Wednesday, 16 June 1880

We were to have gone to Saint-Marceaux’s with Mlle Graham, but I had not let her know beforehand, she was out, and I sent word to the great man, who was expecting us.
This evening Soutzo was to have accompanied Graham and me to a lecture by Hubertine Auclert (the apostle of women’s rights), but it did not take place, and we go to the Salon at eight o’clock where I run into Saint-Marceaux.
We exchange pleasantries, and I say foolishly: you never come to see us. — I am so busy! — You see, making reproaches like that is stupid; now I shall feel that Saint-Marceaux is annoyed whenever he meets me. No, you see, I must amount to something. Men like Saint-Marceaux must see someone in me. Careful — I have only a few months left before exhibiting at the Salon. And to think I meant to go to Petersburg to get married! No, I am staying here, I shall work, and I will not go until the winter of 1881–1882. I will be only twenty-three, and in the world’s eyes only twenty-two. What the deuce, that will still do.
Yes, I am staying and I shall work. Oh yes, oh yes. You shall see. I am well, almost entirely well; tomorrow I go back to the atelier in earnest.
Nervo came, believing me ill from what Mme Gavini had told him.