Saturday, 25 October 1873

Last evening I had barely fallen asleep when I hear a knock at the door -- it is Dina and Paul.
I did not know what they wanted and I send them to the devil, but they call me -- they say Maman is very ill. So I put on my coat and go down, still half asleep. In the dining room I find Maman seated on a chair in a dreadful state, everyone around her with anxious and troubled faces. I see that she is very bad. She wants to see me, she says, once more before dying. I am seized with horror but do not let it show.
It is a terrible attack of nerves -- never has it been so violent. Everyone is in despair! Poor Georges has the eyes of a madman, so frightened is he.
They send for Rehberg and Macario. Servants are dispatched in every direction to fetch remedies. Never shall I be able to give an idea of this horrible night! I am woken at noon. And still Maman, who says constantly that she is dying!!
They woke the Anitchkoffs; they come running at once. I stayed the whole time in the armchair near the window -- there were, without me, enough people to do what was needed. Besides, I do not know how to nurse; I detest seeing anyone nursed. It is an extraordinary feeling -- something revolting that I experience.
Oh, I was deeply unhappy! Never yet have I suffered so much -- yes, on the 13th of October I suffered as much, but in a different way.
At one moment Maman felt very faint, and I could not restrain myself -- I called for Walitsky with loud cries.
But it is dreadful! The first thought I had was to pray.
The doctors came and went continually. At last, with the help of mustard plasters and I know not how many other horrors, they achieved something. They put Maman to bed in her room and we were all around the bed. But she is no better yet; it was not before three o'clock that they made any progress.
Oh, but when I think of that night I shudder! It is frightful! The doctors say these attacks are very dangerous and must not be repeated, for... Oh, it is dreadful!
It was so dreadful that I cannot describe it. But thank God the danger has passed. We are all more at ease and remain in her room. As the sea after a great tempest grows calm and seems frozen, so we were all, after such great troubles, seated calmly together, so calmly that I could not understand what was happening. Aside from the outward calm, in each soul reigned a perfect well-being and a tranquility so sweet that never, it seems to me, had we been so happy. It was Georges who first said it. Poor Georges -- he was so frightened that he dared not come in, but stayed near the doors with a haggard eye, asking for news of those who came out.
I go to bed; it is three o'clock.
But what has changed is that during nearly all this time, my anxiety was joined by the misfortune of Hamilton, and never have I grieved for him so vividly and deeply. I throw myself on my bed with these words: Oh Hamilton! Oh Hamilton! But I checked myself, and on my knees I thanked God for having saved Maman.
I wake at a quarter past ten. I was to have had three tutors this morning from seven to half past eleven. Maman came this morning into the room next to mine. She is a little better.
I go down to lunch, and Papa begins to make a show of his sentiment. I told him so.
The calm and well-being of yesterday still reign today. I am horribly tired. Dina rode this morning; she saw Mme Prodgers with a new man. We go out at three o'clock and it feels like twelve. I sent the bodices to Worth. On the promenade we saw Wittgenstein with his beauty. The wind is dreadful. We go home to fetch Dina, and near the door I see a trunk -- what is it? They tell me it is Markevitch. I leap from the landau -- I ask what? how? where? -- I have no time to finish my questions when I feel myself seized by someone. It is Solominka. She is so glad to see me, so delighted, so happy! I too am very glad to see her. I thought she would crush me with her kisses. And instantly a thousand questions! I take her to my room; I show her my dresses (she is a great enthusiast).
She was to spend the winter at Pau; she spent two days there, and unable to bear the tedium of that town, she came to Nice. Maman, who was sleeping, woke; Solominka goes to her. Again a thousand exclamations, kisses, questions, answers. At five o'clock we go out with Solominka; we go to the promenade.
I believe Bete and Solominka will not bite each other; they are both against that wild Persian woman, and they are right. And also they both love ice cream to the point of adoration. We see Wittgenstein again; they pass us. That woman looks at us -- I believe that stupefied Wittgenstein told her we blushed the other day. He gets drunk like a swine, and he looks fierce and brutish. We passed them once more as they were going home. One can see he is a Russian swine and conducts himself like one; he looks like the husband of the Soubise, so wretched does he appear beside his cocotte.
The Duke of Hamilton also had a cocotte, but conducted himself nobly, like a great lord, as a master. One never saw him tied to the apron strings of such a woman.
[Sketch by Marie]
We go to the London House, where we see that brute of an animal, Patton. Solominka asked if I continue my journal.
"Yes," said Walitsky, "and there are seven volumes that have been sent to the Duke of Hamilton."
Everyone comes to my room and we talk of our travels.
Solominka says:
"Gritsia got your photograph from me and said she was nice, always well dressed."
"What a brute! Nice! For a Russian swine like you I am 'nice'?!"
Stupid swine, you make me pity you! I feel only pity and contempt.
My very dear father has a French actress, Durocher; she is forty-two. He is in love (?) with her, buys her diamonds, and will do us the pleasure of coming to Nice with her.
She lives at his house, and his sisters, the Mmes Tutcheff etc., come to see him -- and her too, this woman. People are so swinish in Russia that my pater does not trouble himself in the least; after the theatre they sup and get into the carriage before everyone, and go home together -- my father and the actress.
Society is not at all shocked, and no one says a thing when M. Bachkirzeff [sic] appears with Durocher and then goes to speak with ladies. In the same garden, in a restaurant, two tables are laid: at one sit Durocher, my father, and others; at the other, ladies comme il faut -- and my father, in the middle of supper, passes from one table to the other without scruple.
I cite this as one of the piggish customs of the Russian provinces. We remember -- or rather Maman and we recount the story of my abduction to Bete. Solominka was not there. Patton came to read a denunciation from Fijka.
This whole day is so calm, so pleasant, so happy.
Solominka admires my room, my taste, my dresses, my boots, my... I no longer know what -- everything, in short.
Bete and Solominka agree that I am the most likable of the whole family. They love me very much, and Solominka said she loves me extraordinarily.
My father's love affairs are public. How swinish people are in Russia! No, I shall not live in Russia -- I want to be English.
Solominka will lodge with us until the Englishwoman arrives.
Bete will receive two thousand francs from her mother-in-law. And I -- I am going to weep for my Duke.

Notes

In English in the original.