Sunday, 1 April 1883

I go to the Louvre this morning with Brisbane — Alice. Not that she is very interesting, as Breslau would have been, for instance; there is no exchange of ideas; but she is good-natured, reasonably clever, she listens to me and I think aloud. It is a kind of exercise. I speak of what preoccupies me and of what I desire. Of Bastien naturally, who has taken up an enormous place in my conversations with Julian and Alice… I love his painting extraordinarily, and you will think me quite blind if I tell you that these old smoky canvases of the Louvre make me think with pleasure of the living paintings surrounded by air, with speaking eyes, with mouths about to open. In short, that is this morning's impression — I do not offer it as definitive.
I cough, and without seeing myself grow thin it seems to me that I am ill. Only I do not want to think about it. But why then do I have such a flourishing appearance? Not merely in colour but in — dimensions?
I search for the cause of my sadness and find nothing, except that I have done very little for the past fortnight. The statue that falls, breaks down, cracks — all that has made me lose an infinite amount of time.
Tomorrow at one o'clock I begin work again — without it I cannot find myself.
What vexes me a little is that this pastel should be so good while the paintings are merely good. Well, I feel capable of painting as well as that now — and you shall see!
I am not sad; I simply have a fever and difficulty breathing. It is the right lung that… progresses.
And fool that you are, you see yourself so to speak burning and you do nothing! Vesicants? Yellow stains for a year or two?! But what are two years weighed against life, health, work?
Ah, there it is. I have barely any great need of that shoulder and one can manage so well… Well, then? Well, then one always believes it will pass just like that…
We sent the portraits to the architect. My photograph is pretty but I look like a madwoman. Ophelia?
We are going this evening to Madame Kanchine's — there is dancing.
I am a success — but it does not amuse me.

Notes

Vesicants: caustic plasters applied to the skin as a counter-irritant treatment for lung ailments, leaving discoloured marks for months.
She refers to the shoulder as the site where vesicant plasters would be applied.
"The architect" refers to Émile Bastien-Lepage, brother of Jules Bastien-Lepage the painter. Émile was an architect who gave perspective lessons and acted as a liaison between Marie and his famous brother.