Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 27 July 1873

I reread yesterday's entry upon waking. Nothing surprises me; it seems ordinary. Only one thing: what gave the Princess these ideas? Strange!
Maman and my aunt went to Mme Anitchkoff's, where M. Patton was, to discuss a denunciation by the Tolstoys. I went there in a dressing gown, without a hat, to ask if I should keep the carriage. From Mme Anitchkoff's to the Macarani baths without changing. In a few minutes all the Anitchkoffs arrived.
I like going to the baths out of coquetry. Today, for example, my aunt and the Princess came in, and the latter said:
— Look — what a picture!
— Yes, of course — a picture!
Papa dared say I am badly made. But everyone defended me.
Before lunch my aunt came down; the Princess was already there.
— Well, Duchess, she said, are you starting again?
— Mme Romanoff, congratulate your niece — she is marrying the Duke of Hamilton!
— To begin with, the Duke of Hamilton is married.
— But yes! I said.
She too — it displeases her. She too would prefer Miloradovitch; she is afraid of Hamilton. The Princess's jokes today were misplaced, especially before one of the mothers who do not care for such stories. I was embarrassed but did not blush. Several times the name was spoken, and I did not blush.
It is Mme Sacco's celebration; she asked our permission to have her people dance in front of our windows. Paul bought fireworks and Bengal lights.
The Princess and I brought ice cream home, where the Anitchkoffs and Khalkionoff were. I do not give my hand to everyone — only to ladies and to a few old men; to young men, never. Khalkionoff takes it personally.
I am the spirit of the house; I am its life, its movement, and its gaiety. I play the spoiled child; I torment everyone. I pull the ears of Mme Anitchkoff and the Princess — by the way, her little one adores me. Children have a new adoration every day. Like men, alas!