suitors — as for me, I have told you already, I no longer think of such things. Saturday is the Hecht dinner. It promises to be interesting; I say nothing about it because I fear it will not succeed... besides, Joseph will not be there, so one must look beyond that young secretary. Hecht is very proud to bring us M. de Beyens, the Belgian minister; there will be... but let us not waste time saying who there will be, it will have to be said all over again on Saturday. I am fairly pleased; things... that is to say my words and my wretched little schemes seem to be driven by a favourable breeze; besides, it changes every day like the surface of the water, and at times everything seems lost, at times slight signs of improvement appear... A word said to me, an inflection of voice I catch, delights or dismays me... At times I believe myself dead and at times on the eve of coming out of the darkness.
I thank heaven I am no longer as foolish as I was when I thought I amused Cassagnac... His wife is stupid and a chatterbox, “like your Englishwoman”, says Blanc. He deceives her with Mme de Bois-hébert, and there is also Queen Isabella, who takes up a good deal of the noble knight’s time. That is what is nasty... But I am forgetting this man...