Chapter 16 1902

Everyone has their way of misunderstanding.The important thing is to believe in yourself. In the presence of Henri Albert, Léon Bloom, Charles Chamvin, and Marcel Derouin (with whom I invited to lunch), I blurted out a few stupid words out of vanity.It made me feel ashamed and blamed more than anything, and I would do better if it happened again.Only in solitude can I show value.In society, it is not others but myself that tires and annoys me. After eating, the conversation became lively, in other words, several people spoke at the same time.Shangwen, Bloom and Albert did not use the same vocabulary, and none of them noticed it.At this time, it is best for the spectators to keep silent, if they do not want to offend three people at the same time.

It was about how much Stendhal loved women, what he would do with them, and what had happened.Shang Wenquan is confused. What he calls "sensuality" is, in my opinion, just debauchery.When talking, you should first define the words he uses. I think that Stendahl was far more interested in women than in love.I think he intends to prove that he can go to a brothel, unlike his tryst with a lady or an actress, but he is misled by his shrewdness and appears powerless. * *I transcribed this paragraph, although today, March 25th, I don't think it's quite right.It should be said that I read this sentence in "Boastful Memoirs": "In two years, I visited brothels only three times."

He makes people feel that his spirit is more beautiful than his body; if I were a woman, I feel that the person I would least like to satisfy and deceive is Stendhal.To say no, is to "hold him up"; and in this way, to get the best out of him. Then, as if we all knew, Henri Albert suddenly told us that Stendhal had syphilis, and Flaubert had syphilis!We refuted, and he was still stubborn... Marcel Derouin and I read Duclos's lecture notes. He talked about any group of people, and one in six people will get syphilis; so Derouin said Think: "How lucky we are, there are only five of us!"

That same evening, Yael told us what Chauvin had already told me: the winter nights' pastime in the barracks.The soldiers gathered around the stove in the dormitory, tossing together, and when they ejaculated, they put it on the red-hot iron plate and fry it until it squeaked. This is called "refrigerating a child". "Another kid who won't 'curse' his father in the future." G said, wiping his thigh. Henry Albert spoke in a tone without enthusiasm or mercy.He speaks only of what he is sure of, and only of what he is not making up.Everyone felt that he could not be mistaken. If he got up in the morning and put on a pair of shiny leather shoes that didn't fit, it was because the pair of leather shoes that fit his feet would be unseemly.

Often only the consequences of an act touch us.Major crimes are often committed so easily only in a dream-like state.An afterthought longing to wake up from sin, longing for others not to take it too seriously... Henri Gayon and I were having lunch at Jacques Blanche's house, and Blanche described to us his uneasiness, which he believed to be abysmal and possibly intensified.His painting today makes him despise his yesterday's work; in his eyes, compared with his painting of the beggar on the Bishop's Bridge, "people of the upper class" have become mediocre and boring.That would not be the case in the UK, he said.He said he was going to sell it all, leave Paris, and move to London... at least to Bishopsbridge.However, the Villa Saint-Martin was not rented out this year, and he wanted to find another place to live, but found nothing.We agreed with him that the pictures he had made this summer were perhaps the best, but they were only the beginning, leading to something else... Henri Gayon was especially rejoicing at the thought of a brazen Blanche; He asserted that we all contributed a great deal, and traced back to the source. Blanche's cynicism began at the World's Fair, with his close contacts with us and the large portraits he made of us.I would rather believe him.

Grivan said he would sell his stake in Mercury, but he didn't.During the conversation (tonight at von Reiselberg's), he made me understand this with a casual remark.He didn't wait for me to joke with him, but he told what happened, trying to explain that he had taken a hasty decision based on the situation. It should be noted that Ville-Grivan has always been like this. Whatever he says or expresses, it only proves that he hesitates to the extreme. Regardless of his superficial ideas, there are always some trivial things that expose him. He said that he went to see Chamois in the morning, and he did not admire the works and personality of this young sculptor. He said that he only saw bragging, ambition and conceit in him; flattery.I can think whatever I like, and he said this, which is a kind of rebellion, blaming himself for being too attentive in the morning.I have just received a letter from Chamois, which also leads me to think of this: when he wrote to me, he was still thrilled by Ville-Grivan's warm praise.

Weller-Grivan would not understand, however, that it was precisely such things that made him funny, clever, and likable.Every personality is especially prone to his indiscretions. Grivan asserted that there was a "brilliant" typographical error in the notice of the "Mercury" magazine's shareholder meeting, printing "assemble generale" (general assembly) as "assemble genitale" (reproductive assembly).He talked about it with such joy that he made no one laugh, and told it three times in a row (at von Reiselberg's). I've checked: it's not true.

This Tuesday, every time I repeat in my heart the words of Sang Fan in "La Miel": "Some days, I have to let the servants tie me to the leg of the bed." I feel that I am in such a day.It wasn't that I was going to fight the White Magazine, but it was almost six o'clock, and I ran to the Mercury magazine office, disappeared in the crowd, and a moment later I was out of the crowd with Henry Duffery, and walked into an office , the two of us talked for a quarter of an hour, which somewhat comforted me for all the troubles I had today. Let's say that when I went to the "White Magazine" agency, I wanted to receive a mere small sum of money.I went to the window and introduced myself as a creditor, but the other party received me as a debtor.The magazine guy said I owed nearly a hundred francs.So I asked for a detailed bill of what I owed.The other party handed me a half-used envelope, and I saw it written in scribbled characters:

"The King of Condor" has a continuous history of 21 paper editions... 42 Ruled paper version 6 copies... 60 102 Mr. Gide's cooperation due... 17 He owes... 85 Without saying a word, I stuffed the note into my pocket (this was three days ago).This evening, feeling full of energy, I went to the magazine office and asked to see Alexander Nathanson. I smiled, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, I said to him: "That day, someone gave me this small bill, and I was eager to approve it, but no one explained it to me, so I still couldn't understand it." After that, I handed him the piece of paper. (I memorized this sentence.)

What followed was a tedious debate over the sample copy of King Candor, for which I was surprised to be paid double.This problem is ruled out. "The second thing I'm curious about is about," I continued. "I never expected that neither you nor Madruus would gift me an edition in luxurious paper; and yet I am surprised that I bought it here for more than I could get it in any bookstore. Because I Is it 'the people in the club', as you say?" Nathanson immediately explained to me that there was an error, and naturally a discount was offered, which I did very well to ask for.

