Thursday, 15 November 1877

The competition for places was held — a head sketch in one hour.
One girl had a nervous fit bordering on epilepsy; she tore up and ate her sketch.
It will be judged on Saturday; I have no anxiety in any case, and if I come last it will be no more than just. I have thirty days of study; all the others have at least a year each to put it roughly, without mentioning what they have studied outside this studio — and they have studied seriously, being professional artists.
It is that rogue Breslau who worries me. She is admirably organised, and I assure you she will break through — and significantly. I cannot get it into my head that she has been drawing at Julian's for nearly five hundred days and I for thirty — that is, at Julian's alone she has studied more than fifteen times what I have. If I am truly gifted, in six months I shall match her. There are astonishing things in this world, but there are no miracles in such matters — and I want one! I am uncomfortable at not being the strongest after one month.