Wednesday, 29 December 1880

Now I am afraid to go to the meeting! I do not hear well enough. O sorrow.
Nothing serves me anymore! I could form connections at Madame de Brimont's with remarkable men, and I can no longer! I hear wrongly, I [blacked-out words: shall remain] foolish, I do not answer quickly or correctly. O atrocious torture. My principal, my only charm is lost. I look absent or stupid.
Even Saint-Amand, who has just left here — he has not guessed yet, thanks to the disjointed nature of our conversations, and when he declaims I do not need to listen... but I do not amuse him. Do you remember a luncheon during which he was so charmed by me that he took it into his head to bring me notable friends? Well, that morning, by chance, I could hear, and... Ah, you see, it is worse than death! My God, is it going to last?
Julian and the architect Dubel came up; it will cost me one hundred fifty or two hundred francs. Movable panel, etc. The improvement is thus for Julian; in addition, he will have the painting.
But now I find I would prefer Amelie's lot... this life-size subject will be so dry, with modern and simple dresses...
What makes it amusing is the diversity of poses, of getups, the funny things we sometimes put on — large hats to protect ourselves from the light, sometimes contraptions made of newspapers, scraps of drawings, extraordinary visors, not to mention shawls, the English girls' aprons, my Capuchin cloak, I know not what. It is she who does it, and my fancy proposes fifty amusing things for the painting.
In short, one always prefers what one does not have. I was proud to do life-size. Amelie wept with rage. Now I would like to exchange with her — which, seeing this, she will never consent to. I shall propose nothing, besides... The partition is going to be opened, but I shall retract if necessary...
And to think that the other evening, before Villevieille, Julian said to me: prove to those who weep that the subject is excellent and do what they declare impossible and difficult. I had only to choose. But enough — it is done. Julian says that several people, among them those who weep, have often said that he exaggerated what I could do, and that he was giving me this painting to prove that he is right and that I can do what I can do.
"Even mediocrely executed," he says, "this painting will be a great success, but very great! And well executed, which I do not doubt it will be, you will see... But a great success, everyone will go see it, and then... in short, a success, honorable mention, medal, I know not what?"
How refuse such reasoning? But now that all this is launched, he leaves me the responsibility for everything, even the partition, and the subject... Well, that is his manner — one is from the Vaucluse or one is not. Only it throws me off by making me doubt everything.
What is dreadful is the ears!