Wednesday, 10 March 1880

We go to the Mouzays’.
Maman thinks I go there because young Kent will be there, and because old Mme Kent told us on Saturday that her scoundrel of a son has 50,000 francs a year and an old cocotte. I would gladly go for that if I believed he really had that much money.
I go because my painting is not going well and I want some amusement. I am looking my best, all in white crêpe, pearls around my neck, and no gloves.
Julian, whom I find there and with whom we often chat, compares me to the heroine “of certain novels we have read, when she appears in the second act of the Blonde Venus” (a word to those who have not read the vile Nana) “you understand,” continues Papa Julian, “between ourselves, we understand each other and you understand how far the comparison goes; besides, between artists, do not protest, you are flattered.”
The fact is that there is a description of a woman in it done by a master’s hand.
While they sing, play, and recite in the salon, I go off to form a little circle near the buffet with Julian, Soutzo, and Kent.
I enjoy myself. We make the acquaintance of General Jeanningros, his wife and his daughter, a little thing who acted in a play the other day with Mme de Daillens. A general in uniform and decorations looks very well.
Maman, I believe, spoke of Mme Adam (A., damn!) with Gaillard, who said that we have enemies among the friends of that lady.
But here is what is happening in Russia: Paul and his fiancée were entering the church to be married when M. Bashkirtseff arrived with a letter from the archbishop, and everything was wrecked.
Think of the scandal for the young lady...