Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 10 August 1882

Poor Tony has rubbed out the left hand at the end of the sitting — however academic one may be, however much one may have won the Medal of Honour and produce tedious painting, one is not on that account immune... And to begin with, he wants to do something very fine; he told me he had almost had nightmares and a migraine afterward, because it won't come at the first attempt. Well, I, being often in that state myself, sympathize with these torments that I know well... And which one cannot begin to imagine when one is not of the craft.
He writes his journal every evening as I do — what do you think he can say of me in it? He believes that Breslau's laurels are keeping me awake... But he knows to what extent I acknowledge my humility... It is true; only very recently have I begun saying my picture, and even now it seems to me an act of presumption.
It was only on hearing other nonentities say my sketch, my picture, etc. that I dared... And if I consider it a kind of absurdity, that is because I am counting on having the right to say it aloud, and I do not want to diminish it by an overuse too familiar and disproportionate... You understand that, don't you. Tony will charge for the portrait, obviously, but it would only upset me if I could think that a few banknotes could make him look upon me more favourably... Nothing to fear, however, and besides, it was when he did not know me and had never come to the house that he encouraged me most. He dines with us, we chat, and when it comes to correcting my work afterward he is as harsh as if he were seeing me for only the second time — and that is as it should be.