Tuesday, 15 May 1883

True spring — almost warm. In the evening we go down into the garden by moonlight!… But there is only the Engelhardts, Tchernitsky, and Alice…
After her stupidity the other day, when she told me she could not come to dinner, I told her she had better not come so often any more and that I would not invite her again. We met at the exhibitions and she told me she could not come until I invited her.
Very well, I invite you. So she came this evening. I wanted to tell her… But it is hot, I am tired, and it is not worth the trouble… It will be said some day… if the occasion arises. For to make a fuss… After all it is my fault; I was wrong to be far too frank with her; one must never give anyone a hold on one… But that is not the point. What is, then.
That the weather is fine, that the moon is beautiful, that the sky is beautiful, that the stars make one think of a picture by Cazin, and that… There is nothing but art.. And that I am at peace now that I no longer have to go away, that I can finish the urchins, and then the fisherman, and then the boy reading on a bench, and then do some thirty sunsets…