Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 31 March 1874

I do not go out until five o'clock; it is fortunately cool. We go to the villa, to the Promenade. Lewin was walking and bowed; I do not know what I was thinking, but for the first moment it seemed to me that it was Wittgenstein who had greeted me, and I was stupefied.
I go with Maman, my aunt, and Dina to the Bohemian crystal shop, where we buy a few useless trifles. M. Apletcheieff comes to greet Maman by the carriage.
In spite of everything I was almost certain that horse was his, and indeed it was. Here is another name that reminds me of him and makes me admire him.
X Out of sight, out of mind; there are moments when the Duke of Hamilton is nothing but a memory. He ought to be nothing else since his marriage.
To love him now is a sin. As soon as I write what I have just written since X, I feel entirely the opposite, and I feel that he is the only man I can love completely -- not out of kindness, or indulgence, but because I love him.
He is the only one I could kiss... with pleasure.
He is the only one who pleases me entirely, in whom I find nothing to criticize.
I am wrong to praise him so much; it weakens what I feel.
What would I not have given to see him... if at this moment he were to walk in here.
It is known that I adore the night. I come back from my studies; I had opened the window; the sky was matte, the clouds covered the moon. I begin to sing, and I notice that there is a wonderful echo. I called Josephine, who was stupefied by it. Finally, believing it was a person singing, I called: Bijou! Bijou! then: Bete! Stupid. And the echo perfectly repeated everything. I am quite amazed and delighted.