Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 30 December 1880

I went to Tony's and return somewhat comforted. He strongly encourages me to do this painting. I am perfectly capable of doing it life-size, he says; it will be very amusing. Good study and painting at the same time. One must not be accepted as a favor, but on merit; if it goes badly, he will tell me, but he believes I shall manage well enough, and I decide to do it.
Then we talked about me in general; we agree on this point, that the qualities of a painter are slow to reveal themselves, but he says that very often this is the effect and then it comes, and that besides, nothing has ever been demanded after three years of study — that I want to go too fast, that he is convinced I shall arrive. I know not what else.
In sum, I told him so much not to handle me gently, I insisted so much on everything I thought would bring the most frankness, that I believe he was sincere. Besides, he has no interest in lying to me, and then what he told me is not exactly enormous. So here I am, a little encouraged again and ready to do the painting.
What a fine and kind fellow this Tony is; he says that the most gifted among them arrived at a small beginning of something only after about ten years of work. That Bonnat after seven years of study was nothing. That he himself did not exhibit until his eighth year. In sum, I know this, but since I was counting on arriving by twenty, you understand my reflections.
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At midnight, suspicions come to me. Tony seems too confident in my abilities. I seek some dreadful trap. It is not possible that he believes me capable of it.
Dinner at the Bailleuls'. A heap of women who begin to play cards afterward; so de Daillens and I set ourselves apart and play the noble game of puns and word-chains.