Friday, 27 June 1884

Just as we are about to leave for a drive in the Bois, the architect comes up to the carriage. They arrived this morning, and he comes to tell us that Jules is a little better, that he made the crossing well, but that unfortunately he cannot go out. That Jules would have taken such pleasure in telling me himself the success my painting had with everyone he showed it to in Algiers, etc.
— Then we shall go to see him tomorrow! says Maman.
— You could not give him greater pleasure — he said that your painting... but no, he will tell you himself; it will be better so.
[Words blacked out: The Engelhardts], the priest, the Bogdanovs, the Staritskys — we take tea until eleven o'clock.