April 14, 1881.—Frightful night; the fourteenth running, in which I have been consumed by sleeplessness....
April 15, 1881.—To-morrow is Good Friday, the festival of pain. I know what it is to spend days of anguish and nights of agony. Let me bear my cross humbly.... I have no more future. My duty is to satisfy the claims of the present, and to leave everything in order. Let me try to end well, seeing that to undertake and even to continue, are closed to me.
April 19, 1881.—A terrible sense of oppression. My flesh and my heart fail me.
“Que vivre est difficile, ô mon coeur fatigué!”