Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 14 May 1875

[One line cancelled]
I have written to Paul and to Sacha, so that they may make clear to my father that I am going to Russia — not to stay with him.
He might well think so — and I should be furious.
I am of an unparalleled sadness. The thought that I shall never be what I want to be weighs on me more than a mountain. And I miss the man so terribly that I catch myself thinking we are in 1873 and not 1875.
One thing consoles me: it seems to me that he does not love her. But I picture her very clearly, and I want to describe her here in order to compare.
She is of medium height, with a pretty figure and square, high shoulders — like Gioia — and she [one line cancelled] is slimmer than Gioia. Dark, with a rather deep and matte complexion, very black eyes beneath equally black brows that are severe in expression.
The mouth a little large, but pleasant — and a square chin.
I see her thus — dressed in a light unbleached garment, open-work embroidered, brown skirt, and a hat of the sort I am wearing at present.
I should like to know whether I have guessed right. Guessed or not — this creature torments me greatly, above all because I know myself to be better than she is.
I have grown pale since yesterday — small wonder. I am still astonished to be alive, not to have been burned, annihilated, pulverised by anger, anxiety, and envy!
In the evening at the Théâtre Français they are giving La Boule and Ravel is playing. I am in white and pretty — why?
Audiffret is below in the stalls; I grow irritated, I do not understand — the peasant. Am I already so ugly? Is he in love elsewhere?
He has such a young, fresh face that I want to look at him — that is, to talk about him; as for actually looking at him, no indeed — he would imagine a thousand things.
He is the only man here and I want him — if there were several, I should want them all. No, truly, his imperturbable behaviour enrages me!