"You know," said he, "the accounts are made in general; quite general. It is impossible to treat each person differently. Therefore, every transaction is routinely charged at the highest price. You see, the accounts are in general. Of course I can't look up every single one. But everyone just needs to mention it. By the way, Mirbeau is like that... You know, Mirbeau is a member of the society! Hey! He just met you The day he came to us to take all his books, we gave him a bill of fifteen hundred francs. He objected. Do you know how much his bill was reduced to? . . . to nine hundred francs. Francs! You see, just bring it up." "To a man of Mirbeau's temper . . . " said I, "or a man of my temper (I put my emphasis on it), that's all very well; but there are some who don't think the worst of it, and may well pay as much." "Excellent!" Alexander interjected.Then, a little more sober, he added: "You know, if they want to spend less money, they can go to the bookstore to buy it. We don't give kickbacks here... Do you know how many accounts you have opened with us?" "...?" "Twelve thousand households! . . . " (I think this is exactly the number he told me.) "Are you satisfied with this answer?" "Not satisfied. I would also like you to pass these instructions on to your accountant." "Well," said Alexander, "please follow me." We walked through the small corridor to the editing room.Alexander opened the second door on the left, which was the accounting room.On a large table covered with papers and notebooks, a Jewish lady in a pince-nez was doing accounts. "Miss, this is Mr. Gide. From now on, you will give him a 30% discount on all books published in the club." He was going out, changed his mind, and came back: "From now on, all authors who publish books in our agency will enjoy the same discount." After all, he turned to me with his crocodile-like smile on his face: "Are you satisfied? . . . aren't you? . . . Yes, me too! There! Goodbye . . . " After I made this little "demand," my debt was reduced from one hundred and two francs to fifty francs, and, after verification, my remuneration was reduced from seventeen francs to thirty-four francs. "She makes love without emotion; what she loves most is a good conversation." (Ramielle, p. 131.) Nine out of ten moments of Stendhal's pleasure were due to the gratification of vanity. , why did I print three hundred copies? ...to gloss over the loss-making sale a little.If 1,200 copies are printed, the loss will be quadruple, and my heartache will be quadruple. Furthermore, everyone should try their new luck; this time, I can try it alone, and I am fully prepared for this kind of thinking, and I will find it very interesting; the result is unpredictable, and it will also be very educational; Pay special attention to this point. Last night, I stayed in the house obediently, finished reading "Lamière", and then meditated again.I expected myself to go out.But I didn't go out, and I didn't feel bad staying inside (the night was even pretty good).In the past two years, I went out at ten o'clock every night, wandered on the main road, and didn't return until three o'clock in the morning.Now I am wiser; I am old. I received "The Organist" by Cesar Frank and almost immediately played it from beginning to end, savoring an uninterrupted flow of pure appreciation.Papa Gruhl really pissed me off: I played him Overture, Organ, and Fugue one night, and he said, "There's no breath! There's no pause here." He was like Say Pascal's "Thoughts": "There is a lack of women here." I am waiting for little Paul, and I can chat with him about syphilis, and other interesting things-but I watch him more than he listens to me... The doorbell rings: it is Albert !He loves to come and sit with me, and he comes in and sits down, and it's quite pleasant, and he looks lovely, sad, and plaintive, and he just wants to be comforted, and has no intention of providing other pleasures to others—and others are happy to comfort him, because Just a little persuasion... But I kept thinking, if no one came to bother me, I would be able to read and write something. Can I go to O Street tonight?I'm just going crazy.I pushed this matter for four days and four days... How powerful is the will once it meets the desire! However, my cold is too severe.Really angry, but no one else to blame, only myself annoyed. Twenty days from now, if I catch a cold again, I will not be able to go to Russia. The need for Stendahl to write...and it is not at all a spontaneous, irresistible need for me to write these notes.I've never had fun writing fast.So I'm going to force myself in this regard. Alexander S, met on the main road.He was nineteen, only slightly less handsome than when he was fifteen.Perhaps he