Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 10 June 1874

Fedus, the dog, has escaped.
Requiem aeterno.
I do not care in the least. Although I am not King Dagobert, I put my petticoat on inside out; I therefore foresaw something disagreeable. But nothing happened, except that I did not order my riding habit -- and that is more serious. I spent an hour and a half at the Bon Marche, the Bon Gout, etc.
If I were a man and had a wife like Dina or like Maria Dimitrievna, and she dragged me as the latter drags Stiopa through the Bon Marches and the Petit Saint-Thomases of this world, I should turn her out. And I used to marvel when poor Stiopa grew impatient and complained of all these errands through the department stores.
The deacon was very kind; he stayed only ten minutes.
I have nothing more to read and am going to bed. I have written three letters -- one to Helene, one to Jeanne, and one to my aunt to ask her to send my saddle.
We have taken a piano today; I have already practiced two hours.

Notes

Requiem aeterno: Latin, "eternal rest" -- echoing the Verdi Requiem from the day before, now applied to the escaped dog. ↩