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THIRTY-TWO

M. Monet’s house was different from the last time we were here. It is much bigger, because he built more rooms. The best one is a big room with a very high ceiling and big windows, and many of his paintings are hanging on the walls. They are very pretty and very colorful.

He and Maman talked about one of the paintings for a long time.

I was hoping Oncle would come soon so I would have someone to talk to.

I looked out the window to see if his carriage had arrived, but we were at the back of the house and I could not see anything. I think Isabeau was right to stay home.

Then I looked closer and saw that even though they were all of the same fancy church, each one was a little different.

Some from close up and others from far away.

Some from different sides. Others of the church in the morning or in the afternoon or at night.

And there were so many different colors.

Maman told him he was a master at capturing the ephemeral.

I do not know what “ephemeral” means, but M.

Monet was very pleased when Maman said it.

Finally, finally, Oncle arrived. I ran to him and gave him a big hug.

He gave me a big hug too. He greeted M. Monet and kissed Maman on both cheeks but came right back to me.

He rested his hand on my shoulder, and I pressed into his side.

Then he asked me what I thought of the cathedrals.

One of the things I like the most about Oncle is that he does not treat me like a little girl who does not understand anything.

And that makes me think I can understand things.

I walked back and forth along the rows of paintings and looked harder to understand better.

I told him what I liked was that it was like a person who has different moods.

That the church was one thing but also lots of other things.

That it depends on how you are looking at it and whether it is sunny or cloudy. Just like people.

His whole face became very sunny. He picked me up and danced me around the studio, but my feet didn’t touch the floor. It was much more fun than listening to Maman and M. Monet talking.

I have to go to dinner now, dear diary. I will tell you more tomorrow.

26 May

The best part of yesterday was when I walked in M.

Monet’s garden with Maman and Oncle. M. Monet was so excited by the suggestions Maman gave him that he said he had to paint right away.

So it was just the three of us. The garden is very beautiful and looks like some of M.

Monet’s paintings. There are so many colors here too.

In the garden there is a pond that has a pretty curved bridge over it.

There are also weeping willow trees that are so big their branches go right into the water.

Maman and Oncle stared at them for a long time.

I dashed over the bridge to make them stop staring and play with me.

Oncle linked his arm through Maman’s, and they ran to where I was standing on the other side.

They each took one of my hands and the three of us skipped on the curvy path with all kinds of flowers. So many flowers.

They kneeled down and hugged me. Both at the same time. And then they hugged each other with me in the middle. It was like I was inside a sandwich of them.

7 June

Oncle brought me a present today. A new box of colored crayons!

Now I do not have to use Isabeau’s old broken ones.

He brought Isabeau a little pink purse that is very pretty.

He also gave me a sketchbook like the ones he and Maman use.

Then he said we should go across the street to the park so I could try them.

Maman came too. They both carried their sketchbooks and pastels.

I was very glad to be the three of us again.

There were many fluffy clouds floating in the sky. Maman told me that clouds are not just white but have other colors in them too. She opened her book and drew one to show me how it had purple and blue and even some yellow. It looked very real.

I tried but did a bad job. Oncle told me to try again, that making mistakes is the best way to learn.

This is very different from what my teachers at school say, but I did it anyway.

The next time was better but still bad. Maman made another cloud to show me another way to paint it, like M.

Monet’s cathedrals. This one did not have any yellow in it, but it looked very real too.

I looked very hard at a cloud over the trees. It had some green in it, so I colored it that way. It also had purple around what looked like four cat’s feet at the bottom, so I colored that too.

“Will you look at that, Berthe,” Oncle said. “Our girl may have some real talent.”

Maman looked at my cloud and then at Oncle édouard. “How could she not?”

10 September

Maman and I have been going to Oncle édouard’s studio to paint. Oncle gave me my own easel that he built himself. It is smaller than his, so I can stand in front of it and my hand is in the right place. It makes me feel like a real artist.

I am still not very good, but I am getting a little better because Maman is always teaching me things.

Like how you do not need to copy something exactly.

That catching the light is more important.

Catching the moment. I understand about how the clouds have other colors in them.

But I am not sure I understand about the light or the moment.

Now that everyone has returned to Paris from summer holiday, the other Impressionists are at Oncle’s studio too.

We all paint together, and they say I am my mother’s daughter and my uncle’s niece.

M. Degas always smiles at me funny when they say this.

Oncle is always telling me how good my paintings are.

He has even taken some of them home with him because he likes them so much.

15 October

It is Oncle Gustave’s birthday tomorrow.

He is Father and Oncle édouard’s youngest brother and is visiting Paris.

We were included in a dinner party at Grand-Mère Antoinette’s house to celebrate.

Maman did not want to go, because it would make us all sad that Father wasn’t there, but Oncle édouard said we must come so all the Manets could be together.

I was surprised when she agreed. Now that Grand-Mère is ailing and does not often leave her rooms, Tante Suzanne is the hostess of all Manet family events, and I think Maman does not like Tante Suzanne. I do not either.

16 October

It rained all day today and was still raining when we arrived at Grand-Mère’s.

Isabeau ran out of the carriage and up the stairs without waiting for the driver and his umbrella.

Maman and I took our time. Oncle édouard greeted us at the door and led us into the parlor to visit with Oncle Gustave.

I do not know him well because he lives far away, but he seems nice and looks a lot like Father.

A few Manet cousins were also present, and there were ten people around the table. Tante put place cards at every setting to show us where to sit. Oncle édouard was at the head and she was at the foot, with Oncle Gustave at her right. Maman and I were in the middle, with the cousins.

At the last minute, Oncle édouard changed the cards and put Maman and me on either side of him.

Tante’s face turned bright red, but Oncle did not seem to notice.

I am now almost twelve years old, and I am beginning to think there are secrets here that everyone knows but me.

But maybe he just wanted to be nice so we wouldn’t be so sad without Father.

During the meal, hardly anyone talked, and most of the sounds were of people eating, which is not a nice sound, especially during the soup.

I could not wait for it to be over and ate very fast. But then the maid brought in the birthday cake, and we all had to sit there while it was served with coffee and tea.

Oncle Gustave complimented Oncle édouard on his many paintings hanging on the walls, also praising those by M.

Monet and M. Degas, which Oncle explained were gifts.

Oncle édouard said he had been working very hard and was pleased their bande’s style was finally starting to be appreciated.

Then he smiled at Maman. “Berthe has been producing many unique and marvelous paintings, and there are many who believe she is the best of all of us.”

I was very happy to hear him say this, but Maman just looked down at her hands. I wondered why none of her paintings were there.

Then Oncle édouard told his brother there was someone else in the family who had been producing marvelous works of art. “Wait until you see,” he said. Then he jumped up and left the room.

Everyone at the table looked at each other, but, as before, no one said anything.

When Oncle came back into the dining room, he was holding some of my drawings.

Maman pressed her hand to my leg under the table and whispered that she was sorry.

I did not understand what she was sorry about because I was happy Oncle wanted to show everyone my pictures.

“The next generation of Manet talent!” Oncle cried, passing the half dozen pieces of paper around the table. He bowed to Maman. “And the next generation of Morisot talent.” He had had a number of drinks and beamed at everyone. “A noble combination!”

Tante Suzanne stood and glared at Oncle. Her face was even redder and splotchier than it was before. Then she turned from Oncle to Maman. “You,” she hissed. “You are not welcome here!” Her finger shook when she pointed at me. “And you are not either.”

Maman stood up, and then Isabeau and I did too. Isabeau and I were crying, and Oncle begged us all not to leave, but we did anyway.