Tuesday, 19 February 1878

The presence of Georges and the money worries make me utterly miserable.
Add to that that Breslau and Schaeppi have begun painting my feet, and it is not going as I wish. I could burst into tears over nothing.
There is a ball this evening at Mme Wright's — it promises to be charming! I shall not go. Such amusements tire me, prevent me from working, and bore me.
Those feet! Those feet! Those feet!
Dina has gone to the ball with Mme Yorke.
Those feet! I shall have them done by a painter of talent, and Schaeppi shall finish my portrait.
You understand — with feet, it must be admirably well done, especially when it is to be given as a gift to Paul, whom I love better than a brother, according to Alexis.