Saturday, 12 August 1882

I have a migraine... And during the sitting old Robert-Fleury, the father, came by as if by chance — though I rather think it was to give advice on the portrait; I am not sorry, for the old man is far abler than his old bachelor of a son. My head aches so badly that I lie down for twenty minutes, which cures me completely, and as the Gavinis came in the evening with Géry to take us to the café chantant, we go. Agathe drops out on the way. For a moment I thought I was going to be ill — not a bit of it.