Tuesday, 17 December 1878

I have rarely been so morose, so lost. Paul behaves well — I find him almost too well-behaved. Only yesterday did he come home late at night; Mlle Oelsnitz, in her innocence, was waiting up for him with supper and tea, as she is in the habit of doing for us. Naturally he would not take anything.
I rest only when working, and the two hours of freedom left to me I spend reading or dozing. Never, never have I been so listless, so stupefied, so discouraged, and so sceptical. Nothing in the world binds me to anything in the world. I work, but like a machine.
I must produce one good study and receive some compliments — that will reattach me to artistic glory and give me a reason to exist.