Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 9 December 1874

It is cold; I am bored. Foster replies to my letter — I think he has no desire to take charge of my horse. The devil with him, then!
At Laussel's I saw Hélène and Lise — they are completely cold towards us. This evening they are giving a girls' party; we are not invited. Why, then, did she come yesterday? At Foster's before dinner — tomorrow she is riding with me.
I wept to go to Paris. Foolish, foolish, utterly foolish! For one second I believed I might obtain something without scenes, shouting, and tears. One must tug, torment, and torture — and only then accomplish anything. For more than a quarter of an hour I sat before my aunt, my head on the table between my arms; I was furious; I wanted to make a scene as I left. I stood up and said:
— There's for you, Satan! — striking my aunt with all my force on the knee with my hand, and then shoving her with my body. It is vulgar, but it is a relief!
Oh my God, help me! [One line crossed out: I (illegible), I am not] [Annotation: 24 December 1874. And forgive me this unworthy and vile act.]
Today for the second time I saw the curly donkey — [Crossed out: but curly like the] its back and flanks are chestnut-red and curly. This donkey reminds me of the Duke's head, and I blush when I see it. Poor Duke! That is not very flattering for you.