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Wednesday, 15 March 1882
What is horrible is that this fright that gripped the whole household shook me to the point that I had to go for a walk instead of painting. For you do not know: since Monday a week ago I have been working on a picture — an adorable six-year-old child I caught carrying provisions, whom I am painting just as she is, who poses well, and it was going perfectly; each day a piece was painted; nothing has ever gone so well; I would not even speak of it out of superstition. And there I was, with a concentration that artists will understand, beginning the head, having taken care the day before to be well rested — and snap.Ce qu'il y a d'horrible c'est que cette frayeur que tout le monde a eu a la maison m'a troublee au point que j'ai du aller me promener au lieu de peindre...
I had to go into town to recover. Scoundrel of a man — he went to old Prince Karageorgevitch to beg twenty francs and tell him that we wanted to bury him alive and that we are ruining him. What a sinister infamy. But it is my picture that has suffered for it...
J'au du aller en ville pour me remettre. Canaille d'homme, il est alle chez le vieux prince Karageorgevitch lui demander vingt francs et raconter que nous aurions voulu l'enterrer vivant et qu'on le ruine. Quelle sinistre infamie. Mais c'est ma tete qui en a souffert...