Sunday, 21 September 1884

The supreme ordeal. Luncheon at Jouy. The girl has copied the picture — badly. Well, we shall see.
I return with a raging fever. Guests arrive, but by some miracle are not kept to dinner. If you only knew!
Other people are in their own homes; one sees them only primped, dressed, at their best. Everyone has their dressing-room miseries. But here everything is open! One is ill, in a dressing gown; no matter. And these people whom one receives like this out of kindness say that you are growing plain, that you are letting yourself go. Or else they plague you with questions and advice.
Why do you cough? You are this, you are that. You ought to do such-and-such. Misery! I have now arrived at this supreme dream, an ideal that sums up all my past demands and can be expressed in the words:
Let them leave me alone.
And even that! I cannot have it.