Thursday, 9 January 1879

The competition has been on since Monday, but the model is frightful — I told them I would rather make a soup than paint that head.
This evening a second grand music festival. It is held at the Hippodrome, which holds more than fifteen thousand spectators and is lit by electricity. It is a sort of musical Salon, like the Salon of painting. All Paris was there. I was with the Gavinis — but dressed in a manner that was, to say the least, insignificant: neither pretty nor distinguished. The effect fell flat.
I say nothing of the music, since I was with Mme Gavini and had to chatter and listen to nonsense. I should like to treat myself to a good evening at the Opéra, but alone or with de Daillens, so as to listen. Massenet must have had a fine moment when they gave him an ovation after his third act of The King of Lahore (very little appreciated and poorly understood at the Opéra).
I envied him at that moment, and I envied his wife — or his mistress.

Notes

Massenet’s opera (1877). ↩