Tuesday, 20 April

The Howards were so ugly last night, so badly built, so badly dressed, that I am extremely pleased about it.
I cannot manage to compose the letter about the portrait. I am afraid of appearing ridiculous. I shall see if the inspiration comes tomorrow — without inspiration one can do nothing.
We are fully into spring and there is still some society about. I dreamed of the devil. I walked with Rickard, then we get into the carriage with Collignon, in front of whom I feel embarrassed to speak English.