Sunday, 25 February 1883

It must be dreadful — because I believe I have done something good. For a moment I was pleased with myself, and it gave me a fright that still pursues me. Now, if it is not very good it will be doubly painful.
Besides, I have been so struck since those newspaper infamies and the rest... My overwrought imagination makes me foresee a thousand abominations — I am bent double, my head in my hands, ready to receive every blow. I believe one carries a darkness in the soul all one's life after suffering such calumnies and atrocities; they say one dies of them. Balzac very nearly kills Ursule Mirouet through them. But to kill me one would have to... And even that would not kill me. And then at present I never leave God. Whether in dream or in presentiment I commend myself to Him to soften the blow.
However that may be, I live in a kind of perpetual terror, knowing nothing for certain but fearing a thousand imaginary misfortunes... Young woman, the most fantastical misfortunes can come to pass. Have you done, owl. And then all at once it seems to me that all the dreamed-of happinesses are about to come to pass. I award myself medals, I triumph, I... I...