Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 28 June 1884

We go then to the rue Legendre.
In 1872 at Nice, we had a monkey called Philibert who died of some slow illness I cannot name. We used to lay him on the villa terrace in the sun, on a sable fur coat, and he would lie there with the exhausted air of a man — eyes grown large, movements nervous. There you have it.
If it is not exactly that, it strongly resembles it. He gets up to receive us and takes a few steps around the room — he seemed to me almost ashamed to show himself so changed.
[Written across: His mother was out.] Very changed — oh! very changed. But it is not the stomach he is ill in — I am not a doctor, but he does not have the look of it. He looks... The studio gossip must be right.
In short, I find him so changed that I say only: Well, here you are back again.
He is not repellent. And so kind at once — so friendly, so generous about my painting, always repeating that I must not worry about medals, that success is enough, that people see, that people know, and so forth.
I make him laugh about his illness by telling him it was necessary and has done him good, since he was beginning to grow a paunch. The architect seemed delighted to see his patient so gay and kind. Encouraged, I become talkative. He pays me compliments on my gown and even on the handle of my parasol — a dog's head from Dupuy's, which a vulgar eye would not have noticed. The gown is in grey batiste (all my gowns are grey now), with a bodice knotted so prettily that he remarks on it.
He detains us twice, says delightful things about my talent, and jokes with me about all manner of things.
He had me sit at his feet on the chaise longue... The poor thin legs... The eyes large and very clear, the hair tousled. But he is very interesting, and since he asks me to I shall go and see him again.
The architect, who accompanies us downstairs, asks me the same thing — it gives Jules such pleasure, he is so happy to see me, "he says you have great talent, I assure you."
I dwell on the welcome I received because I am very pleased by it. I should have liked to see this old painter every day and to return to Paris to satisfy his invalid's whims.
Will Mme Mackay come to see him?
For my part it is a very calm, very tender maternal feeling, of which I am as proud as of a strength. He will pull through — it is certain.
You understand — I should like him to need me, this... poor child. It is such fun to play the game with the air of a good angel...
In short, none of this is quite the thing... and yet there is something there.
Ah! He had us drink Saint-Galmier water with lemon. That is touching.
The little Staritskys left this evening — we put them on the train. These recent weeks they were always at our house. Two charming creatures, besides — good, frank, well-brought-up, in short very rare. We were teaching the parrot the name of Bastien-Lepage together. They admired me greatly, especially the elder one, who is ill.