Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 23 December 1882

So this evening we have for dinner the great, the true, the sole, the incomparable Bastien, and his brother.
No one else had been invited — which was a little awkward; it was his first dinner here and it seemed perhaps rather too intimate, and then the fear that it might become dull, you understand.
The brother is received here almost as familiarly as... Bojidar. But the great, the true, the sole, etc. In short, this little fellow, who even if he were made of gold would still not be worth his talent... This little fellow is kind and I think flattered to be regarded in this way; no one has yet credited him with "genius" — I don't say it to him either, but I treat him as such, and through artful childish games feed him enormous flatteries. Bojidar comes for a moment in the evening — in an agreeable mood, he agrees with everything I say; he is of the household, very happy to meet Bastien and other celebrities. But so that Bastien does not imagine I push my admiration to excess, I balance it with Saint-Marceaux, of whom I speak — in short: you two. In any case he stayed until midnight; I painted a bottle which he found good, adding: "That is how one must work — patience, concentrate yourself, give everything you have, try to render nature scrupulously."