Sunday, 24 April 1881

The Princess and her husband; then Engelhardt, la Cerny. While the Princess takes me for a drive in the Bois, the whole Gavini circle arrives — Odette, Valentine, la Linsingen. The table is laid according to custom and food is offered the whole time.
Then an improvised dinner — the four Karageorgevitchs, du Sautoy, la Bailleul. Everyone is very merry, but I am as if something has been done to me; and the good-natured cheerfulness of these young men strikes me as a lack of proper dignity.
A dream that forebodes humiliations. For that matter, every morning I begin by wondering from which quarter the annoyance that is certain to come might arrive — it is, I am now convinced, a definite illness brought on by two or three major injuries heaven has sent me. One ought to be able to cure this — a great psychological physician, for it is not natural; these incessant apprehensions are caused by nervous disorders... Ah, what all of this is!... Well.
People speak ill of me because I am an artist. I imagine what is being said... inventions, no doubt, of a kind that would knock me over with surprise. God knows what people may say... but then I am indiscreet in the presence of imbeciles.
The other day, in front of that goose Mme Tchoumakoff, I went to whisper something to Alexis, and when Tchoumakoff insisted on knowing, I told her — as if it were something enormous — that it could only be said to gentlemen, and laughing, with that air that means one is deliberately saying something outrageous.
And this turkey-hen leans over and asks whether she has guessed: "You said cocu to him, didn't you?"
I was left dumbfounded.
I work at No. 37 — a twelve-year-old girl, bare-shouldered, dabbling at a canvas in the artist's absence. This is not for pretension of making a finished work, but one discovers movements; and besides, I like there to be an idea even in a study.

Notes

Cocu: French for cuckold — a husband whose wife is unfaithful. The word was shocking in polite company, especially coming from a young woman. Marie finds the older woman's guess revealing about her own mind.
No. 37: Marie's private studio at 37 rue something (the exact address is not specified), where she worked independently outside of the Atelier Julian.