lacked a little of the paleness and delicacy of youth, and at first sight of his features we thought he was a Spaniard. I'm going with Gaion.Alexander accosted us, saying, "I just lost my wife." (For a year, Alina lived with him.) "We had a lot of fights," he continued, recounting how, on New Year's Eve this year, because he The usual attitude was even rougher, and the poor girl was furious and ran to her girlfriend's house.My girlfriend is addicted to morphine and advised her to "get a shot".Alina miscalculated the dosage?Or is she deliberately increasing the dose? ...overdose anyway, and she died an hour later. "You probably saw the news in the newspaper." Alexander said, as a concluding remark. I asked rather foolishly if he was very sad. "Of course!" he said. "We're very in love... Well, now, I don't know how to live." At first he worked as a fine stonemason, and Alina has been of great help to him since he quit that trade.He wants to change trades, so he does everything, and God knows what else to do!Well!If what he tells is not a lie, what a lesson to hear him say! ... He professes to be fully protected by the police (as almost everyone does) and goes on and on about him.We walked into a small café on the Avenue Montmartre and sat down at a marble table. Alexander ordered a glass of hot milk, I ordered a glass of kirsch, and Gaion ordered a glass of syrup with water.Then he showed us his material.His purse was full of excellent testimonials, letters from his former jewelry store owner, and so on. "Oh, that's right! Take a look! Search my body, it may involve my materials, and I never keep a piece of paper." Instead, he had a letter from a national engineer on a mission in Tokyo, and a photograph of that engineer surrounded by a group of Tokyoites, men and women.Then he took out another letter from the same man and read it to us; the opposition newspapers would have paid a fortune for such material... In the letter the engineer described what they were doing there, especially Doing nothing will cost the country so much and bring back so little benefit to the country.If only I could copy it down! ...In short, Alexander is going there to find his good partner who has been with him for more than two years.At that time, they lived and slept together; the engineer seldom went out, and almost always took Alexander with him when he went out, introducing him as his cousin.He has been abroad for half a year. Alexander then narrated last summer, his seasons at Trouville and Le Havre.He was supported by two women, one at Trouville and one at Le Havre.He spends the day with the one and the night with the other.Every morning, he sailed to Trouville to take part in horse racing or carousel gambling.Every evening, he returned to Le Havre by boat. "Ah!" he said, "how happy I was there! I lived the life of a prince. I had a room in the hotel, fifty francs a day. . . . " Returning to Le Havre one evening, he found the bed empty; his mistress, bored of waiting, was taken away by an Englishman. I asked him about little August.At that time, he told people that it was his younger brother, but he didn't see each other anymore, and he seemed unwilling to mention it. "He's in Madagascar," he answered.The last time I saw him was when he came out of Little Rockett. Last night was Dukot's last Thursday. (He left for Italy.) I first went to see Charles Gide's family, and arrived at Ducourt's about ten o'clock. Charles-Louis Philippe accompanied me from the Ducourt house, and we walked for a long time on the avenue. "I feel awkward talking to you," he told me, "because I haven't figured out when you find me interesting." "That's when you said that to me, my brother Philip." Today, I came home around four o'clock, clear enough to write.Aunt Charles came to visit, and then Hubert, who stayed until dinner. After dinner, I read Ragnarok to Mader. I can read while walking again.I'm fine. This morning, I am due to see Alexander again.He asked me to chase him at his house in Trevez Street.After hearing what the female concierge said, I realized that it was obviously a prank. "Mr. Alexander S." I asked. "Not here, sir." "He told me he was here." "Here it is, not here," she answered. "What do you mean by that, old man?" "He doesn't live here. Just a few pieces of furniture." "I must talk to him. Where can I find him?" "I can't tell you that." I was so annoyed that I was about to leave when she stopped me again. "Hey!" she said, "here, take the servant's stairs, go up to the fourth floor, knock on the second door from the left, and see if he will open it for you." I went upstairs, knocked on the door, waited a while, and knocked again.A quarter of an hour passed.I walk away, come back, knock on the door again... and