Monday, 13 May 1878

For the afternoon positions lots are drawn, and the draw had assigned me first place — but since I had not yet arrived, the one after me took the spot. Whereupon I arrive, and Breslau informs me that I must place myself last, as I have forfeited my position.
This has never, never been done before — one let the positioned person be and placed oneself after her, but one was never relegated to the back of the queue, though that may be the rule. I had M. Julian asked about it; M. Julian replied that the rule existed but had never been applied, and that he found it outrageous to play such a trick on me. I had left in fury, but I returned to say that my absence would give "too much pleasure to a rabble of scoundrels, imbeciles, jealous creatures, etc."
Amélie comes to calm me down because I am threatening to leave the studio; the maid arrives with consolations, and I reply to them that they need not worry — that of course I would work; that nothing was being done that was not in the house's customs, since filthy things were routinely done there; and I would be quite foolish to waste my time, as that would delight everyone. There were twenty-five minutes left until the hour.
— One has managed, said I, to make me lose one o'clock to two o'clock — but these twenty-five minutes I shall employ in calming myself so as to draw well, and in infuriating the wretches who, out of jealousy, resort to such... pettiness.
These twenty-five minutes I employ in driving them like slaves. To go and shout at these scoundrels would not be worthy of me — so I take an armchair in the little salon and, on the pretext of speaking to a Swedish girl and to the maid, I say quite loudly a great many charming things, concluding by declaring that all the fault is mine, for having lowered myself by associating with God knows whom, and for having taken the part of a mangy dog who richly deserved to be kicked — and that they are not even dogs but insects, which I would gladly crush under my heel, were I not afraid of soiling my pretty shoes.
And after all that, you may perhaps say it is not an infamy that Paul de Cassagnac marries Mlle Acard instead of me!
My aunt arrived this evening. I had to beg for a quarter of an hour to obtain 150 francs. It is truly shameful. If they did not have them, or if I were asking from caprice — but when I ask, it is always to pay for the studio, or the anatomy teachers, or something of the kind.
Schaeppi's portraits were being produced for 20 francs. Estimating the dreadful feet she made at a generous rate, they are worth 50 francs. 50 and 20 make 70. But since I had once said I would give 100 francs for well-made feet, and since she had then to make them, it was understood that she would receive 100 francs given my open-handed ways.
These vile women have power over me because I have
shown them a thousand kindnesses.
I spit on them and throw them 150 francs to wipe themselves with.
I need to see Popaul again — on business.