Wednesday, 4 October 1882

Well — my portrait is finished. This Tony is always complaining... He cannot sleep, he has a heap of troubles, he dined badly yesterday; for today; in short, life is nothing but a tissue of miseries. I am overexcited at the idea of going to Russia, of being elegant. [Crossed out: That] amuses me! I do not know why — I come back to saying: poor Tony... I should like to see something sentimental in his vexations. No — but what is true is that one feels when one pleases someone; thus I am certain there have been days — perhaps not, but a day — when this Orleanist came very near being smitten with me... For love is not always a great whole thing, well-defined and clearly perceived; so often... In short, this feeling subdivides itself infinitely and scatters into sparks that are inclinations, tendencies, impressions...
Has it never happened to you in journeys of the imagination to coast along shores where for an instant it seemed you wished to land? The imagination crosses spaces; there are vibrations there, currents... Well, I believe one always feels these currents of feeling... The other day I was speaking to you of Émile Bastien in a way that would make me ridiculous in the eyes of the vulgar — what do you expect, I tell you everything that passes through my head; well, evidently there was a moment when that architect was sufficiently under the charm for me to feel it and know it. Then it passed, and he returned without a jolt even to perfect calm.
It amuses me as an observer — and then I also imagine that I divine, as Edmond said, by reason of an excessive nervous development — a kind of second sight, in short. You see I deny myself nothing. It is all the easier since it is impossible to verify — and who will tell me whether I am right or wrong when I imagine anything at all in the domain of these impalpable and passing things?... In short, have I told you that Bojidar is in love with me? Never. That Morgan or Wodzinsky or Kiki? Never.
But for the Orleanist and the architect — well, I wager two francs they had the days I described... There is also this to be said: I love myself so much that I cannot believe anyone who sees me at close quarters is not charmed. Oh, I am never serious.
Géry and Gavini, back from his travels, come this evening.