Tuesday, 20 January 1880

I return from the studio and learn that old Madame Gavini came expecting to find me keeping to my room, and that she is furious that I do not take care of myself in the manner of old people.
And then the tickets promised for tomorrow have been given to Mme de Rothschild. There you are! It is not that I care about tomorrow's session, but I am angry because that old fool Gavini thinks it is better that I not go there on account of Arnaud. Always that wretched Arnaud. Gavini does not say so to me, but I can guess... Besides, such as I am, I must either hold the world beneath my heel or live in an ivory tower, alone.
I would gladly give 10,000 francs for a permanent pass. To no longer have to ask for tickets, to be independent!
O sterile aspirations, sterile and miserable intrigues, sterile discussions with my family, sterile evenings spent speaking of what I would like without taking a single step to make it happen. Sterile and miserable efforts!