Wednesday, 11 August 1880

I was painting in the shop when my aunt arrived with Nervo, or rather Potin, who has just arrived with freshly made gossip. First he tells me that Mme de Saint-Amand went to Mont-Dore intending to ask for my hand for her brother.
No matter, this Parisian head does me good. We go for a walk to the confectioner's, to the market.
And here is an article in Le Gaulois informing the universe that Berthe is the mistress of Blanc de Monaco.
On returning from the walk, I look at myself in the mirror and find two wrinkles under each eye --- no, under the left eye only.
A letter from Maman saying she will join us at Biarritz. So I make a resolution to see if I can make my various fortune tellers lie. And also to see if it suffices that I consent to a thing --- not only possible but one that has been begged for twenty times on bended knee and that I have not wanted --- to see then if it suffices that I consent to accept this thing unworthy of me for it to no longer want me, or for it to go wrong in one way or another.
I therefore resolve to say yes when Soutzo comes to seek my definitive answer.
For after all, I have had enough of all this, and since I am thinking of it, I have had enough of the Soutzo marriage. He will not give me the necessary position. I do not want exclusively reactionary society; I want... You know what I want. Well no, Soutzo is not the match, but no matter, I shall say yes.
I write to Maman that it is useless to join us at Biarritz, that I shall wait in Paris. But every time I write to her there is rage and tears; I am exasperated on this question and against these people!
I find myself fresh and young this evening, and Soutzo has less chance.
We walked, my aunt, Potin, and I. How good it feels to have a living being, but... what a vile beast a man of the world is and what a dissolving breath... And yet when one has arrived, such people also flock by fashion, understand the arts, and all the good side does not exist...
No, no Soutzo! Yet one of the reasons that makes me say yes is precisely that with him I shall have the peace necessary to work; I shall not have this incessant fear: hurry, you are aging, or: when you arrive, it will be too late! And then one goes mad. But... are these terrors not salutary?
Perhaps it is the necessary spur... Yet I believe it would be good to marry in order to pursue my career...
I am too much in the air, too perched, as a young girl!... and then I want to be free. I am so in fact, but there is always this necessity of dissimulating, of saying Maman instead of I, and of being stupidly under tutelage... all the more so because one betrays oneself at every moment. With this wretched Soutzo and holding my fortune, I would perhaps be at peace...
And so the formula changes: instead of arriving through talent at a brilliant marriage, there is marrying in order to have time to acquire talent.
I shall have a good 60,000 francs a year right away, and if one sold the villa, even 400,000 francs, that would give me 8,000 francs more a year. But what is that?!
Soutzo has 20,000 francs a year!!!... Is it not stupid to bring him 80,000 along with my person? For after all, women are paid for, and legitimate wives should legally be paid for... at least by an equal fortune.
Ah! I shall always revolt against a Soutzo marriage! It would be shameful.
I shall say no! I shall always find one of that caliber in two or three years. And in the meantime there will always be the hope of finding better.
Yes, yes, it is decided. Long live painting and down with the Nervos, Potins and Co.