Thursday, 17 August 1882

Last sitting. My artist is looking for a subject for a painting — something modern and fine... And then "he has a wish to leave in his oeuvre a nude figure," only it is so difficult to find a beautiful model; he seems to foresee insurmountable difficulties... One would really think that a beautiful naked woman was no longer to be found in Europe. It makes one feel like offering oneself as a model. I should do it quite happily if it were truly to go down to posterity... Or even simply to have my portrait in that... costume... Perhaps he had rather hoped... Not to mention that I would say it laughingly... For when we chat I say things in a slightly mocking tone, or with an affected naïveté that wishes to appear as such, which permits a great deal.
Besides, you know, I truly believe Tony has a very accurate opinion of me — that is, he believes me to be what I should like to appear: altogether nice, or to speak more seriously, very much a young lady, even a child, in the sense that though I talk like a woman I am, at bottom and for myself, of an angelic purity. I truly believe he respects me in the highest sense of the term, and that if he were ever to say anything improper in my presence I should be absolutely astonished. For after all, I always say I talk about everything — everything? How so? There are ways and ways; there is more than propriety, there is a modesty of language; I may talk like a woman, but I use... metaphors, things arranged in such a fashion that, though I am saying [those things], I appear not to touch upon them — as if, instead of saying my picture, I said the thing I have made. Never even with Julian have I used the words lover, mistress, affair — those precise and habitual terms that make one appear to be speaking of familiar things. One knows well enough that one knows all that, but one glides past it; if one knew nothing, one would not be amusing, for there are corners of conversation where a little malice and mockery on the subject called love is indispensable, even in passing. With Tony we speak chiefly of art; but still, in the end, that touches on music, on literature... Well, I see that Tony takes these... areas of knowledge in their true sense, finds it perfectly simple, and if I have the frankness not to play the innocent, he has the tact never to say as much as I do. Now let us grant that you cannot judge me in this journal, where I am serious and unadorned; when I chat I am better — there are airs, postures of language, images, things fresh, found, coloured, amusing... Not always, obviously, but at any rate there are those who are never any of these things.
In short, the portrait is pretty; there is even a hand that is charming. It is a good likeness, but he will work on it again in a month, and then it will be quite finished.
I am stupid and vain... Here I am, imagining that this Academician sees me as I see myself and consequently appreciates all my intentions, as one might say of an actress's performance. One exaggerates one's merits — that is well known — one credits oneself with them even when completely devoid of them — agreed; well, that being admitted, I shall tell you that it is very pleasant to believe oneself appreciated... And then with Tony or Julian I open up more than with others; I feel on solid ground, and the confidence gives me a charm I should not have elsewhere. Yet Julian is a different matter — it is, so to speak, backstage: there I take pride in having a ready tongue and being a person who cannot be taken in. And you see, Julian has not always thought I am what I am; he supposed me much more worldly than... nature, and is coming round from it; he suspected things not very creditable... It is through seeing me constantly that he is beginning to see me aright — and even so, it is through excessive cunning, for Father Rodolphe is a deep rogue, but Tony has a finer nature, more sentimental too, and so he is more naïve and more credulous. Oh, I am saying disagreeable things about myself... Do you know?
And so he came to dinner this evening; since the sittings he dines here very often and seems to come very willingly and to find in my conversation a very great charm. One would have to be a hypocrite or a fool not to notice it... Now, from there to tenderer feelings there is a great distance... That is evident, but you know how vain women are — and at moments I imagine... That is to say, here it is: I find myself so adorable that as soon as I believe someone understands me completely, I conclude involuntarily and almost unconsciously that I must be inspiring particular feelings.