Friday, 14 January 1881

Here is a piece by Cassagnac. It is short but stupid. Consider the second half of the article, underlined by me. There are proofs one dares not set out, so convinced is one that the whole universe must have set them out before one, and that is why certain glaring absurdities are accepted. Still, I cannot resist the pleasure of saying: since the Republic is so faithful a copy of the régime you mourn, why do you drag it through the mire? But really, it is too easy to get the better of Popaul’s logic; and so, while recognising this gentleman’s true merit, I quite understand that I may have been wild about him at moments, but I do not understand how I could have dreamed of an ideal union with him.
At the atelier there is a coolness between Amélie and me, without my having done anything whatever; she is less friendly and no longer accepts my lunch. I loathe equivocal situations, so I asked her, in front of everyone and laughing, the reason for this, and she answered me in the same tone that it was so as not always to be fed by me, and to have the right to say rude things to me if she pleases. We laughed about it together, but that girl is false by nature, and besides, her passion absorbs whatever good feelings she might have had.
In short it is not amusing, me in one corner, her in another, holding a kind of competition. I am obliged to take away all my portfolios every time, and in spite of that she can easily see what I am doing, and I cannot see what she is doing; such is the lie of the land. And once the picture is begun, how am I to protect myself? She stays on at the atelier late after everyone has gone, and comes back for the evening class, and I am not there.
So this is what I have hit on. I turn the picture to the wall and, by means of screw-eyes fixed in the wall, I fasten it with chains, with a combination padlock on each side, fitting for some common Bonivardt or Latude. Impossible to move the canvas or to see anything. It is a fearsome contraption, but safe.