Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 15 May 1873

At half past eight we all went, except my aunt, who has a very high fever, to the funeral. First there was a service at the house, then everyone went to the church; the coffin was brought into the church; mass was said, then a
funeral service. There were many people — foreigners, the Michels; the two Grand Dukes were there.
It is needless to say what the grief of the old man and Mme Patton was; at the end she fainted. Everyone surrounded her, and the poor old man was alone — he fell onto a chair; he was no longer weeping but crying out. Instantly we rushed to him; he was attended to; they gave him water, etc., etc. In short, the scenes of grief I witnessed are so dreadful that I wept, and I tremble still. Tears, sobs, cries — all the horrors of misfortune and despair. At half past one we returned. Then at half past four, after two hours of piano, I went out (black dress — good) with Maman; I bought the grey fabric for the travel dress. It is like getting a riding habit — I ordered the habit and then I rode; for the travel dress is always a step forward. Today, the first cherries.
There is no one left in the full sense of the word. Only the ugly, dirty, stupid Nice locals remain. Oh! my God, make me leave. I beg You. Grant me this grace. I shall have a hat sent for the grey dress.
[In the margin: Around six o'clock the old man came to inquire about my aunt's health. He is so afraid for everyone, poor thing!]