nothing happens. In a trance, he seemed to ask me to meet at the amusement park, and when I arrived at the gate of the amusement park at five o'clock, there was no one there.Forget it! ... I would still like to go to see him at home. I have known Alexander for almost five years.What an interesting man he would be if he wasn't always lying! Gaion's frankness is enough to comfort all my hypocrisy.In terms of physical strength and health, he is top notch.Even though he restrained me a little and made me laugh at the fool, I was happiest seeing him.Although he rarely works, he reads a lot.He read everything, and for the past thirty days he had devoured Thucydides, Montesquieu, Marivaux, Stendhal, Saint-Beuve, and the like. In order to be able to go to O Street, I skipped lunch yesterday and ate an applesauce pie towards noon and two sandwiches around 4 pm.It was nearly two in the morning when I went to bed. I am in excellent condition, my mind is clear and active; a kind of physical pleasure keeps me intoxicated all day.On the Champs-Elysées, I stopped three times, sat on a chair to write, and sat for more than 20 minutes. I went to the transport company's office on the Place Saint-Sulpice, asked Jules Hyeres to dinner, and found little Juliette and Marcel at his window; Hyeres told us the story of the two children.I walked with them for a while.The little girl was eight; the little boy was seven, and he made a liter of wine and bought potatoes to take home for dinner. As I walked, I read "The Literati" by the Goncourt brothers. I was at the Café Heifer with Ducourt and Shangwen, waiting for Henri Albert who was about to join us, and I told them a dozen anecdotes about half a dozen "celebrities."Poor but lovely Ducotte's face darkened.Shang Wen also spoke, telling about Carlisle asking his wife to pay him a salary. "Really?" Ducote exclaimed loudly, "if it is necessary to show the greatness of man by such eccentric behavior, then I thought, what am I? . . . " "Well!" I said, "Dukot now thinks he's been too nice to his wife." However, my wisecrack did not break his face, and after a while the kind Ducotte sighed again. Spent last night with Jules Hyeres.Chatting with him alone, this is the first time.Yael is handsome, and in the whole "generation" (I mean the whole clique), I would have written: Of all of us, perhaps the most handsome. He was in the office until eight o'clock, and I waited for him at the gate, and then we both went to dinner in a café opposite the Café Voltaire. During the whole dinner, he was too busy talking and eating. (I also took note of his relationship with Madame Audou's niece.) "But," I asked him when he had finished, "why don't you write it down? Just as you told me...it will be as beautiful as "A Fragile Heart." "Well!" he replied, "if you know Madame Audou's story, what can you say? Yes, I will write her story, because I don't have any part in it... It is strange to say: I I don't want to write at all, or rather, a story that has nothing to do with me." We talk about death.He told me that he was not afraid of death.I told him that I had been "waiting for the worst". "I understand you very well," he added. "But... I don't experience this feeling, I don't..." He paused, and then said softly: "Perhaps it's because I've lived in the worst of times. Yes, the only thing that surprises me about what happens to me is happiness." He said this without affectation, as naturally as the rest. I have a respect for Yael.That said, I need his respect. This Sunday morning, the weather was fine; I went out at about eleven o'clock, got on a double-decker bus at random, and changed to another one, which was close to Belle Fort Street.My head was still filled with the story Yael told, and I just wanted to be real.I reached the Rue Etienne-Marcel, then the Rue Rambuteau, and finally the Rue Belle-Court, the saddest and most interesting of all streets.But it was late, so I could only take a look at it, and I planned to come back to see it that night. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, I received André Bonnier, who introduced me to Petersburg and Moscow. Go out at three o'clock in the afternoon.I turned back to the Sainte-Martin quarter, and wandered until dark among the unusual alleys, full of hotels of bad repute or dubiousness, which I chose as the background location for the whole mystery I wanted to know. (There is the Rue Venezia among them.) Then to the morgue area; the beautiful Angjou Riverside (Rozan Hotel, etc.).The Croisette of Bethune; Notre-Dame.Angjou Riverside Road, No. 1 and No. 3, are my favorite houses. I brought Em back a marvelous 'Captain Christy' which entertained us as much as a painting all evening.calm night. Em pronounces "Outamaro" by