. The last confessions of Marie Bashkirtseff and her correspondence with Guy de Maupassant;. ltered in abstractions. Monday, 2nd June. Emile Bastien-Lepage dines here. His brother only adds a few lines to his101 THE LAST CONFESSIONS OF motliers letter. He uo longer writes toliis dearest friends, does not work, andendures horrible suffering, physical andmental. He writes: Thank the Bash-kirtseffs for me and give them my kindregards. I have read the newspaperarticles on Mdlle. Bashkirtseff, and hersuccess does not surprise me. The kind architect says I have had themedal, because all the artists
. The last confessions of Marie Bashkirtseff and her correspondence with Guy de Maupassant;. ltered in abstractions. Monday, 2nd June. Emile Bastien-Lepage dines here. His brother only adds a few lines to his101 THE LAST CONFESSIONS OF motliers letter. He uo longer writes toliis dearest friends, does not work, andendures horrible suffering, physical andmental. He writes: Thank the Bash-kirtseffs for me and give them my kindregards. I have read the newspaperarticles on Mdlle. Bashkirtseff, and hersuccess does not surprise me. The kind architect says I have had themedal, because all the artists noticed mypicture and I am known, and have hada great and true success. I have a subject for a picture. It came to me at three oclock, and this evening at dinner I saw what I should do so distinctly that it made me jump up as if there were a spring in the chair. I was just wanting a modern subject witli plenty of figures, something nude, and a not too large canvas. The very thing; I am going to do it. AVliat ? Ah, well, some outlandish wrestlers, witli people round them. There will be102. MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF bare bodies to show that I can do tbe the people around—that will be verydifficult; but if it lays hold of me, that isall that is necessary—intoxication ! Saturday, 2\st June. I am thinner by half. For two mouthsit has been possible to follow day by daythe progress of this attenuation. It is nolonger Venus Callipyge—it is may change into a carcase. In ap-pearance I am well and live as usual. ButI have fever every day. Sometimes in theday, sometimes in the night. Nightmare,hallucinations. Disciples of Maupassant, do not attributethis condition to the sleeplessness of a full-grown girl! No, my poor friends, it isnot that. Dreams of love, I make themevery evening to send me to sleep—at least, when I do not think of some THE LAST COaSTESSIONS OF No, it is real fever, fatiguing and stupefy-ing. So I am resolved to go and see Dr. Po-tain. Y
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