Thursday, 17 February 1881

I went to see Rosita, who is back from Spain and has called on me several times. Naturally one speaks of the evening parties and balls that are beginning... I am very humiliated at going nowhere and take shelter behind my picture. It is sad and humiliating, this foolish desire for the social pleasures of my age. The music of Paul and Virginia makes me want to weep... Massé has magnificently understood the poem. Although I have had nothing resembling this singular novel, it has the gift of moving me always... and above all on evenings like this, when I tell myself that my youth is lost and that I am dead.
I have just dressed as for an evening party and paraded before the mirrors, well lit. I have lost nothing and am in excellent form! I have perhaps put on weight with the asses’ milk and other things I am made to take. I no longer dare, as at sixteen in Nice, to go into raptures over my body — I no longer have the naivety that made me say it quite naturally. My artistic studies have given me occasion to see a great deal of the nude, and I believe I can judge well. I have not changed my opinion of myself. Dazzling in colour; the neck too short; the hips and the...rest very ample; the feet and hands small but irregular, though expressive. Those are the criticisms.

Notes

Paul et Virginie: opera by Victor Massé (1822–1884), first performed at the Théâtre-Lyrique in 1876, after Bernardin de Saint-Pierre’s novel (1788). ↩
Asses’ milk (lait d’ânesse): a traditional remedy for chest complaints and debility. ↩