Saturday, 3 March 1883

Tony came to see the painting. He is very pleased with it.
One of the heads is very good. "You have never done anything so good — it is supple and of a lovely tone. Now that's more like it, it is truly good. Bravo, Mademoiselle" — and so on for a long time. In short, it is very good. I cannot believe it. The clothes still remain to be done, and I also want to redo the little one's head, which is not bad but not as good as the other. He really seemed to find it truly good. And yet I am not pleased — it has not made me cheerful. On another day I should have leapt about all day long. So why am I not delighted? For he has never said so much to me — not that I suspect him of flattery. Oh, no. I could have done even better, it seems to me at least, and I am going to try to achieve it in the second figure... He is pleased, that is evident — I should like to know what he says of it to others...
Is it only relatively very good — very good for me — or is it truly good?
I see beyond, further, better — I should like to do it again... I can do better... Then?
Yes — is it relatively so good as that? Or is it truly not bad??