Friday, 1 September 1882

I receive a letter from Maman, who writes that the young neighbours are arriving for two months with their friends and that great hunts are being organised. She is ready to come back, but as I had told her to let me know if... she is letting me know. There it is.
There it is. Well — it plunges me into an ocean of uncertainties, doubts and troubles. If I go, my exhibition is done for... If only I had worked well all summer I might have used rest as a pretext — but no. Come, admit that it would be magnificent. Yes — but nothing is less probable... Four days and four nights on the railway, and sacrificing a year's efforts to go and try to please and get myself married by people one has never seen... Reason and reflection have nothing to do with it... The moment I debate this madness I shall probably do it... For I no longer know what I am doing... I shall go to a fortune-teller — to Mère Jacob, who predicted I should be very ill.
For twenty francs I have just purchased happiness for two days at least. Mère Jacob predicts charming things for me — somewhat muddled... all of that — but what returns with insistence is that I am going to have an enormous, dazzling success; the papers will write about it; what talent I shall have... And then a great happy change — a very fine marriage, a great deal of money, and journeys, great journeys. And also that I love or will love a married man, and that... Do you permit me to speak as the fortune-teller does? I was poorly dressed and this woman was not restrained: she told me I shall live with this married man and shall have children by him. And if it is not true she no longer calls herself Jacob — she swears it on the Good Lord and on heaven... You will see, you will see — an immense success, a great deal of money, a fine marriage and the married man... Well!... And a charming, agreeable man — not the married one, another, intelligent, superior, someone at last! Dark, with magnificent eyes and straight brows that meet slightly... This man loves me... Who can it be? It resembles Tony... But what is curious is this prediction of art, of triumph, of a voyage by water, of a brilliant change... I can only remember the things she repeated ten times, swearing they would come to pass.
And then deaths around me... But for now. Oh my painting. And as for the married man... I am going to bed in what you may call a childish happiness — but it only cost twenty francs. I shall not go to Russia but to Algiers... For if it is to happen, it will happen there as easily as in Russia.
Good night — it has done me good.
I shall work well tomorrow. She did insist on this success and this journey and this marriage — and the married man... And this charming young man with the fine eyes and the straight brows... Oh! I shall apparently be in love — oh, very much in love — with the husband and the other and the married man... It is vague. What is clear, and what she repeated twenty times with the urgency of one whose dinner depended on it, is this immense success and the marriage and the journey... It is not much — but it whiles away a few pleasant hours. And that I shall be ill again — but that if I have already been, it will no longer be serious — and a letter that will give me great pleasure, and also...