the Brothers Goncourt.I played César Frank and then I read The Men of Letters to learn how not to write. Captain Christie was open; cheesy; totally "of the general variety," as Em puts it. We have learned of the death of Georges Widmeyer's youngest daughter.The baby girl lived for six weeks. Em went out to visit and told Mrs. Valkner the sad news. "Well! I just sent them a greeting card, congratulations on the baby..." "Well, my child," cried another old woman who was visiting, "if there's nothing written on it, it could be a condolence card." Bonnier.At the end of each sentence he smiled, or laughed, as if to ask your pardon.He's the most uncomfortable person I've ever known. This morning, Leon Bloom read me the first act of his play ( ). Molière had taken revenge on Bloom today, the result of his preference for Marivaux. Finished watching Charles DeMayet.This is a hideous book, with extraordinary virtues everywhere. In "Taihe Malu", see the saying "learn from nature" (pages 112 and 116). Masaccio, is the painter who "learned from nature" ("Italy of the Past", pp. 111 and 134, written in 1855). At Gailan's.The conversation was extremely difficult; however, his paintings aroused my great interest. I went home and changed my shirt and false collar, and then went to the "White Magazine" office to get them to accept Gaion's book.I fought with all my might and almost got over Fred's reservations.Two days later, I have to go again to hear his final reply. Talking with Kahn on the High Street;--it was lively, but not very interesting. I'm back from the New Circus.Afraid of catching cold (dressing), he wolfed down hot porridge and two small glasses of rum. Feeling good this morning, waking up refreshed, quick thinking, light-hearted, and feeling at its peak.I had intended to see Roger Marks, but I was unwilling to dedicate the good time of the morning to anyone else.Take a stroll along the Opera Street.Visit the Louvre (French Sculpture Gallery).Although my eyes are sore this morning (last night, I forced myself to read Cesar Frank's works in the backlight), I have good eyesight, and it is a kind of enjoyment to see everything.What you see is immediately transmitted to your mind.I danced in front of the statue of Udon, shed tears at the works of Rüder, and stamped my feet when I saw the works of Karpo.I really want to pull Em here immediately. After lunch, M and I went out.Walk towards Hayashi Art Collection.Nice walk.In the Tuileries Park, the bird feeder has just finished his work, and as he crosses the street, he surrounds a large flock of birds.We went to see Clodion's sculpture "The Priestess of Bacchus" and watched it for a long time. Enter Lam Kee Art Shop.It's just blinding my eyes.The small shop in the inner room is amazing, so many hanging scroll calligraphy and paintings from the 12th century in China and the 9th century in Japan.It is amazing that Japan is three centuries earlier than China.why?Could it be that Buddhism was introduced earlier?Because I think such a prosperous period of art is bound to be accompanied by the rapid promotion of a religion.I happened to read two long essays by Renan on Buddhism during the holidays - however, my head (memory side) is so poorly constructed that I remember almost nothing. Fontaine had been suffering from rheumatism for a month.However, I just heard about it yesterday, and I am hesitant to see him. I am afraid that one day I will not feel well, and he will come to see me again. In his study, there was a sweet and faint smell of medicine.He said that in the past month, he has been using only salicylates, and he has become dull and can't do anything.He complained that his mind was still in a state of numbness; and that was true in the way he looked; he was never a talker (neither was I), so it was a waste of effort to break the silence after a long silence before a couple of words were spoken. He is brewing a novel, sorry not to reveal anything, because it would destroy his inspiration.He asked me about Chamois, and Grivan was instigating him against someone.I told him what happened.He walks me to the door.He was big and a little fat.Still, he was a fine lad, suffocated by his own goodness. Boarded the passenger ship in Passy and the return trip was fantastic. Made was at Mrs. Ducott's, met Mrs. von Reiselberg, and heard from her that the first act of "Alceste" was to be performed tonight at the Scola Hall.Madd encouraged me to go—and I took my desire to stay at home quietly as a sign of laziness, and went out again as soon as supper was over. I went too hastily, arrived at eight o'clock, and had to wait half an hour to open the door.I was the first, and with my elbows on the ticket gate, I went back to the first volume of the Goncourt