Saturday, 14 June 1884

Many visitors on Maman’s at-home day. I am elegance itself! A gown in the purest Louis XVI style, in grey taffeta with a waistcoat of white silk muslin.
There is Missak — who, it seems, does not find me utterly repellent.
The dowry! And besides, I am charming. He comes almost every Saturday, and then...
But the thing is, today I am cheerful for no reason.
I imagine that Jules Bastien-Lepage loves me, that Maupassant is thinking of me, that...
I went to Sèvres but came back quickly — I had taken a model with me, but a model is not a real country girl, and I shall go back to our scullery maid.
This Armandine who will not do — you can tell so clearly that she has danced at the Eden-Théâtre. So I, who claim to paint the inner life of people, would have made a little hussy dressed up as a peasant.
What I need is a big slow lump of a girl who daydreams, overwhelmed by the heat, and who will yield to the first... peasant who comes along.
So this Armandine is ideally stupid — I set her talking. When stupidity does not irritate it amuses; one listens with benevolent curiosity. And then I glimpse a whole world of customs, and I fill in these glimpses with my intuition, which I shall call remarkable, if you will allow me.
In the evening I astonish Esteoule and the little Staritskys by performing Cumberland.
Here is L’Evénement with an article on Maupassant. Since it has been so long since he wrote to me, I am beginning to take notice of him.