Friday, 9 May 1884

I am reading and adoring Zola; his criticism and his studies are entirely admirable things and I am wildly in love with him.
To please such a man one would do anything! And you think yourself capable of love... like everyone else! Ah! Lord.
Well, I loved Jules as I love Zola — Zola whom I have never met, who is forty-four, has a wife and a paunch. I ask you whether men of the world — these men one is supposed to marry — are not atrociously ridiculous?
What on earth could I find to say to such a gentleman all day long?
Emile Bastien dines here and announces for Thursday morning a visit with M. Hayem, a fairly well-known collector. He owns Delacroixs, Corots, Bastiens, and makes a speciality of discovering future great painters. The day after Bastien’s portrait of his grandfather was exhibited, Hayem appeared in his studio and commissioned from him a portrait of his own father. He is said to have a remarkable instinct. Emile ran into him today in front of my painting.
— What do you think of it?
— I find it very good. Do you know the artist? Is she young? And so on. This Hayem has been following me since last year, when he noticed the pastel, and this year the painting...
In short, they will come on Thursday. He wishes to buy something from me.
What do you say to that?
But I have no paintings that can be sold — they are all large-scale work; I have not had time to produce things of ordinary dimensions... Well.
Jules is no better.
But I love Zola with reverence, with terror, and without hope — as one loves a God.
And yet if I were as I used to be... Ah! it is a great misfortune!
If God existed, would He have struck me like this? Why?