Wednesday, 2 January 1878

On the sheet is painted a champagne glass with the foam brimming over.

The Baron d’Alt called.

Berthe came to the atelier; fortunately the model was not there, having got drunk. One of the students posed for the head; I did not work — there was setting up to do, helping, and so on. Julian is very pleased but Amélie would gladly eat me alive, because I am becoming more important every day.

As Berthe and I were in Julian’s office, he remarked that it seemed to him that for some time now people had not been getting on so well.

— Good heavens, Monsieur, you know how it is — these things come and go; besides, I concern myself only with drawing.

— Oh, Mademoiselle, you must expect a little trouble. You know how it is — when one stands still or moves slowly, everyone finds one charming and talented; but when one begins to alarm those who were accustomed to being first... Ah, well — one is exposed to a thousand little things, sometimes disagreeable ones.

Then, accompanied by Paul, we go skating¹ at the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. Apropos of Paul — he has given me nothing but pleasure since his arrival. I am glad of it. He tells us about his idyll with the little Princesse Eristoff, sister of those two wretches you know. It is the story of Paul and Virginie — precisely — except it has lasted only a few months. There is even a Dominique, a Mayer the gardener, the maidservant, Paul’s friend. It is touching and charming. Mme Tutcheff has spirited the little one away, and I believe these barbarians, these villains, want to marry her to Pacha — that stout peasant with lofty sentiments. I shall rage over it as if it were my own affair. They have managed things very well... Paul is away and they will take advantage of it, if only to spite my mother’s son. Oh, the villains! The villains!

Paul is only eighteen. In face and figure he looks at least twenty-eight or thirty.