Wednesday, 5 November 1879

I dream that Julian brings me the medal; I get to the atelier and learn that Amélie has it. Nobody was put out by that, she ought to have had it so long ago; but what is staggering is that they very nearly gave it to an Englishwoman who has been at Julian’s only three weeks and does not know much, though she had worked before. Sarah is second, the Englishwoman third, and de Mertens fourth.
It is all so astonishing and so stupid that I am not upset by it. Only, there is punch to drink and one has to be amiable, or people would think I am envious... Fie! I may be astonished, but not envious. Afterwards I go to old Mme Mouzay’s; she is going to introduce me to Rane, a true friend of the sun, that one, who owes her (la Mouzay, when she was a linen-maid in the Emperor’s household) the commutation of his sentence: [One word crossed out] instead of Cayenne; Lambessa, from which he escaped? Now he has been amnestied and is a friend of Gambetta’s as before. Rane was not a Communard; he had been compromised in a student affair under the Empire.
The Goldsmids have dined and are in the drawing room; I lie down in my studio, nice and dark, nice and comfortable, the doors shut tight. Peaceful, peaceful. When one is not happy, one must at least be peaceful.