Thursday, 16 May 1878

I took a large shawl from Maman, cut a slit for the head, and sewed up the sides leaving openings for the hands. This makes the simplest and most beautiful garment in the world — it has but one fault: it is not white — and even that is not truly a fault. This shawl, falling in classical folds, gives one an oriental, biblical, strange air.
And it is my dear family who witness all this — who listen to me play, sing, improvise, swear, joke... Horror and profanation!
The sounds of the guitar mingle with words in Cassagnac’s manner; the sensitive, touching song fades to make way for a reflection as Voltairean as it is useless.
In short... at dinner an idea came to me. Extraordinary, phenomenal, preposterous things happen in this world. Still stranger things have happened — why should it not come to pass that Dina and I marry Popaul and Gambetta? I would die of amusement. As for which of us would take Popaul and which Gambetta, I would say that need not concern us... How immoral I am!
You know that Schaeppi is not pleased. She thought no doubt that since I am rich I ought to give her 500 francs.
While I was preparing to paint my skull, having — in keeping with my character — trumpeted the plan beforehand, Breslau painted already one this week. That teaches me to be less talkative. This made me say in conversation with others that truly my ideas must be worth something, since there are imbeciles who pick up even the worst and most cast-off of them.