Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 10 July 1874

[In the margin: Bas. means Basilevitch.]
In the morning, first the Dieulafait coat arrives, then the long-awaited riding habit. Apart from the usual fault of all my bodices, there will be nothing to alter.
We saw -- or rather I saw -- Basilevitch going to meet Bebe at the fountain. The coldness is passing. At one o'clock we go to the marquise's for luncheon. She feeds one very well and abundantly; at luncheon there were ten courses.
I was tolerably calm, but the Poles come and I want to flee. I wondered why I detest them so! They are kind, amiable, not stupid -- but I cannot bear them. Afterwards, everyone goes to the garden. I swing (we must have a swing in Nice) so as not to speak with the Poles, until I am quite dizzy and pale. Then I seize Mme Davignon, Josephine's mother, a petty bourgeoise from here, and go walking with her. I lowered my conversation to her level, so that she was spared the effort of raising hers to mine and found herself at ease. All in all, she is not stupid and converses well -- within her sphere.
We leave at four o'clock. Truly, I find the marquise and the marquis especially charming, charming, so kind -- if only there were not the Poles!
From there, all those who were present come to our house. On Tuesday there is a picnic at Barizart, and everyone gathers at our house likewise. That will make a fine commotion for the good town of Spa, right before the good Pouhon.
I drink half a jug of milk and go to dinner for form's sake only. In the little Laeken restaurant, what they give for two francs fifty is marvellous. The poor wretches are ruining themselves.
Proof that what they serve is good is that I eat it.
Body claims that Bagatelle is a genuine and handsome bull. The Haristoffs' dog is too beautiful.
I go out in the evening with Maman; we find under a tree Basilevitch, Bebe, and the husband. Charming trio.
In all seriousness, Basilevitch is a virtuous woman; she [Interlined: 14 July. I know nothing of the sort.] is gay, frivolous in appearance, but her admirers complain of her virtue. De Neufarge came and sat down opposite, under another tree. He was posing.
There is a concert, which we do not attend; instead we stay without any music near the empty bandstand until half past nine. De Bauche was conversing with Maman, and Bebe was spreading himself between myself, Basilevitch, and Dina.
Without the least shame, he spoke of trousers, of skirts, advising us to dress as men and so ride astride.
-- No, that would be fit for a dancer, and my mother would not allow it. That calmed him a little.
Here is a man of good standing, handsome and noble, who is ruined by his brusque manners, worthy of a Russian officer.
As Maman says, he is extremely (his perpetual word) spoiled by ladies, and behaves like a spoiled child. At the Pouhon, pushing my drinking tube, he says:
-- Here, blow into it.
He has the manners of the Durands and of Jeanne the Indian.
At half past nine we go to the reading room, which is full -- Basilevitch, Dina, the Polish girl! Bebe and I sit around a game of dominoes. And I give him a Russian lesson. He can now say: I understand, give me a steak, good day, good night, farewell, goodbye, fool, Katenka, Douchenka, leave me alone, you bore me, imbecile, and swine.
We laughed so much that those who were reading cannot have read a great deal. I laughed heartily. He is droll, the baron, and when he bent down to write one could see his pretty, well-arranged hair. It has been a long time since I have seen a nice clean head, so clean that one [Crossed out: could] would kiss it.
I am bracing myself for the great scandal which, I tremble, must come one day. It will be when someone reads my journal. Today my key was with Dina, who found it and swears she was not curious. It is a great folly to write what one thinks. It serves me to verify whether I change. Well, the principal, the fundamental ideas have not changed.
I am well pleased.
Original turkey with note paper.
I always have this inscription before my eyes when I write.
I saw another dog, a young Saint Bernard of surpassing beauty.
We approached his owner, an Englishman, so beautiful was this dog. A dog like that is... it is immense! It is almost a human being; it is a joy, a delight. What would I not give for such a dog! Who will find me such a dog!!! I took him by the head! What a head! What a dog! Who will find me such a dog! What would I not give for such a dog.
Such a dog!
What bliss!
What a head!
And that head!
Who will find me such a dog?
Such a treasure, such a blessing!
I would give everything I have
For such a head...
Ah! The beautiful beast!
Evohe! This dog inspires me.
With all that, I was forgetting to say what Gericke did in the confectioner's shop where we went in before the Casino. I threw away the core of a pear after gnawing it, and... and he picked it up and bit into it!
He did better still: he took the brim of my hat in his hand to push it back, and so [Crossed out: I took him by the] I stopped his hand firmly.
He is a madman!
Once home, I said to Maman:
-- You know what Gericke did? I threw away a pear and he ate it.
A smile of satisfaction passed over Maman's lips:
-- Well, it is because a young man runs when a young girl pleases him.
But that is not it; he did it out of nonchalance, absent-mindedness, stupidity.
[Cancelled: The more I see men, the more I love the Duke of Hamilton.]

Notes

In English in the original. Inscription on Marie's writing materials. ↩