Thursday, 13 December 1883

All day, Bojidar poses. Seated before a pink Japanese screen, sucking his cane and laughing barely, three-quarters face. In evening dress and white cravat. By gaslight — I place him in a dark corner lit by gas, while I have daylight on me; it is very convenient but very difficult. [In the margin: I am also making a drawing like the other evening — anyone at all: a model, an amateur, the devil.] All these heads are life-size, the shoulders visible; in Bojidar's case there is a gloved hand holding the cane. It is rather amusing, and besides I enjoy painting a head a day... it broadens one's handling... But I frequently have a fever — it is the chest that is the cause... I feel clearly that it is advancing little by little... These illnesses cannot be cured... Here is the regimen to follow: vegetative life, no mental occupation; eat and sleep a great deal. And other such rubbish. Impossible things! I do everything I can and it is not enough... If only it lasts at least ten years... Ten years is so little. Well then — here I am consumptive... Ah! If only it could be merely imagination! I am not stupid enough to make a show of it... I am convinced I am ill... and I am wholly devastated by it.