Brothers. In the Scola Hall, the first act of "Alceste" was performed.An endless ensemble. Alceste came too late, and the audience was weary.To be honest, I was not as excited to see this performance as I was to play Alceste on the piano in Couverville.The excellent proportion of the melody line, the band feels insufficient, constantly loses the original meaning of the score, and the passion is fragmented... Gluck's works will be lost if they are not played.On the stage, the performance constantly demonstrates, or suggests, the symmetry of the general, and the harmony is no longer just according to time.Gluck joins the three-dimensional space of the stage as the fourth dimension.At a concert, singing Gluck's "one song" is all right; if you want to perform a whole act... I can't stand it. Kronitz (whom I met at the Scola Hall) seemed delighted to see me again, and accompanied me all the way to the Red Cross intersection.We talked about many things.I told him the story of so-and-so (whose name I can't remember).The man told me one day that a very respectable Englishman was taking him to London. "Well!" he said to me, "that Englishman, whom I have known for a long time; he let me go upstairs to his room when I was in Paris. He won't touch me. Yes! He won't touch me . . . you Do you know what he wants? ... He wants my hair." "how about you?" "For me, just cut it out and give it to him." Me: "What did he do with your hair?" He: "You don't need to ask! He's taking it for fun." It was for such "fun" that the British wanted to take him to London. Then, Kronitz said that he knew a girl who was worth one franc, and a "sir" was willing to give her fifty francs, on condition that she would do whatever she wanted. He asked her to do this: as soon as they arrived at the apartment where the husband lived, the woman changed into a bride's dress. "You stand at the far end of the room. I'm going to shoot you four times... Don't be afraid: the bullets have no bullets. On the fourth shot, you'll fall down and play dead." When the woman fell on the floor, the gentleman took out a coffin from the closet and put the kiln girl in it. Then, a strange scene appeared beside the coffin: there were screams, weeping, and madness. Kiss; if Sister Yao was outside, all of this could be done spontaneously. We are still interested in rewriting "The Story of That Gentleman". To see the little apartment in Rue Fortuny (in vain).Take the double-decker bus between the Panthéon and Courcelles, the round trip is very pleasant, keep this diary on the bus, and read Goncourt's. Walking through the Parc Monceau, I inspected the small shrubs and the winter coats they had been given. At White Magazine, Fred and Tad expressed interest in accepting Gaion's manuscript, even mentioning a contract.Their attitude is so friendly and enthusiastic, now I am a little worried, don't get involved with Gaion, since they accepted "The Comforter", then I have to give it to them, and I am determined to print 300 copies, besides, never It was also unreasonable for Valette to withdraw it.I'm going to go to the White Magazine office this evening to find out if they're adopting The Comforter. I'm very good.In the past few days, morning, afternoon, and evening are almost empty. In other words, I am full of thinking, writing and reading as I wish.I hardly ever turn on the piano. I can only spend a little time playing the piano every day, and now I can't spend more time.I start each day with the conviction that this day is important, and it's not hard for me to be convinced of it.Healthier body, calmer mood and clearer mind.Why is this "fate" of an artist blind?oh!Sober fate!Understanding, love, helping to bring your strength along...I eat less, I hardly smoke anymore, and I drink almost nothing but water every day... , disturbed, had to go into a café and down two whiskeys... I couldn't go.) What a strange winter this year!It wasn't cold at all, and every day we thought we'd see the leaves turn green.This afternoon, anyway, I have to go to the Louvre again.Kronitz suggested that I should read Clodion... I read all Goncourt at the same time, that is to say, I read Jules' correspondence, theirs, and Delzan's review of their works at the same time. Books... what a fragile nature! . . . I have thought much about them and about them; but writing down my thoughts, however poorly they may be, compels me to write slowly, which is what I am trying to avoid. Emile X works for his father who is a tailor.However, for the past two months, he has been semi-unemployed and has nothing to do almost all day long. He spends the whole afternoon in the swimming pool, arrives at one o'clock and leaves at seven o'clock.Is that why he is as beautiful as a Greek statue?He