Thursday, 27 May 1880

How beautiful it is in the morning — attention, I begin.
I first saluted the day before the open window with the harmonious sounds of the harp, like the priests of Apollo, and then my two women before the sepulchre. I want to go to Jerusalem and paint this picture there with faces from that region, in the open air.
Mme Gaupillat came by; afterward we go to the Bois, my aunt and the two forsaken women. I nearly fell asleep ten times.
My aunt dines alone at Mme "Bisailleul's," as Anitchkoff calls her. We were returning home when we met Soutzo coming down the Champs-Elysees in a carriage with another civilian — probably going to Mme de Lesseps'. The Audiffrets are no doubt also invited to dinner at the same time as Casimir. It is vexing, but if I am not more sure of myself than that... for it is impossible to keep this fellow shut in. Besides, if he loved me, he would know how to shut himself in and not have that beaming look he had today when not seeing me. What does it matter if I tell myself once and for all that Casimir does not love me! Well, it is done.
Antoine came to arrange with me for the Grand Prix at Auteuil on Sunday. Antoine is like Mme Gavini's son, so we stay chatting alone. But here it is ten o'clock. I have been up for thirty-eight hours.