Friday, 1 December 1882

I work with two or three women around me who are fond of me — but who talk among themselves and laugh when I cannot hear what they are saying to me. I am doing this portrait in our old studio — while belonging to the new one. On the ground floor: the one that was for the men before Julian had the large studio built in the Faubourg Saint-Denis. And this new studio contains the senior students and is much more respectable than the old one.
It may be the lack of breeding in these women that causes me to feel my infirmity so keenly...
No — it seems like a dream. Does it not? To become deaf?
I? Why? How?
I should like to know whether everyone knows. It only shows clearly when someone is posing or in great silence at home; on visits or in society I still manage to get by. But the women of the studio, Amélie, the others — have they not hastened to say: “You know, she is half deaf, the poor thing.” And Julian, in conversation with la Mouzay and the others... So everyone knows?... But it is impossible — it must be someone else, or else I am about to wake up.