Saturday, 19 February 1881

Tony says it is going very well. After giving me a good lesson he goes to correct Amélie, to whom he says almost nothing — very embarrassed, [words blackened: who must] change some figures that will not come right, I believe — she turns quite red, and instead of chatting with him as usual stays in her place and works feverishly, while that angel Tony comes back to my picture, examines it, gives advice, encourages me, and repeats several times that it is going well. I am so delighted that I forget Julian's coldness, which nevertheless vexes me...
No matter — I am unjust. I cited as a nastiness in Amélie her joy when I am down and her rage when I recover. Well, I feel the same thing. I wish her no ill — but her picture would harm mine; two on the same subject! And I should be glad if she did not exhibit.
I must confess a childishness. On the pretext of going to see a house with a studio on the Boulevard Malesherbes [words blackened: we go there; I invented this], quite calmly with details — so-and-so told me about it — and I describe the house that does not exist and that we cannot find. Only I caught a glimpse of number 161, which belongs to Cassagnac. It has an old look, with... something like green shutters — it has a provincial air and is not large. I was foolish enough not to dare look at it when we passed again; it seemed to me my aunt would guess the ridiculous lie, and I was ashamed of my curiosity. But it moved me — I shall go back if I ever manage to slip away alone.
With de Daillens we are very cold but not openly quarrelling.
I am enthusiastic about Saint-Marceaux! I feel wings growing, I believe myself a great artist in the future. Five years ago I would certainly have written ten wild pages about number 161, Boulevard Malesherbes — I worked myself up as I wrote. Now everything is calm... and then there is Art, and the ears...
For the past ten days or so I always dream of Grand-papa, of Maman, of my family...
And then almost always I dream either of people I am to see the next day, or the dream continues the day just ended — I never sleep without dreams.
Painting, Saint-Marceaux! Oh! I want to model as soon as the picture is done. Oh! I feel a power!
What incoherence!