Thursday, 22 May 1884

I had promised long ago to call on Carolus, and this morning I remember the promise. He receives on Thursday mornings, so we go. This charming man is wearing a garnet velvet doublet and has been sketching out some Spanish step or other while a friend played the guitar. I played the organ, and he sang, then the friend.
It is charming — and Carolus is on the Jury, but I breathe not a word of it.
I am beginning to be a little nervous. A year ago, to this very day, I was in agony over the mention. Ah! that was nothing.
Let us suppose I shall get nothing... It looks that way.