Friday, 30 October 1874

I took all my lessons and am pleased.
I walked with Paul and Porthos; the latter plays about, but the games of such a monster make themselves felt too keenly, and I am not happy.
I shall sell him and buy a good Newfoundland, as I originally wanted. That breed is gentle and good, while I am a little afraid of Porthos despite his great beauty.
But at dinner I am met with unpleasantness.
Papa was wailing and howling:
— And yet I cost you very little — they wash my shirt once a month, etc. Seeing this falsehood, I had the imprudence to say:
— How very strange, Papa — when there is no one else present you say you cost us money, that we pay for you, while in front of any outsider you say we are living on your funds.
Instead of falling silent before this truth, he began to shout at the top of his voice that I was lying, and to call me hurtful and vulgarly impertinent names. I went pale with anger but forced myself to smile and said again:
— I am not lying — and I repeated his own words, spoken in front of Daniloff. I am astonished now at so much audacity and cowardice! Far from acknowledging it was true, he shouted louder and insulted my family, my birth, my name, my grandfather — said everything that could possibly be most cruelly wounding, injurious, offensive, outrageous to my self-esteem and my pride.
The most cruel insult one can inflict is to attack someone's name and birth. A person can bear anything except that.
— I know, I said at last, why you dare to treat me this way — because I spoke ill of Collignon. Allow me to inform you that I have no interest either in furthering or in preventing your marriage; I am a stranger to you and have no inheritance rights whatsoever. It is therefore useless to persecute me on that account.
Then he changed his tone; after having called me carrion, hussy, and other words still worse that make my blood boil as I write this — (the next day) — he wept, crying that he was a wretch, that he had lived to see this day, I, unhappy man, to have lived to this, unfortunate, miserable, and who is it that offends me — a mferdje, a Bashkirtseff carrion.
Oh, rage! I cannot write these things — I am going mad with anger!!!
I did not call him what he called me, for my tongue would have been ashamed to pronounce such words, as my pen is ashamed to write them — but I called him a swine, and told him he was drunk and I would not speak to him. I truly believe that without having drunk too much, one cannot dare such insults.
I went up to Maman.
— Well, what were you up to? she asked.
— What does it matter — there were terrible moments.
I recounted to her, very calmly and briefly, what had taken place, and demanded an explanation for the horrors I had just endured, and why I was exposed to such dreadful impertinences, being in no way whatsoever indebted to my grandfather.
I was seething — dying of rage — but consoled myself with the thought that I would never forget, and strangely enough this thought nearly calmed me.
But then Georges arrives, and as I repeated what I had said about Collignon, he said: That's the Bashkirtseff way — I did not catch the end of his sentence. I had been containing myself too long; for an hour I had been under constant attack in my name — for an hour my name had been dragged through the mud and torn to pieces — and at last I burst:
— My name again! Again! I cried, beside myself. So I am guilty of not having been born a soiled and compromised Babanine. My God, my God, how they insult me here! I cried [two or three words crossed out] in a desperate voice, beside myself, raising my arms to heaven — and this moment was apparently terrible, for Maman, ill as she was, leapt from her bed and threw herself on her knees before me; I let myself fall on her shoulder, trembling and sobbing with anger and humiliation. It all happened so suddenly that, having raised my hands in the air, I had not time to cover my face — Maman was already there. For several whole minutes I could not calm myself. Maman pleaded with me, consoled me, but the insult was too great and it will remain with me always.
Once I was able to speak, I told the naked truth about the Babanines — "this noble family." It would take too long to recount their affairs here; I will speak of them in our own history. Here I will only say that from a respected, loved, honoured and feared household, they made a miserable, insignificant one — they covered it with shame and scandal. Where the governor once arrived with respect and reserve, because of them came [illegible], policemen, gendarmes with noise and impertinence — they got themselves into disagreeable and disgraceful scrapes. In a word: where once the name Babanine caused men to remove their hats, now it causes them to spit. And it is they who reproach me for my name and my family!
I know my father little and love him even less, but whoever attacks him attacks in his person my entire lineage — and myself. Which I will not suffer.
I had barely calmed down when Maman's headache redoubled — which was only to be expected after such a scene.
Ange and Daniloff came and stayed a long time; Ange showed great kindness to Maman, caressing and tending to her.

Notes

In English in the original.