Friday, 29 February 1884

I am truly getting thin! Good heavens. But I have done my hair like Mackay in the pastel Jules made of her.
He is going to Algeria with his mother. How touching. On a camel... For I believe Mackay has thrown him over.
But after all... I am merely noting my impressions, nothing more.
What would you have — I cannot go eight days without someone to think about, and when for moments, very brief moments, I fancy myself in love, it is joy.
Ah, if only I pleased him as much as I please the architect! That worthy builder of houses may not be in love with me — but if I wished... Well, it would be enough for me... There would be sufficient there that, were the woman to offer some encouragement, something magnificent might come of it... But my dear child, what are you doing in painting? Oh, base multitude who worship my style, I am painting Dina — only since I fear to say anything... Well, these are enormous emotions — when one has arrived, is one always as wretched and as moved before nature? Naive great artist, you want someone to tell you that without these torments one is nothing but a craftsman... Very well.
Well, dear God, it is possible that I am mistaken, and after all... One looks so stupid and ridiculous when one is mistaken — and the less the person in question matters, the more idiotic one appears. Very well, but still: I believe I noticed some time ago, above all, that the architect was in love with me. Is that not an absurd, pointless, and cruel thing — and would it not have been far better had it been his brother? I would marry Saint-Amand at once. Really, truly! Whereas if this poor fellow does indeed find me admirable, it must annoy him a great deal.
Maman and my aunt give him a charming reception, for they believe he appreciates me at my true worth.
It is enough for someone to tell them that so-and-so finds me charming for them to adore so-and-so.
I should like to see Mme Cartwright... It is tiresome that she is so little comme il faut... And Mackay... It is strange — I have never been jealous, except over Audiffret in the old days, and even then the grand words I used came from novels...
On the contrary, I feel sympathy for the lady connected with my object of interest... Come now — when shall I ever be truly in love?
What if I went to Algeria!

Notes

Nom d'un chien (literally: name of a dog): a mild euphemistic oath, softening nom de Dieu.