Don't fear anything for your letters, they are burnt one by one and I hope you do the same with mine.

I don't want to say anything because I know I am unable to protect you from the harm that I see.

I have been back in Paris for two weeks. Nothing new. Life is still bitter.

Send me one hundred francs on our future deals, otherwise I will disappear in a cataclysm.

I am scared; I don't know what is going to happen to me. What was the point of working so hard and of being talented, to be rewarded like this? Never a penny, tormented all my life. It is horrible; one cannot imagine it.

I have all sorts of problems and feel discouraged.

Last night, two men tried to force my shutters. I recognized them: they are two of Rodin's Italian models. He told them to kill me. I am in his way; he wants to get rid of me.