Wednesday, 2 May 1883

I am working on Bojidar’s portrait and Mlle Canrobert is doing a still life.
And we are above all very busy with our pantomime: Bojidar has composed a rather funny scenario and every day we find something new. He dashes off canvases and placards. It is called Pierrot the Painter. And then that idiot Bojidar goes downstairs to the drawing room and sprains his knee while cavorting about.
The doctor is sent for — and there goes a fortnight: it is dreadful. It was so delightful. The scene represents Pierrot’s studio. Pierrot (Bojidar) is in love with Columbine. Mme Cassandre (Émile) arrives — thinking she is going to her milliner, for Pierrot has changed the signs. He entreats Mme Cassandre to let him paint her portrait; she consents. Columbine (myself) stands behind her while Pierrot blows kisses to Columbine as he paints. Mme Cassandre takes the kisses for herself and swoons.
She falls asleep at last, and Pierrot declares his love to Columbine and proposes. What shall we live on? asks Columbine. Then Pierrot shows her his paintings — parodies already done this afternoon of the chief successes of the Salon, such as Bastien’s Love in the Village. Here various topical jokes and farces are inserted.
Columbine finds the painting atrocious, and the despairing Pierrot sits on Mme Cassandre, who leaps up — and Pierrot goes rolling to the floor; then he explains it was to take a measurement. Mme Cassandre finds her portrait so frightful that she collapses and dies. Columbine is in despair, and Pierrot slashes his canvases, the cause of it all. Mme Cassandre revives. Pierrot swears never to paint again — he shows a placard on which the famous colonnade is painted with an enormous inscription: BOURSE — and mimes the gesture of making purses. Mme Cassandre, delighted, gives him Columbine in marriage.
written across the page
The Bourse and the woman who falls are my own. O authorial vanity!
That is it in outline. But there are funny bits — when, for example, Mme Cassandre poses badly and Pierrot strikes at her and she rolls on the floor, she draws a strip of paper from her pocket and presents it to the audience, in large letters: “Ah! Never insult a woman who falls!”
And now it is postponed… And Jules will have left by then…
I was to go to the Opéra — but what is the use? That is, I thought for a moment of going so that, by showing myself there looking well, word might reach Jules. And why do it? I do not know. In short — how foolish! How mad — that I please people I care nothing about, while in return… Oh, it is certain he will not like me. And then that Mackay woman has a hold on him, and then he has no time… But it would be so pleasant, so charming, so fine! I should be so happy!
It would be so… Only one must not show it to him. It seems Breslau threw herself at his head — but… That he only likes blondes… And he says so himself. In poor taste. One must be careful, all the more so since it would really be for nothing at all — for after all I have no serious designs on this great artist. Would I marry him? No. Well, then?
Well, then? And then… one doesn’t know… Yet… However… In sum… Well, why must I always dig down to heaven knows where? I have a mad desire to please this great man, and there it is. And Saint-Marceaux too. Which of them more? Either. One of them would be enough for me. It is an interest… in life. My face is changed by it; I am much prettier — the skin is taut, fresh, velvety; the eyes alert and bright. In short, it is curious. What must true love do, if such trifles produce this effect?

Notes

Bourse: the Paris Stock Exchange, whose colonnaded building is painted on the placard; the word also means “purse”, hence Pierrot’s mime. Kept in French for the pun. ↩
Victor Hugo’s line «Oh ! n’insultez jamais une femme qui tombe !», which opens a poem of Les Chants du crépuscule (1835) pleading for the «fallen» woman; here it turns into a joke on Mme Cassandre’s literal fall. ↩