Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 10 August 1873

We were expecting Preiss at noon, but at a quarter past twelve we went down to luncheon.
When I came back up, the chambermaid told me that the gentleman had come again and will return tomorrow at four. How unlucky — that is three times he has come. He no doubt believes it is Mme Miloradovitch, judging by his eagerness. It is cold, superb weather. I am awake — the heat was killing me. It is raining a little (grey dress, not bad). At the Exposition there is a crowd today. On arriving, I wanted to take the lift to the top. Halfway up, my aunt wants to turn back; I want to continue — I continue. She stays below, promising to return to the hotel and growing angry. But I knew very well she would wait for me, and I continue. The stairs are flooded; one can barely walk without getting wet. From the top, the view is very fine — one sees all the buildings of the Exposition, the pavilions, the fountains, etc. etc. It is a delicious day, so cool; at least one can see things.
At five we return and dine at the hotel. We go to the opera: Hamlet. I see it for the first time (white muslin dress, natural hair, no gloves — good, perhaps very). The opera pleases me very much; the women are very beautiful, the costumes too — the Queen's in particular. Ophelia is very fine in the mad scene; she drowns admirably. The burial scene is stupid. Truly the Vienna theatre is beautiful — there is nothing to say; the singers, the scenery, the costumes, the orchestra, the ballet — everything, in a word, is perfect. Three years ago it was far from being so for the female singers. And then, I was less particular.
We walked home. We had all laughed a great deal. At home, I annoyed Dina some more.