Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff

Notebook 031

April 1875 — April 1875

20 entries 20 translated

Main location: Nice

Read from the beginning

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At one o'clock I leave for Cannes with my aunt (grey dress and a hat trimmed with a Valenciennes lace fichu, held in front by a perfectly adorable...

What a strange thing! Ever since I saw the Prince of Wales — or the ecnirp ed sellag — I have had the craze of reversing names. Ever since I saw the...

I dreamt that the postman was bringing my letter to the Hôtel de Luxembourg; I lean from the balcony and read the address, then ask him where the...

I began my drawing and painting lessons yesterday with Professor Nègre.

I was wrong about that — last night I did not sleep until about half past twelve; I was hot, then cold.

My hair has suddenly stopped curling. Alas!

What a strange spring! Cold and grey.

I am mad about *Madame l'Archiduc* — I do nothing but sing it. Arriving at Cannes at seven o'clock, instead of speaking I sing l'Archiduc and behave...

I was at church with Collignon and Dina. Nothing suits me so well as Anglican prayers. Pending becoming a declared Protestant, I am one at heart.

If Johnstone did not come to visit me, I have lost nothing — for I have had one of the most extraordinary, most significant, and most brilliant of...

Oh! The terrible thing! Brunet brings me a *Dream Key* and I read: *To see stars fall: death.* — Ugh! How horrible. I believe in dreams — but not...

(Oh! How pretty I am this evening.)

Yourkoff comes to tell us something curious. A Belgian gentleman made his acquaintance at the London House and praised me to him endlessly, ending...

I do not go out until half past five; almost no one — I am wrong, there were Lady Folkner, her husband, and Loftus. Loftus is handsome but looks...

Here is the great day. At half past two, a matinée at Mme Conti Damoreau's and Monsieur Laussel's. The performers are the pupils and the audience...

Instead of being amused I am dying of sadness — and to think that yesterday I was making admirable plans.

How beautiful the weather is!

The Howards were so ugly last night, so badly built, so badly dressed, that I am extremely pleased about it.

At nine in the morning I go for a walk before the villa, without a hat and reading. The weather is so beautiful. I am in a melancholy frame of mind...

Last evening at church I saw Mme Voyeïkoff; she greeted me very kindly, and I approach her — [Crossed out: amongst other things she says to me] —...