Saturday, 23 April 1881

I brought the portrait to Tony; he finds first that it is very well composed, then after various pieces of advice he [words blacked out: says it is astonishingly] good for someone who has not studied longer than I.
"Yes — astonishingly good; and if you continue to work as..."
But I interrupt him, exclaiming that I am going to work still harder, as hard as I can and beyond.
I am enchanted — astonishingly good, at long last! So I am not making merely creditable progress. Ah — I can breathe!
I had already placed myself among the merely honourable students... Ah, good heavens, what luck.
The portrait is pretty: she is wearing a white batiste gown, open in a round neck and gathered, with short full sleeves and cuffs; a pink ribbon at the waist under the bosom; a pale straw-yellow shawl around her covering the arms; the left hand holds a rose with a careless elegance... The head is full-face, perfectly upright, half in very light shadow and half in light. Neutral ground — warm, transparent grey-green. Do not imagine I believe I have talent — not yet — but the arrangement is pretty, the woman is pretty, and it is astonishingly good for someone who has not been working long.
We return from church — it is five o'clock, but having brought Alexis back with us, we laughed heartily for an hour, so that we did not really get home until half past three. The Carnet d'un mondain will tell you of these splendours. Mme de Peyronney was there with the Troubetzkoys; my father embraced the ambassador and introduced me to him. Many acquaintances — Turquan, du Sautoy, Aladro, Tchoumakoff, etc. We supped at the head table as every year, and as every year my dress was not a success — somewhat better, however. A gown in silk muslin scattered with small embroideries, Louis XV in style. It is very pretty but it is not me. I am truly idiotic to forget that one must never try to force one's looks — in any case my face was good. Dina is so devout! It is admirable. As for me, I think of Cassagnac during the Mass.

Notes

Batiste: a very fine, lightweight woven fabric — cotton, linen, or silk — used for elegant summer wear and undergarments. Named after the 13th-century French weaver Jean Baptiste.
Le Carnet d'un mondain: the society column published under the pen name "Etincelle" (Spark) in Le Figaro, written by Mme de Peyronney (Vicomtesse de Létorières) and fed material by Saint-Amand. Marie is anticipating that her Easter supper appearance will be written up.