was a marvelous swimmer; nothing, I thought, could impose a rhythm, a harmony, on the muscles, strengthen and elongate them, than swimming.It was admirable that he took himself so completely naked; clothed, he seemed uncomfortable.Once he was in his overalls, I couldn't even recognize him.His skin is opaque and has a uniform luster, which must be due to his frequent nudity. The skin around his body is golden yellow and hairy; on the shallow socket of the sacrum; just where the ancient sculptor put a lock of animal hair, this lightly His undercoat had darkened; on this winter afternoon, leaning his arms against the pool wall, he posed as a statue of Praxiteles, lifting his snub-nosed, mocking face like Solo's. The Apollo of Keton stands so naturally, that he resembles a belated faun. He was fifteen years old, and had a younger sister and a younger brother; only three of the eleven children survived. 无论斯丹达尔、龚古尔，还是陀思妥耶夫斯基，都不可能从头再来。 《安慰者》确实被采纳了，而且没有令我为难的条件。亚历山大·纳唐松极力“劝阻”我别只印行三百册，但事情就这么着了。马德吕斯、马德吕斯太太、雅里、瓦洛通等人都在场。我同Ch-L·菲力浦一道出去，借着路灯光，我们检查了我带着的盖翁的出书合同。 在卢浮宫，久久地观赏远东馆的版画；走出展厅之后，又从第二个院子回到展厅，在文艺复兴时期的雕塑艺术品中，我怎么也没有找见克朗尼茨对我讲的克洛狄翁的作品。我在最新的馆藏品前流连了一阵（其中有乌东的两尊儿童小半身雕像、法尔康涅的泥塑半身像，以及罩在玻璃里面很有趣的卡尔波画稿），然后又到二楼展厅去发现新东西，走进家具新展厅，而在最后一间展厅里，终于看到我寻找的《酒神的女祭司》，“归入克洛狄翁的作品中”，但是正如我所预料的，是白色大理石雕而非泥塑，安放在一个相当沉重的“音箱”上面，并有铜饰和黑色大理石饰。应当承认，我觉得复制品比原作更美。这种白大理石，同这放荡的塑身不大相称……我穿越几个绘画展厅，在热里科的一幅自画像前驻足，这是不久前卢浮宫买进的。在古希腊—罗马的壁画展厅里，我遇见维雅尔和瓦洛通。 下午五时，在勒罗尔家喝“可可茶”，又见到维雅尔，谈话相当有趣，谈到赫库兰尼姆城的壁画、大卫雕像，等等。 何夫拉克也在场，他要主持“林记”艺术品的销售；他对我说，日本从未走在中国前面，情况恰恰相反，只是十二世纪之前，无论中国的什么作品，都极难弄到，因此在展览厅和博物馆中，日本的艺术品就更为古老了。 今天晚上，守在玛德莱娜身边，高声朗诵昂塞剧本的前两幕（《这些先生》）。 讨厌的一天，又推我后退了。幸好，我还能阅读和写作一直到中午。继而，小保尔来吃午饭，一直呆到傍晚，我一点空闲时间也没有了。 我把小保尔一直留到四点钟，就是希望谈话更有趣味，也就是说： 嘴没有什么遮拦，然而，我在他身边，就像寓言中的猫，想要看见镜子的另一面。看似深邃或神秘的东西，其实就是映像。 保尔看米什莱的《路易十四世》，非常惊诧国王有许多情妇。他养成一种优点： 不受任何事物的影响。他说道：“我看完这个（《波索尔国王历险记》），一刻钟之后就不想它了，就好像我根本没有阅读似的。”他认为这很有性格，依我看却是冷漠。同人或物有一种粗浅的关系，对他而言就足够了。他对任何人，也不希望多说些什么，只讲他那点事儿。 我不期望他能讲出大大出人意料的话，也不期望他能做出大事来。 我们走进集美博物馆。我本打算挑一个最好的日子来参观，可是，保尔妨碍我，星期天的观众也都那么愚蠢。我只是走个过场，确信有必要再来。 在雅克·布朗什家。暮色渐渐侵入安静的大画室。 布朗什对我讲他恼火的事，在午餐桌上，他听到勒贝那个大蠢货总打断巴雷斯的话，殊不知巴雷斯所言，只与他布朗什有关。 只剩下我们两个人了，布朗什和我便逐一回顾我们的共同朋友，抨击一些人物。我们贬一通布尔热和维泽瓦，而布朗什却把他们描绘成两个出色的聪明人。 “比他们的著作所能表现得更出色。”真叫人恼火。 ——布朗什向我断言，他认识的所有英才俊士，都是妙语连珠的健谈者。snort!雅克·布朗什，我的朋友，您一定不怎么把我放在眼里！您对我说，我的谈话属于您感兴趣的那类人；我心中不免发问，我也经常问过您，在我的谈话中您能发现什么，我所讲的一切，连我自己都不大感兴趣，我一开始叙述一件事，心中惟一考虑的就是尽快结束…… 我们谈起龚古尔兄弟： “据我所能掌握的情况，”雅克·布朗什说道，“他们的日记假得不能再假了；有些谈话我是在场的，还记得清清楚楚，肯定在他们的日记中，只能找见最没有意味的话，有时甚至完全转述错了。我敢向您保证，纪德，他们不善听。有一段他们谈到家父和我……实在荒唐；他们完全理解反了……对了，我还记得一次丰盛的晚餐，在座的有我们父子、爱德蒙·德·龚古尔和萨尔杜。萨尔杜语出惊人，绘声绘色，晚餐差不多从头至尾，他都大谈特谈法国大革命。龚古尔一言不发，但是气愤地频频向我父亲示意，那神态分明表示：'您听见啦？您听见啦！'晚上，我们用车送回龚古尔，而我们这样送客是常事。一离开萨尔杜，龚古尔就讲起来：'不像样！您都听见了吧？……在我龚古尔面前，在我这大革命的历史学家面前，在我……等等，他竟敢叙述……讲的简直漏洞百出……'我确信无疑，”布朗什又说道，“还是龚古尔搞错了；那个时期的情况，萨尔杜同他一样了解；龚古尔气愤的是，有萨尔杜，就显不着他了。因为，在餐桌上有一阵工夫，龚古尔想要提出异议，而萨尔杜立刻把他噎回去，就像老师对待学生。龚古尔不善听，他不理解有趣的话。我看他在玛蒂尔德公主身边就是这样。公主是一位奇女子，她心里和她身边，发生了一件最令人赞叹的事。这女子爱上波普兰，而且特别痴情，为避免门第不相当的婚姻，就梦想同他过一种合法的同居生活，像结了姻那样履行全部义务，彼此忠贞不二。家父和龚古尔是她的知情人……真没法说！龚古尔什么也没有看出来，什么也没有感觉到，什么也没有理解；尽管人家什么都对他讲了！他一点儿也不聪明。” “可是，”我说道，“他赋予这些人或那些人的谈话，在您看来再怎么失真，也几乎从来不是毫无趣味的。请注意，您越是贬低他不像个速记员，就越是提高他作为文学家、创作者的身份……” 继而，我们又谈起雨果，在布朗什的催促下，我给他背诵《静观集》和《世纪传说》中的几节诗，但是很糟糕，声音完全哽咽；因为他刚刚向我转述了某人？（我推想是亨利·德·雷尼埃）的说法：“纪德不喜爱诗。”我若想向他证明这一点，就无需换别种方式了。 在夏尔·纪德家用晚餐。餐后回家，几乎一整天未能工作，又气恼又伤心，写了这些笔记，心情才平静下来。 克朗尼茨向我讲述盖兰的一场“异”梦，而盖兰（画家）也似乎经常谈及： 一天清朗的夜晚（是很久以前的事了），他梦见遇到了基督，而那基督对他说道： “我在每条路上游荡，然而我并不自由。”声音十分真切，他一下子就醒了。 今天下午，夏尔-路易·菲力浦劝我喝了一小杯老烧酒，害得我直到晚上还头疼得像裂开似的。他像食品杂货铺伙计或油漆工那样，身穿一件本色白套衫，直接离开办公室，帽子也没有戴就跑到街上，很高兴有个由头来悠闲半小时，拉我到街头小酒馆。他这样子很好，显得很随和，有种平民的劲头。 昨天，他和尚文到他们“上流社会女士”那里。他向我讲述尚文在情场上的战况：“最能煽起尚文感情的，是她下身非常美。昨天他接触到衬裤的时候，感到有花边，于是再也控制不住，完全变得热情奔放了。” 我指给他看龚古尔中令人称奇的一段（第一卷第一百八十页，一八五七年五月十七日），这话又在《夏尔·德马耶》中采用了（应当抄录）。“对，”菲力浦说，“这恰恰同我们想的背道而驰。” “我想，”还有一天我们非要寻觅别的东西……菲力浦说道，“也许感在我们身上，要起异国风情在浪漫派那里所起的作用。” 玛德莱娜和我上午去咨询莫里斯，是关于Val的事件，今天晚上我回复埃卢安就更有把握了。 特奥·冯·赖塞尔贝格被他的画（《长沙发上三个小姑娘》）弄得疲惫不堪、烦躁不安。 “嗳……您何不丢下一段时间呢？” “不可能！我就不能停止想它。” “那好，您就突击一下干完。” “不可能！现在我一动笔，就准搞砸了……” 他一脸无奈相。 晚饭后，菲力浦给我们念《山鹑老爹》的最后两章。尤其倒数第二章，我们觉得很出色；菲力浦朗诵得非常好。 然后，我们谈起汪荣太太，又谈起维勒将军夫人，谈论了好长时间。冯·赖塞尔贝格太太讲的事儿很精彩，我应当笔录下来。 冯·R夫妇走后，菲力浦又给我念了一章（工人反对老板），逊色多了。他本人也知道。 今天我起得很晚，凌晨一点才睡，累得要命。 十一时玛德走了。她去凡尔赛盖克斯家用午餐。我给盖翁写了一封信，其实明天我就能见到他。到杜瓦尔粥店，吃了二十五苏的一顿午餐。 我去维德梅尔家，给卧床不起的阿莉丝送一束玫瑰花。oh!沮丧的探望！接待我的是父亲，给我的印象是不愿意让我瞧他女儿。他甚至不怎么容我打听她的身体状况。他同我说话，从头至尾佯装热情和好兴致，而我想像得出，等一会儿泪流满面，这张脸该是什么样子，我还记得，阿莉丝的弟弟小拉乌尔死后，阿尔贝对我说过的话：“我看到这个可怜的爱德华……真怪了；他就像一个农民那样啼哭。” 参观集美博物馆，大失所望。版画大多是二三流作品，大部分根本没有标明作者和创作日期，根本没有排列顺序。怎么能够看明白呢？而来此参观的目的，不正是要学会看出门道吗？不过，我还是逗留了一个多小时。 在“特罗卡德罗—东站”区间的双层公交车上，我看《臧迦诺兄弟》。 在外环路无休无止地走……我考虑，至少我想象许多情景，感到我梦想的模糊不清的小说，终于显示轮廓： 十二个人物之间的。然而，我会长久有控制能力不讲出去吗？ 今天早晨，收到马塞尔·德鲁安的信。信中指责菲力浦最近的两篇文章，他说得有道理。不过，我们每人，甚至是不知不觉地，都在雕刻他半身像的基座，几乎可以说就在雕刻自己的半身像。关键是置身于“光天化日之下”。 昨晚高声朗诵《这些先生》的第三幕和第四幕，还没完没了地誊写给公证人和瓦朗蒂娜的律师的信件。 夜晚多梦，休息很不好。 在塞纳河畔的布雷度过一天。 盖翁要宠坏了吗？他去看一名患者，耽误了一刻钟，让我呆在路上的小汽车旁边，回来就说一声抱歉让我久等了！ 难道还是这个盖翁，只给我发一封简单的电报：“9时火车东站。”而火车9时33分才到站，他说省两个字就为了省两苏钱。