Thursday, 20 September 1883

Paul has arrived; we spend the day making calls, at the Exposition, the Bois, etc. Saint-Amand to dinner. I am a little better this evening.
Per my instructions, Bojidar has sent my letter to Saint-Marceaux, having removed the signature and anything relating to Bastien, and has sent me those excerpts along with the passage where I told him to forward the letter. The letter is full of the Harlequin and the bust of M. Renan and the finest appreciations I could find. At every moment I intend to speak of something else, but return as if irresistibly to the Harlequin and the Genius guarding the secret of the tomb. It is very adroit and very charming. And it will seem as though one is playing a trick on him by sending it. [Crossed out: I shall be impene]trable. He can only be flattered. And so that he does not think he pleases me, I took care to say: and yet he is not young, he is not handsome, he…
What expression will he have when he sees me?
But I love only the other. No one.