Sunday, 13 January 1884

I worked a little, though it is our New Year,¹ and then the Karageorgevitches and the Orthodox priest² for dinner; there were callers during the day.

Bojidar and I are outraged by the horrible, flat satirical verses about Bastien — it was Irma who taught them to me, and she attributes them to Gervex, but I say that Gervex has too much talent to commit verses like those... especially the couplet about the old rat... Fie! It reeks of the tavern,³ it reeks of wine, it reeks, in short, of the failed art-school dauber⁴ — it is contemptible.