Saturday, 24 February 1883

I do not attend the reception — the days are lengthening and I can paint until half past five.
After the Maréchale Canrobert came to my studio the other Saturday, Maman left her cards for her, and she has come to return the visit today. I am delighted.
The Engelhardts and Agathe for dinner.
You know that I am continually preoccupied with Bastien-Lepage — I have grown accustomed to pronouncing that name — and I avoid pronouncing it in company as though I were guilty. And when I speak of him it is with a tender familiarity that seems natural to me given his talent, but which others might misinterpret. What a pity, my God, that his brother... that is to say, that he is not among... that is to say, that he cannot come as his brother comes. Oh, if only he would — that is to say, and
Ophélia? My God, he is quite right to have a woman by the year — when one is absorbed in one's art, the rest must not take up too much space. Why did I imagine that he looked at me with eyes that... The other evening at the Watercolorists'? An effect of light or color that caught a painter's eye — that is all, most probably... I myself often fix my gaze on people, on things, studying the tones or the lighting... Good God, how vain one is — I immediately began to suspect him of admiration. But why not? Because I was wearing a plain mouse-grey velvet dress, with a very distinguished, very chic, very becoming hat?
His brother admires me — I do not commit the foolishness of thinking he loves me — [blacked-out words: one is almost always ridiculous when one thinks one can divine such things] — so why would he not admire me? There is a fine argument.
And what would I do with him? A friend, simply. How is it you do not understand friendship? Ah — I would adore my celebrated friends, not only out of vanity but by taste, because of their qualities, their spirit, their talent, their genius; they are a breed apart — beyond a certain commonplace mediocrity, one finds oneself in a purer atmosphere, a circle of the elect where one can join hands and dance a round in honor of... What am I saying? It is simply that Bastien truly has a charming face. His brother, who is very ugly, does him a disservice — when separated, people confuse them.
I am very much afraid that my painting resembles his... Minus the qualities... I copy nature very sincerely, I know — but I think of his painting.
Besides, a gifted artist who is sincerely in love with nature and wishes to copy her will always resemble Bastien...
If it goes well I shall have finished in four or five days. Yes, but...
I would like to have time to paint little Peyronney — !!
In twelve days I shall be able to.