Thursday, 27 May 1880

How beautiful it is in the morning — now pay attention, I am beginning.
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; afterwards 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-Élysées 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 the fellow locked up. Besides, if he loved me, he would know how to lock himself up, and he would not wear the beaming look he had today at not seeing me. What does it matter to me to tell myself once and for all that Casimir does not love me! Well, there — it is done.
Antoine came to make arrangements with me for the Grand Prix at Auteuil on Sunday. Antoine is like a son to Mme Gavini, so we stay chatting on our own. But here it is ten o’clock. I have been up for thirty-eight hours.

Notes

The first appearance of Les Saintes Femmes — the Marys at the empty tomb — the life-size picture Marie meant to paint outdoors in Palestine and never painted; it occupied her until the spring of 1884. All the posthumous catalogue of 1885 records of it are a project, a sketch and one study, whose whereabouts are now unknown. ↩