Sunday, 16 September 1883

I am thoroughly ill. And I apply an enormous blister plaster to my chest. After that, doubt my courage and my desire to live. No one knows it, moreover, except Rosalie; I walk about the studio, read, converse and sing with almost a fine voice. As often on Sundays I do nothing — no one is surprised. Gavini and Tchoumakoff dine this evening, and I do not come down because Gavini irritates me to the highest degree, as Saint-Amand does, and because I have just had a treatment — that is the reason given to my family; in turn my family says I have a frightful migraine. I have never had a migraine except once. I am content, alone; after dining while reading I have all the lights extinguished, the curtains opened, and I walk about my floor under a splendid moonlight. That too is a pleasure.
And amid so much misery, I am relatively happy. I learn that Géry and the princess are downstairs, and I send word that my migraine is improving and I have fallen asleep, having a model early tomorrow — which is true.
And then… My beautiful soul is looking for a kindred soul.
I am so alone among my own people — they bore me. And I shall never have a woman friend. Claire says I cannot have a friend among girls, because I have no little secrets and little girl-stories.
"You are too good — you have nothing to hide."
Honesty obliges me to add that this girl is very clever. She passed her examinations brilliantly at sixteen at the Hôtel de Ville. And I have read her compositions, which contain sentences of great elaboration.
Besides… Listen, I do not want girl friendships. Men's friendships, yes — because there is always some ulterior motive, or else Love, Love, Love.
Having written it, I scarcely care any more…