Wednesday, 23 July 1884

I am furious. The Canroberts will not leave me in peace until I have done a painting for Claire. It is disgusting — but I committed this weakness last year.
Oh! They will not ask me directly — but they will send Claire, who will prevent me from working. It is with fury in my heart that I resolve to give them seven days of it now!
If I do not do it for them, I shall have no peace this winter. Claire will always be there. And how is one to get rid of her. But once their painting is done, I shall easily be free of them. It is nonetheless ignoble and disgusting.
And it is my own fault! There is nothing left but to quarrel with them or comply.
It is maddening, maddening, maddening.
And my painting is already sketched out, the models found. I have been out since five in the morning, running to la Villette and les Batignolles, with Rosalie approaching the people I point out to her. It is not easy or convenient, let me tell you.