Saturday, 21 December 1878

Ah! well, really! it would be funny if it were not so vile and disgusting.
Once again M. Georges is being tolerated and they hide it from me. The night before last he came and shouted in the night and frightened everyone.
Nadine is stunned and revolted. I was shocked and furious on learning from Paul that this monster was there and that my family was tolerating him and hiding it from me. I burst into tears, praying God to make me die. This happened yesterday.
crossed outAnd when I went to tell Jacques to drive that horror out, my mother jumped out of bed, ill as she was, and began to [Gap] more of saying that I beat you. And my mother added seriously, in front of everyone, several times: — Yes, you beat me and [Gap] me. It is I who have fits [Gap] against me and if he [Gap] me.
I was supposed to go to the theatre with Mme Gavini; I went — and the good woman went into raptures over my healthy look, my pretty face, and my rested air. Blanc was there. Paul spoke to him in the corridor and told me that “Monsieur looks as if he had stolen something”.
Nothing good today. Painting is not going well. I think it will take me more than six months to equal Breslau.
She will certainly be an extraordinary woman. Just think, she is thoroughly depraved, though she has a few good impulses; spiteful and a liar, in short... A mixture I would call bizarre, if the bizarre were not so common nowadays.
I believe that to complete the campaign of slander
crossed outthat my family, my tender mother, ran off to Nice this evening, no doubt to escape my blows. It is real madness. May God forgive her — I cannot; I despise them with all my heart and do not hate them, because I wish them no harm. And if this woman dies, it is her brother who will have killed her. They will say it was I.
Painting is not going well... No, you see, it is useless to struggle. I am an utterly lost creature. There is no use mincing words.
Blanc’s embarrassed air began just when people began to talk of a marriage for Cassagnac. That is to say, well before the marriage and the letters — nearly six weeks before.
written across the page
and even well before that — we were scarcely settled at 71 Champs-Élysées when Blanc already never spoke of Cassagnac except in an embarrassed way.
I shall go to the Opera, and in that way, masked, I shall find out what he knows.
Come now, my girl, you think Breslau painted better than you after two and a half months. But she was painting still lifes or plaster casts. And six months ago Robert-Fleury was saying to her the very words he said to me this morning:
— It is disjointed, the tone is raw and cold; you must get out of that. Do one or two copies.
She did not die of it after ten months of painting, so shall I die of it after two and a half?