Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 11 June 1875

I have the darkest thoughts on earth.
I have a pain in my chest and it seems to me I have consumption. My dream of stars falling from the sky returns, and everywhere I seem to see nothing but death. Wretched creatures that we are!
Truly there must exist another world, a better one — this one is not admirable.
Those were this morning's thoughts, not this evening's.
Of course not! I am pretty again — maddeningly so. I look at myself, and that is not enough. I went to bed early yesterday and it has done my complexion good. I have never been sturdy as a farm woman, and I tire fairly easily.
But this evening I have a face worth kissing.
This chest pain worries me, and for five days I have been spitting blood. It is dreadful!
I am pretty at the sea baths too. Scarcely have I sat down when — for fear no doubt of Audiffret's arriving — Lucie Durand comes to sit beside me and chat while embroidering some nameless thing. But it is in vain: the man in white does not come. Maman and Dina arrive a little later. I am very much looked at. One always knows how one is being looked at. But a strange thing: Collignon and Walitsky both swear they saw the green carriage (Girofla has green livery, doubtless in memory of Gioia) near the sea baths, and the man in white at the baths on the left side. Quite possible — the large cabin prevented me from seeing that side. Well then — Lucie succeeded. Of course!
I understand his hatred of the Durands.
That absurd, stupid old creature has broken up his home.
His father had been living with his wife, Audiffret's stepmother, for sixteen or seventeen years — if not happily, at least decently. People did say he beat his wife, that she was unhappy. But people say so many things, and then — what does it matter?
They lived together; all went tolerably; they entertained; their house was a good and proper house.
And now this absurd fool — who would do far better to look after her daughters' education — meddles in this respectable and respected household, stirs up the wife, shields her flirtation with an old and ugly man like Vigier, sows discord, makes a scene, a scandal! And the result of all these fine intrigues! Behold, good people: here is a husband and wife with three children — two daughters nearly of marriageable age and a child of five — going to law over a separation! And for the past two days, separated in person and in property!
I looked at the heavy and stupid Durand woman, and thinking of her handiwork she seemed so revolting to me that I turned away! The story is told in many ways; here is what seems to me most likely. Audiffret forbade his wife to visit the Durands; Mme Durand gives a picnic; Mme Audiffret sends her excuses and does not go. Mme Durand goes to her, tells her all manner of things — that she is young, that she is beautiful, that her husband is old, that old as he is he still chases women, names these women, says so much and so much that in the end Mme Audiffret gets dressed and goes with her.
The husband comes home and asks where madame is. Madame has gone off with Mme Durand.
Gone off! And he writes asking her to return. As she does not return, he goes there — the door is slammed in his face; he forces the door; Lewin, who was engaged at the time, throws him out of the room. In a word: scandal!
After that came the affair of the pistol.
It seems incredible to me that it was on account of Vigier. In any case Mme Durand's role in all this has been more than ambiguous — more than wicked.
To shatter a family, scatter it, separate a husband and wife — and what will become of those poor little girls.
What position will be theirs! I understand it, I do! Strangling that fat absurd woman would be the least of it! I can certainly understand Girofla. He is a good son, a very good son, as everyone says — and even if he were a bad son, [Crossed out: was he not an excellent son] is it agreeable? Such a scandal, and his lawyers — that accursed breed! ==Libera nos ab avocatis Domine!= These lawyers who said atrocious things, who branded the wife and blackened the husband.
Shame! Shame! Shame!
I should like to know the truth of it all. I should also like to see Girofla — I feel for him, I share his indignation, his grief — and besides that, I simply want to see him because I am very bored.
I am impatient and shall go to bed to shorten the time.
But no — I hear Collignon calling me, and the tone of her voice promises something interesting. I go up and she puts the binoculars in my hands and tells me to look at the château.
The château is always interesting. There is a beautiful moonlight and one can see very well.
The light I had noticed this evening is a lamp — around the table are several people, and Collignon has recognised the white figure of the lord of the château.
Mardi! How that rings out. One can also see a lit doorway. This light had intrigued me at dusk, when one could not make things out very well — especially with the naked eye.
Now let us sleep — ==Dominus nobiscum!=
[Crossed out: 12 June 1875]
Well — not yet. Dina comes home and challenges me to guess where she has been. Of course! I guessed at once but said nothing. I let her tell me how from the Sapogenikoffs', she, Marie, Olga, and Walitsky went near the château, and saw a white table, two candles, and Girofla dining serenely with Fiouloulou — what luck to be able to say Fiouloulou! — in the moonlight.
[One line cancelled: Of course it is very droll.]
Now I am really going to bed!

Notes

Phtisie — the 19th-century term for tuberculosis/consumption, a disease Marie would ultimately die of in 1884. ↩
"Libera nos ab avocatis Domine" — Latin: "Deliver us from lawyers, O Lord" — a parody of the liturgical petition "Libera nos, Domine" ("Deliver us, O Lord"). ↩
"Dominus nobiscum" — Latin: "The Lord be with us," a liturgical phrase. ↩