Sunday, 14 September 1884

Flowers!
Can you for a moment admit the possibility that I am mad about Bastien?? No, I go, but there it is.
If I stop going altogether, they will ask why; we are bound to each other to such a degree that an explanation would be required — and what should I say?
And going there is unbearable to me. Mme Mac-Kay, the great lady. A splendid mansion; in the beginning at Cartwright's she claimed ignorance, she had strayed there — then came back "on your account." As if he believed her. And now she is in her element. Cartwright says she is originally from Cologne and that her husband was a telegraph clerk in New York.
[Two lines cancelled]
But Cartwright is put out because Mme Mac-Kay is giving herself airs.
Now she is English, and there are coats of arms on every door. And at the varnishing day in 1883 she was promenading with Princess Massalsky and the two Bastiens, to whom the said princess was saying vile things about us.
Emile confessed as much one evening.
Weigh it, think it over, and see how particularly pleasant this circumstance is for me. The embassy. We went — but neither the ambassador nor his wife left their cards for us. In short, we… I…
The eternal wretchedness of it — to have dreamed of equalling a great man, a Plutarch, and to suffer over such petty humiliations!!
They dragged me to the Bois all the same, but I am stiff, cold, pale, and plain. They were out on the water, in Dr. Charcot's boat, with Mademoiselle Charcot and young Charcot. On seeing us they came ashore.
But I return home in a dreadful state. It is as though everything has collapsed. A hopeless prostration with no cause whatsoever. The urge to weep. The end of the world. And for no reason at all.
The architect came in the evening and that distracted my mind a little from such dark thoughts. [Three lines cancelled] but I am limp as a rag all the same, and he carries me up the stairs, followed by Dina. I feel as though I could never have managed the climb alone.