结果害得我打车到得相当早，等了他三刻钟。冯·赖塞尔贝格太太笑着对他说：“至少我希望您深受感动了。”“我，”盖翁高声说道，“我认为这很荒唐！” 正因为如此，我才格外喜欢他；对呀！讲这种话的人，不可能写出平庸之作。 我们谈起斯蒂文森，达夫雷向我讲述在英国，斯蒂文森主义常引起论战。有人写一篇愚蠢的吹捧文章，把斯蒂文森描绘成十全十美的圣徒……（?）另一篇“出色的”文章则回敬道：“不对，斯蒂文森并不好；我了解他，那是我生前好友。您说他谦虚： 其实不然，他虚荣心很强，不管单独一人还是有别人在场，他总爱照镜子。您说他才思极为敏捷： 其实不然，他的才思毫无敏捷可言，他是勤奋工作，才达到自己渴望的地步。他总是耐心地、巧妙地、细致地培养自己的特点，就连旅行，别人乘火车，他却设法乘船；别人乘马车，他偏要步行；他不在乎舒适，总是特别喜欢怪异和奇特。”这才是真正的赞扬。 维雅尔和我，我们意见一致（在勒罗尔家喝可可茶），遗憾将大卫的《萨宾女人》从墙裙赶走。必须将这幅画硬放在那儿，在光线不太足的位置，随意看一眼，就不再理解它的重要性和它的美了。安放得再高一点儿，它就会显得平庸了。出于吕德之手的出色的大卫半身像。 是冯·赖塞尔贝格太太讲述了初遇汪荣太太的情景。当时汪荣太太激动万分，一种亲热的情绪大肆发作，就像发神经似的：“哎哟！夫人，万分荣幸……我儿子总向我讲起您，我觉得见面准能认出您来……”于是冯·赖太太笑着说：“他一定对您说： 那是一个小个子女人，头发完全花白了！……”“哪里！夫人，您怎么能这么认为……亨利绝对不可能……”这时盖翁说：“不错，不错，我正是这样说的。” 今晚看完《这些先生》。头两幕实在好，最后一幕也实在糟。看完列切尼柯夫（《波德利普娜娅的仆人》）。现在我就能更好地认识高尔基了。然而在法国，谁了解列切尼柯夫呢？况且，这能引起谁的兴趣呢？ 这一天相当空乏，尽管我极力使之充实。上午用来写两封信（给罗森堡和勒伊特斯）——给勒伊特斯写一封信，就跟和瓦莱里进行一场谈话那样累人。和玛德莱娜一道参观卢浮宫，但是没有怎么投入进去。去瓦洛通家拜访不遇，去保尔·洛朗家拜访也不遇。 这一天就像应当是别人的日子；我们转入别的日子吧。 整个上午就忙于收信和写信；应付V（瓦朗蒂娜）的公证人和律师，应付鲁瓦尔，还要写给V本人——然后又送到邮局发出。趁着出门，就买些妙品的玫瑰，听说被人称作“1789年的光荣”。这种称谓一定是胡扯，因为我在任何花卉目录上都没有查到。也许是“1789年的法兰西”。 看完《臧迦诺兄弟》。圣勃夫评论斯丹达尔的文章很有趣，在公交车上看了一部分。 本想去参观卡尔纳瓦莱博物馆，但仅仅每周二、周四和周日开放。 到游泳场，尽管兴趣不大，但是为了确保下星期二盖翁在那儿能见到埃米尔。 埃米尔和另一个孩子折跟头，看着十分有趣。他们三人游泳棒极了。我下游泳池也尽力游好，还真有些进步。必须定期来游泳。 我回到家，同赛茜儿·古安（弗雷西纳太太）喝茶。我们久久谈论阿莉丝。 6时到《白色杂志》社。无法跟亚历山大说上话。弗雷德走了，而我的《扫罗》手稿就是给他送来的。我和瓦洛通聊了片刻，他坚持要我去他家，看看陀思妥耶夫斯基的一幅肖像、波德莱尔的一幅肖像；不久，两幅肖像就送交“自由美学”了。 勒阿弗尔之行——整个行程，直到换乘公交车，我阅读《古物陈列室》，至午夜才看完。 同弗朗克·巴塞在托尔托尼餐馆共进午餐，然后又一道去埃卢安家。从11点半到4点，谈论“案件”，几乎没有停。但事情一如既往，毫无进展。 在鲁昂同亨利舅妈共进晚餐。人极好。 毫无疑问，龚古尔令我恼火，对我再也没有任何教益了，——甚至在荒谬的方面。我想看雷斯的《回忆录》，但是手头没有。丹纳的《旧制度》篇幅太长。米什莱的《革命史》，我要留待到库沃维尔看。在书橱前翻找书，半小时过去了，头脑十分紧张，又渴望又游移不决，最后我拿起巴尔扎克的《通信集》——但只是权宜之计。 收到罗森堡的信。我一定得启程了吧？他信的结尾有点陶醉，非常美妙。 今天晚上，我的脸和头脑全是皱纹。这种情况最好不写作。 在JC·马德吕斯家呆了一两个小时。迷人的马德吕斯太太摆弄着戒指，坐在我半躺的长沙发上。JC·马德吕斯内穿一件白花点蓝色古式大背心，外套一件驼绒呢肥大的便袍，袍襟大敞着，使得X一进门就说：“怎么，您生病了？” 马德吕斯讲述：“我从咖啡馆出来，遇见亨利·德·雷尼埃。他抽点时间来……” 马德吕斯不肯原谅亨利·德·雷尼埃，还写：“Schehezade”。 保尔·瓦莱里的温柔，显得又幼稚又可爱。谁也没有把友谊理解得这么透，这么体贴入微。我对他的感情极为深挚；要由他讲的一句句话来削减这种感情。他是我的一个最好的朋友，假如他是聋哑人，我就不会找比他更好的朋友了。 状态极佳，适于工作、谈话……干什么都好。令人烦恼的是，这种好状态能同时干所有事，或者什么也不干。今天早晨我若是擦皮鞋，也能显示才干。 在《白色杂志》社的办公室里，有鲍尔、卡普斯、米尔博、安德烈·莫雷尔、阿莱克斯、纳唐松、盖翁。 鲍尔那人说话的范围，取决于听者的重视程度。他讲完每句话，总时而瞧瞧这人，时而看看那人，分别对每个人讲话。他边讲边用手打着节拍，但是手指贴在一起，仿佛戴着独指手套；他的眼神也一样，始终毫无表情。 卡普斯说话精审、明确，总是言简意赅。 米尔博话多而突兀，像他文章一样甜美，也像他文章一样愚蠢。 雷斯的《回忆录》。很久没有品尝这种快意了。风格奇特，语句仿佛全由名词和动词组成，用足跟走路。既类似孟德斯鸠，又类似圣西门，但是比圣西门要矫揉造作和平庸。 昨天，同玛德参观解剖标本博物馆、古生物博物馆，脑海总萦绕着龚古尔的这句话：“植物园中……造物主没有花费多少想象力。动物重复的造型泛滥成灾。”（第一卷231页） 思想狭隘，与其欣赏或非议的狭隘等量齐观。老实说，拥有这类思想的人，侈谈上帝而一窍不通。这就不再是无神论，而是愚昧了。没有发现更多的荒谬而失望！寻觅并感到遗憾，只因现有的形体已经足够，根本不可能有大量的新发现，而适应性趋向于简化，趋向于日益扩大的局部一致性；美也正是这样慢慢得以体现。不善于欣赏简约，不赞赏取消无用的，一味追求怪异、虚假和莫名其妙的东西……小聪明的确切的标志，见木不见林，抓住芝麻不放，自以为在组合，实则并列置放。 从古生物展厅到比较解剖展厅，比什么都更能。有些种类为什么消失了？……总归是有原因的。起初，大自然推出多少不合理的奇形怪状，而后却不可能维持。 去《水星》社呆了片刻，带去达夫雷的译稿（翻译了斯蒂芬·菲利普斯的坏剧本： 《埃罗德》，剧中的感情戏，仅为了支撑人物的行为，就像亚伦搀扶着摩西）。 晚上和Em在法兰西喜剧院，看《安德洛玛刻》的演出。大失所望： 巴尔泰演得过分温文尔雅了。她保持贵妇相。观众狂热地为她鼓掌，让人感到他们在她身上所喜爱的并不是“风格”（他们根本就不懂），而是“得体”。她的优点是排他性的。她的价值就在于无缺陷。 穆奈大多情况值得赞赏。 至于剧本，我必须马上重读。演出中一种马里沃式的、故弄风雅的悲剧，我觉得极不舒服。 如今，演拉辛剧作的演员，最大的误区，就是该让艺术占上风的地方，极力让天性抢尽风头。苏姗娜·德波雷希望演《淮德拉》，她说，因为她了角色……首先应当感到的是拉辛。 这不是一部命题小说，根据尚文的叙述，我依稀看到的，恐怕是一部时代小说。cough!诚实的小伙子，他叙述得太差了！ 平静的一天，由恺撒·弗兰克、巴尔扎克（《皮埃尔·格拉苏》）、雷斯陪伴。给Em高声朗读拉福格的。 晚上，去小酒馆与菲力浦和尚文相聚。晚会没有意思，这类晚会由于无事可干，抽烟多于聊天的时间。 巴黎雪景美不胜收。 又弹了好长时间钢琴（五六个小时）。 今天上午，马克斯对我说：“古典戏剧只有三个角色，是我始终希望扮演的，即俄瑞斯特斯、尼禄、波利厄克特；只有三种古装我希望穿上，即朱利阿努斯、埃拉加巴卢斯、亨利三世。” “在尼斯，”马克斯说，“我没有早些进城——是头一天，亲爱的——一名小车夫从高高的座位上俯身问我： “'洛林全套吗，先生？' “于是我就问他，'洛林全套'是什么意思。他就像打哈哈似的： “'唔！先生，这就是说，一直走到岩石尽头，然后再回来。' '“车夫倒无恶意。” 我问道：“结果怎么样？” “怎么样，我就稍微给他手淫了一会儿，然后我们便回来了……可是，洛林在那里，名气大得很，他出门只好戴上帽子，夜晚还带着两个彪形大汉……等等。” 经过O（奥贝尔康）街，准备盖翁回来。 有朝一日，我一定得写《司酒官》。不知道为什么总把检察官描绘成怪物和卑鄙小人。能引起使命感的事物，就显得美。我考虑关于约瑟夫的绝妙的一出戏，尤其考虑牢房那场戏： 约瑟夫夹在面包总管和司酒官之间。 一路上，我就阅读，品味雷斯的《回忆录》。欢快的风格把我迷住。我划出不少段落，晚上好念给Em听。 今天早晨一醒来就高兴，在镜子里看到自己。好兆头。不顺的日子，当然也照镜子，但映出我的是一副可憎的面孔。 我感到精力充沛；我的手指灵活，不会拖累我的思想。不顺的日子，写字都困难，字写得七扭八歪，也就歪曲了我的思想。不顺的日子，我抽烟控制不住，最后总弄得头昏脑涨。 从而得出一个结论，惟一令我满意的，有利于我的“不道德”。 上星期二也如此，我非常“出色”。我的意念在头脑里畅快地运行，而我每次只想表述一个念头。不顺的日子，各种念头蜂拥而至，一片混乱，我使出全身解数也难以梳理清楚。 星期三也一样，几乎一夜未眠，我反倒觉得头脑清醒，精神饱满。 恺撒·弗兰克的美妙的管风琴曲（三首赞美歌），每天晚上我都投入再投入。 昨晚又拿起勒贡特·德·李勒（《莫纳的屠杀》）；纯粹而完美的满足。 上星期二，盖翁在菜市场一带游荡许久，直至凌晨三四点钟（他的火车六点才发车），才闯进新桥附近的一家简陋的小咖啡馆。里面一大帮混混和窑姐儿；这圈人倒也没有什么意思，只是进来一位老先生，就不同了；而这位老先生，如果不是喝得醉醺醺的，应该是很体面的人。他被许多人围住，因为他请喝酒，说话又多，舍得出钱，给大家充当玩偶。大家拿他寻开心，逗他恼火，逗他大笑或者流泪。有时，他似乎做出决定，说道“我得走了”；他站起身，重又坐下，没有意志决定留下，也没有意志决定离去。他任凭别人蒙骗、取笑、窃取，争了一会儿，接着又服软了。别人在他身边演戏，有一个假装同情他，另一个蔑视他，一个妓女还假装爱上他；有人抢走他的帽子，有人揪他的头发……（盖翁也装模作样，跟大家一同作戏，他一身兼为老先生、杈杆儿和窑姐儿；由于全是用声调表现出来，也就没什么可写的了。） 坐在盖翁身边的一名杈杆儿，对其他人表示极大的蔑视。 “真讨厌，真不要脸，”他见有人又抢走几枚钱币。便说道。“您知道吗，先生（这次，所谓先生，就是盖翁），每天晚上，总演同一台戏。同一台，对。这位先生天天晚上来这儿。每天早晨六点左右才回家，口袋里总少掉六十法郎。真讨厌！” “你知道你那位老先生是谁吗，”我对盖翁说，“就是那个单身汉。” 阅读，弹钢琴。（弗兰克的《序曲、咏叹调、终曲》）。 盖翁来找我，我们一同去O街，不过，我躲开一点儿。况且，盖翁只有一会儿工夫，四点钟还要上火车。我同他分手，又到沼泽区（巴黎第四区）散步，走了很长时间。 继而，去夏蓬街执达吏家中，了解克莱尔姨妈那件小官司的情况。 然后，我又到塞巴斯托波尔大街附近，洗蒸汽浴和淋浴，回到家中比较早，晚饭前还工作一小时。晚上很安静，用来阅读，十分艰难地看完《纽沁根银行》。不过，我也寻求一点安慰，看了孟德斯鸠的《英国纪事》，等等。 上午工作，阅读雷斯著作中的几本小杂志。 约赛特·德鲁安来进午餐，然后同玛德莱娜去法兰西喜剧院看演出。约赛特的