Saturday, 1 June 1878

It is not a misfortune for posterity — but it prevents me from making myself understood.
Yorke comes to invite us to go to the ball with her this evening and to obtain invitations. If not for this evening then for another — I go to Caroline's, and in three hours she makes me a dress in which I look as if wrapped in a cloud. The whole thing is a piece of crêpe anglais that she drapes about me and which makes me slender, elegant, tall. The top of the bodice is defined by the selvedge of the crêpe itself, which clings to the skin. A wide ribbon at the waist fastened by the eternal copper buckle. Over the train is thrown a great bunch of white roses.
The Lacons and the Fosters dined with us.
My head was not very good, but the painted foot had merit.
I am reading my books on magnetism. After all, what pleases me most this evening is to go to bed and think of something amusing as I fall asleep.
I am jealous of Breslau — she does not draw in the least like a woman. Next week I shall work so hard that you shall see... The afternoons will be devoted to the Exhibition and the Salon. But the following week... I want to draw well, and so it will be.
Berthe writes to me.