Thursday, 20 May 1880

The newspaper clippings!
Here is one that makes me angry — to tears!
I am very unhappy. So it will always be like this!
Others will live, and I shall sit at my desk writing these useless, atrocious outbursts of revolt!!
Now it is over; I have come to terms with it. It is stupid to weep endlessly over the same humiliating vexation. Besides, I had only to think that this is an old story in order to calm myself. I worked.
At home I find Anitchkoff and Soutzo. I begin by saying that all men put together are not worth Coco’s tail; then at dinner I am all graces without end — politics, the arts, philosophy, what not; I was astonished myself at the brilliance of my talk. Then I play the harp — fresh astonishment — I play it pleasantly; at my lessons (once a week, and not always that!) it was not going too well... it all depends on the day...
Soutzo plays cards in the drawing room with Anitchkoff — the game begun before dinner — while I play my Corinne in my room next door. You may tell me that this cretin is in love with me; I shall not believe you. But this evening I do not care — that is to say, provided he does not love another; but otherwise... he is almost a fool.
This evening I console myself for everything by telling myself I am a superior woman. Oh la la.
Soutzo does not have as much as I said the other day. What can he have?
So there it is. I am very jealous. He has just admitted that he likes Marie Audiffret. We were chatting there — my aunt, he, and I. I was speaking of little Juvisy, of little Audiffret; I was pressing the case for Mlle de Juvisy, and he said he does not like her, that it is Marie Audiffret he likes, but that he will never marry her because the mother is a cocotte, or nearly.
They wanted to marry him to the little one, and he did not set foot in the house, but now that the question of marriage has been set aside, he goes there. Oh, how it vexes me... In short, it is senseless, but I am jealous.
I have put him so firmly in his place and mocked him so much that he no longer speaks — neither of love nor of marriage. I wish he would speak of it; then I would tell him to stop going to those people’s house.
What is foolish is that I am jealous without love, and it vexes me as if... I have the vexation and not the pleasure. No, but really — a young girl who speaks to you of Musschenbroek’s pyrometer!
And who, hearing of the luxe of young girls, makes the infamous pun of fiat lux. If only I were truly learned — but I am merely a show-off!

Notes

Metalinguistic pun, left in the original: French luxe (“luxury”) against Latin lux (“light”), so that fiat lux (“let there be light”, Genesis 1:3) is heard in it. ↩