Thursday, 22 March 1883

Yesterday I called two craftsmen who built the large-scale armature for the statue from the small clay version I made. And today I drew it and gave it the desired movement... I am deeply moved. The Holy Women in painting, which I shall try to do this summer. And in sculpture my great preoccupation is Ariadne. These two works are conceived with a sublime feeling — I say so even though it is I.
I may not make much of them — but they could be marvellous.
Meanwhile I am working on this woman who is in essence the standing figure, the figure of the other Mary in the painting. Only in sculpture, without clothing, and taking a young girl — it makes an adorable Nausicaa. She has let her head fall into her hands and weeps. There is in the pose an abandon so real, a despair so complete, so young, so sincere, so sad, that I am deeply moved.
Nausicaa, daughter of the king of the Phaeacians, is one of the most charming figures of antiquity. A figure in the background, but an attractive, touching, interesting one.
I am entirely of Ouida's opinion — she would like to strangle old Penelope and marry Ulysses to this ideal young girl leaning against the rose marble column of her father's palace, falling under the spell of that schemer Ulysses listening to his adventures.
Not a word passes between them — this bourgeois goes off to find his country and his affairs again. And Nausicaa remains on the shore watching the great white sail grow distant, and when everything has vanished on the blue and empty horizon she lets her head fall into her hands — fingers on her face and in her hair — heedless of her beauty, shoulders heaving and bosom pressed by her arms, she weeps.
Perspective lesson — the Canroberts having left, Alice and the architect stay for dinner.
This architect has such a singular look today that I thought he was drunk. Not that he was at all improper — but an attitude I cannot quite describe. Yet he has drunk nothing here. It was like a man in despair who is trying to react. And I was very ill at ease — I tell you I thought him drunk, although he was perfectly proper and calm. I may be wrong, and one is so ridiculous if one is... But I do believe that this fellow is extraordinarily devoted to me. These are things one senses — it pierces through in indifferent words... He believes in my talent; he penetrates or believes he penetrates the movements of my expression, my impressions.
It is like — I imagine — Dusautoy also has a slight weakness for me... I truly have good fortune.