Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 3 February 1875

I feel tired. My head aches a little.
Toward five o'clock I go to the Carnival committee to get tickets for the Prefecture grandstand. The mayor, who knows Maman, led me to the door and opened it, saying —
— Here is a lady who wishes for tickets — But what was my surprise when, instead of a simple ticket-seller, I found the whole Nice contingent — d'Aspremont, Gros, Saëtone, Danis, and so on.
They all rose in haste and all at once asked what I wished. In my turn I answered all of them together that I wished for tickets for the Prefecture grandstand. There were none left, and I withdrew, saying I must consult someone as to whether that person would accept seats in the last row. D'Aspremont then asked me to give my name so that the tickets might be sent to me if I took them. — It is unnecessary — I know Mademoiselle's name, interrupted Saëtone.
I looked at him as if to say — Ah, so you know my name, do you? — and went out, accompanied to the door by this Vulcan.
Having spoken to all these people whom I have seen for so long and who seemed to me beings so inanimate and impossible to address struck me as too strange for me not to feel somewhat animated. Half an hour later I return and ask for the tickets, saying I have just met the person and she consents. An armchair is pulled up for me; d'Aspremont takes his place beside me, showing me the plans and explaining; then he begins to tell me how it will all be — that this evening there is a ball at the Méditerranée, and tomorrow a masked ball at the Italian theatre, quite comme il faut, the whole of society is going, and the ladies will remove their hoods —
— Yes, said Danis eagerly, making the gesture of removing the hood.
— Yes, repeated Gros with his ruffian's air — the hoods will be removed —
— Yes, repeated Saëtone like a final echo. Then d'Aspremont asked if I was going to the ball; I replied that my mother was ill and that I was not yet going out in society. — Ah, if that is the case! he cried — and the same echoes as for the hood were repeated.
He regrets it greatly — for, said he, a masked ball is a rare thing, since almost never is there one proper enough for ladies to attend. I was still waiting for my tickets while d'Aspremont kept me entertained; Danis stood very close by, hopping about, watching, slipping in his word at every turn, and looking as if he wanted to leap out of his own skin. Gros played with Prater, and Saëtone went to sit at the back near the tickets — without making the slightest move to find them.
I stopped speaking and waited.
— Well, my dear fellow, the tickets! cried d'Aspremont. Ah!
— That is true, said Saëtone — here they are. I pay, and Danis changes the hundred-franc note; whereupon I rise. All these men rise promptly, and d'Aspremont escorts me out.
All the same, they are well-bred and polite; I did not expect to find them so.
I forgot to say the main thing: that there were no seats left — but they were made for me. — Are you quite sure, Monsieur, that we shall have chairs?
— Oh, yes there will be chairs — I guarantee it, I shall have them put there myself, answered d'Aspremont. We always have chairs for the ladies — I believe that assurance is binding; and if he does not keep his word, I shall demand my chairs, in the very middle of Carnival, at the grandstand.
When I told this, Maman appeared very pleased that I had obtained what had been refused to everyone else; Pelikan had asked for seats and been refused.
To have seen society people (poor souls, poor Nice society) is to me the same as breathing oxygen after being shut in a theatre.
My head aches and I go to bed very tired.
I forget to mention that on the Promenade I saw Johnstone sitting with his friend on a bench and smoking like a cobbler. I confess that today he struck me as quite common, and today I am considerably less in love with him — on the contrary.
I should like to see him again to make sure. On the race days I found him magnificent, but since then, each day he diminishes. Poor me — I thought I had found a distraction.
He looked straight at me; and as, while talking to Marie, Olga, and Cima, I was looking into the street, it happened that I caught sight of him without expecting to — made a slight, imperceptible backward movement — and continued my sentence, without looking at him further, without turning away, but continuing to [Crossed out: look at] scrutinize the passers-by as the carriage moved forward.