Thursday, 28 February 1878

Alexandre — my uncle Alexandre — arrived this morning.
I go to the atelier nonetheless; only at lunch and dinner, instead of quarrels, we recount the news from Russia.
Etienne wants me to paint his portrait. I have begun it today.
There is something between Cassagnac and me, [Words blacked out: I
mean to say] that something is broken...
It is the monk's hood that was, if not the cause, at least the precursor. That hood bodes ill.
In any case, for the moment I do not set excessive store by it — I shall know how to find my way back to him, provided... he keeps himself.