Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 7 September 1873

I put on my grey dress, quite fresh, with the ruffle around my neck and the red cross on a very thin, pale blue ribbon (a little tired, but well). I read The Precipice. Toward three o'clock the Princess, my aunt (Makaroff gone), and Walitsky go to Monte Carlo. Maman wants to go too, but we remain alone. Then I propose going, and we go. I played myself and won. It is time to go down for the five o'clock train, but Maman dawdles over everything. At last we descend, but alas, too late, too late -- I missed the departure! As we were going back up, my aunt meets us; she too had wanted to leave.
I am very displeased, and Maman is cross on my account. She proposes we dine; the dishes of the day are not ready, so we play again. In the restaurant there are crowds and we cannot find a table, so that drowned rat Zibine offers his; I accept with repugnance, but fortunately all the gamblers come and we were in good company.
The Princess plays; I do not know what she is thinking! She borrows, she loses, and she has not the means to repay. She said quietly to my aunt -- but I could hear everything -- that two men at her table were talking; they found me ravishing, beautiful, graceful; then one said I am Russian; no, said the other, an Englishwoman; but no, she is a German. Who is she?
Good God, I the subject of curiosity! They must have been ugly men; handsome ones could not find me beautiful. This is surely an invention of the Princess.
Once more, why do people look at me? I do everything to be plain: I wear simple dresses, not a ribbon, not a bow, not a flower -- a perfectly plain grey cloth dress, a straw hat with a black ribbon and a rooster feather. And yet people look at me, and all the more. Today, for instance.
They are not laughing at me, I am sure of that. I am not comical; a year ago I was a little ridiculous, but not now.
Eight o'clock approaches; the same story with Maman again -- I tell her it is time, not yet. I would certainly have missed the train had Walitsky not come down with me. We had only four minutes; we run, and I regret it: just at the corner of the casino I see Gioia ascending, leaning on the arm of a handsome young man. I wanted to turn back, but imperceptibly I find myself at the bottom. I have only time to board, Walitsky too.
Georges is at our house. Walitsky told me in secret that during our absence he dared (oh, I am seething!) to bring Anna to dinner. Each time Maman went away. But how did he dare! I cannot comprehend, cannot imagine such audacity!
What a swine! But Papa too is a fine swine, a madman, a degenerate, a sacrilege to encourage such a thing. I shudder at the very idea.
Oh! My brother would not even dare to tell me that such-and-such a woman exists. As if I would permit it! But if he dared... no, he would never dare -- sooner die!
I confess that after these fine doings, Georges's presence was disagreeable to me. When I said that woman is the equal of man, I was told that no, woman has her work and man his. The man, for instance, is a professor; the woman must be a housekeeper at home.
Walitsky:
-- So Hamilton will race his horses and Marie will be obliged to muck out the stables? And another one or two absurdities about the Duke of Hamilton.
I no longer blush, but I cannot help smiling luminously, and the more I hold back, the more luminous it becomes.

Notes

In English in the original. ↩