Saturday, 9 February 1884

The painting, still.
Moraes, the Comtesse Ducos, and her son to dinner... The son is a true dullard and does something or other at the ministry — says nothing, sits glum as a man condemned to the gallows, and on his mother's order sings us comic songs. Then re-seats himself in the same idiotic attitude.
Our applause encourages him to the point that he rallies three times and sings.
Good heavens. How thoroughly I was bored to death.