Wednesday, 4 June 1884

Well, we have the invitation. It is a grand official reception — but it is something, at any rate. It was Gavini who drafted the letter that Maman wrote to the Ambassador. I knew nothing of it.
All the same, they are thoroughly scoundrels for not having given my painting a medal.
The two Orthodox priests came today. The one who always comes is an archpriest like the other, and is named Wassilieff — he is the priest of the unfashionable colony. The other, named Prilejuyeff, is the fashionable priest; it is he, through Mme Zarondsky's influence, who has arranged for Mme Frederiks to present us to the ambassadress.
Baronne Frederiks is the wife of our military attaché.
It seems like a dream — and since it is not yet accomplished... We shall see on Saturday.
But what is more certain is that there is a painting. It came to me at three o'clock, and this evening at dinner I saw so distinctly what I shall do that it made me leap from my chair as if there were a spring in it. I had been wanting precisely a modern subject with many figures and some nudity, on a canvas not too enormous. That is it — I am going to do it. What? Why, my wrestlers. Fairground wrestlers, with a crowd all around. There will be bare torsos to show that I can do the nude. And people around them — it will be very difficult, but if it grips me, that is all that is needed. Rapture!