Friday, 10 February 1882

It was so brutal a blow that I have just spent three truly miserable days. I am no longer working on my grand picture, but on more reasonable things, simpler things, and studies. A solemn resolution never to waste a minute and never to make a stroke in the air. Concentrate.
Bastien recommends it to me, and so does Julian, and so does the happy Breslau. Yes, truly happy — and I would give, without hesitation, everything that goes by the name of my joys and my wealth to be as happy as she. Ten thousand francs a year to be independent, and talent alongside — with that one has everything.
All the same, that girl is terribly happy. I feel so miserable every time I think of that article by Wolff. Yet it is not what one calls envy. I have not the heart to analyse it or to search for literary expressions...