Sunday, 12 May 1878

I have painted my first still life — a blue porcelain vase with a bunch of violets and a small, worn red book beside it, on a size-3 canvas. This way I shall not stop drawing, and I shall accustom myself to colour by devoting two or three hours each Sunday to it; every Sunday I will do something different.
I received Goldsmid and Mme de Mouzay with her daughter while painting.
It is very hot and I am tired. Well — last year it was hot and I was tired too, at the same time of year, and I thought I was pining for Larderel; the year before that, Antonelli; and the year before that, yet another creature upon whom I heaped the blame for the excess of heat and the stupor caused by solitude.
Last night the monster came knocking at the door for money. My mother rushed towards me as though to prevent me from murdering someone, and I was rude to her. Then I went back into my little sitting room, which was dark, and falling to my knees I swore before God never to answer that woman again, never to reproach her — and when she commits some hideous kindness or puts me beside myself, to be silent or to leave! Reproaches, pleas, insults — they serve only to heap Heaven’s anger upon my head.
Besides, she is quite ill — misfortune comes quickly, and I should never console myself for any wrong I might have done her.
Maman, Dina, and Marie went to the Bois, and near the Grand Hôtel where they always go to buy the Russian newspapers for grandfather, they encountered M. Marx — you remember, the one from last summer at Wiesbaden — and Audiffret, the Surprising One. That last, surprising but stupid Émile, is coming from Nice and going to London. He is said to have aged a great deal and grown uglier. No matter — he is nonetheless the grisette of our Nice Latin Quarter, whom one will always remember with a smile, though with a certain distaste.

Notes

A grisette: a young working girl of the Paris Latin Quarter, in legend the companion of students. Marie applies the word to Audiffret. ↩