Saturday, 1 July 1882

Well, things are better; and first of all, all my canvases and all my drawings are there assembled — I review them and come back to life. Since morning I have been working with Irma; Émile Bastien came and we spent more than two hours talking about art. He is such a good fellow — not given to complimenting, intelligent — and as he is Bastien's brother one imagines one is hearing the counsels and opinions of the other. I laugh with him about it — the bore of the famous brother; we joke about it. Mme Cartwright reports that "Émile Bastien-Lepage finds you the realisation of all the poet's dreams." A man of taste, then — just? Like the American Simmons who saw me with Mlle Lönnstadt at Madevick's, and told little Lönnstadt that he would follow me everywhere if he were rich. There is a woman.
See these conquests. Besides, I please only intelligent people. O vanity... No — it is true; artists, whether women or men, always think above their station.
Bailleul to dinner, and Bojidar with his eternal stale and distorted gossip. He knows nothing, mishears everything, and invents. He has shown little composure lately, now that he fancies himself an artist, and his conversation is ridiculous. Poor Émile is an architect but does not look it, and he spoke well of several canvases and encouraged me.
False compliments are recognisable — and they hurt.
And yesterday — yesterday we worked on his portrait, and as it was raining on the terrace I asked to borrow an overcoat of the real Bastien's, and his hat — so it was complete: studio, palette, brushes, canvas, brother, and clothes. Everything Bastien's. A year ago I was devising romantic means of gaining entry into this temple — disguising myself as an American and offering five hundred francs to charity for the chance to watch him work. To know, to greet, to approach a man of talent... I know that in Paris nearly everyone has this happiness, but for my part I make something of it... It is so new for me and I am so proud! This evening at dinner I found myself saying: Bastien-Lepage came to my house... and I paused involuntarily to savour that cluster of syllables, which had so agreeable a meaning. It is only the brother, but the other has come too and will come again, and from the brother I am making a friend, a good companion. Or to say: Carolus-Duran was telling me the other day that... Or: we dined in a small intimate party — Bastien, Gervex, Carolus... Or: [Blackened words: Brazza told me] yesterday...

Notes

Henri Gervex (1852-1929), fashionable Parisian painter, known for his society portraits and genre scenes.