Tuesday, 10 May 1881

I go to show my photographs to Mme de Brimont, and while chatting by the fireside we come to speak of eminent or merely interesting men; she asks me whether I have never felt admiration for her friend Paul de Cassagnac, and I frankly admit that I have — that his intense manner, his magnetism, his grand phrases had made an impression on me as a young girl. I spoke of it as some childish thing now past.
Then she tells me her one adventure. A rendezvous given at the Opéra, in roughly these terms: "I met you still as a young girl at my friend Princess Vera's; you made a strong impression on my imagination, etc. Come at such an hour to the Opéra ball." He arrived with two photographs of young women in his pockets, saying "you are one of them; I recognise you, but it pains me to see you here — it is your first time, I can tell; do not stay; but tomorrow, at 10 bis rue de Boulogne, masked as you are, and I give you my gentleman's word, etc., etc.!" All his phrases, in short. She went; he opened the door himself, led her up a very small staircase and showed her the various souvenirs, talismans, boot-soles... then: "heaven sends you to me; you are going to give me advice!" And proceeded to read her the speech he was to deliver the next day for his great cause... In short, she went back three times — always to give advice on political matters. One recognises Cassagnac perfectly; I felt I could hear him and I guessed his phrases in advance. The Vicomtesse was somewhat worked up as she told me this. "You have never heard anything like it — and I believe it is a unique adventure."
"Tell me, tell me, dear madame — I will tell you another story after, also under seal of secrecy."
We laughed heartily when I told her about the five women. Devil of a man — she cannot speak of him calmly after four years, and neither can I. I am not cold as ice in listening.
So on going downstairs for dinner I tell the story, and Dina reminds me of a certain tale told by Popaul. This Russian woman who came to him only masked — and when I objected that she must have been a monster he replied that she unmasked herself in the dark and that he had felt her face to make sure everything was in its place. "That was the adventure that excited me most — a woman from 'our country.'" And he implied that a great many things happened without candles — in short, she came for that!
And I who thought he was lying to give me the idea of doing the same... without compromising myself. It was when I was telling the story to Schaeppi that she said with her Swiss laugh: "then he could rather sculpt her than paint her." And this Russian Comtesse is Mme de Brimont. It is too perfect. She revealed herself — but he did not say so; that was vexing. A faded flower under the mask can be ideal. Ravishing, microscopic hands and feet, charming figure, delicious voice. Everything. And she swallows him whole. She says he does not like the Opéra ball — it offends his delicacies; she swallows his grand phrases and his speeches about women's feet, words said and repeated to me, to them, to fifty others. No matter — it is still something to be swallowed whole by so many women.
He must have received from heaven the gift of imposing on us — even on those who see through the trick, as I do, and who are no less moved by it. Touching sisterhood! It is a point of contact.
When I see Mme de Boishebert in the street I feel sympathy for her as for all her... sisters in the same situation.
Only I am and am not one of them; I came out of it pure but not without stains. This dear Mme de Brimont — she had quite a good idea there. He came to call on her afterwards. And she says: "nothing so affected as that boy" — with an air that says a great deal.
He must have been vexed on seeing the very pretty remains of the Vicomtesse — serves him right. But she is not stupid.
"And you went quite alone?" I asked.
"Oh, yes — he inspired in me an absolute trust."
"As in me."
What can it be, to inspire such trust? It is marvellous, inexplicable, exquisite. A wild and adorable trust — one is very happy when one has that trust in someone; it is the most charming thing in the world; it is perhaps... Love.
That is why the Vicomtesse occupies herself with mesmerism!
Ah, no — it is too perfect.
And now — you have known it for a long time — I am mad about him, and he thinks I remain unmarried because of him!
I must, I must, I absolutely must get married so that he can see it is not because of him — and above all to marry in some immense fashion... Without that it is not worth the trouble...
Ah, Lord — all this... My God, help me to get out of it.

Notes

Boot-soles (semelles de bottines): one of Cassagnac's characteristic romantic talismans. Marie has referred elsewhere to his habit of collecting and displaying personal relics of women he admired — a combination of the fetishistic and theatrical that she found both repellent and compelling.
"The five women": Marie is apparently referring to a story she knows about five women who had romantic encounters with Cassagnac — details not given here, as they appear to be common knowledge between herself and Mme de Brimont.
"Popaul": an affectionate/ironic nickname for Paul de Cassagnac, used by those in his circle.
Schaeppi's Swiss joke: "he could sculpt rather than paint her" — i.e., he could feel her in the dark rather than see her. The double entendre is on sculpter (to feel/model by touch) versus peindre (to paint/see with the eye).