Monday, 26 July 1875

I feel better, having slept more, but I woke ten times in the night. That never happens to me; it is strange.
Yesterday I was divinely kind: I found everyone charming, and when my Graces tried to make fun of someone I stopped them and said so many good things about that someone that I laughed myself.
We have this Russian cook, as I said. He was formerly with the consul, who, for some offence I no longer remember, had him imprisoned for six months. He came out when his term expired, and by law, within a week he must either leave France or find someone to vouch for his future conduct.
It is a matter for the Prefecture; my aunt asks me, and I write a few words to Mercury:
Copied letterBillet de Marie à Saëtone, 26 juillet 1875
Dear Sir, Kindly call on us at about six o’clock. I have some business with you. Marie Bashkirtseff.
I shall have to ask him a favour — what a bore — yet I must; this man has been placed under my protection. They think me powerful because those gentlemen of the Prefecture come here.
My aunt will stand guarantor, but it has to be arranged. Well, we shall see what my uncle Andriot is willing to do.
He does not come. I go to the baths and, halfway down the steps that lead under the awning, in my sweetest voice I call: “M. Saetone!” He comes up and I explain the matter to him, a little flustered at asking a favour, while the whole bathing crowd looks on with immense curiosity, wondering what business I can possibly have with my uncle. He promises to see to it. He has been out since this morning and did not get my letter.
“Look,” I say to him, “how all those gentlemen are staring.”
“Yes — don’t tell them why you called me, because they will ask me, and I shall not tell them.”
Just look at the cunning rascal! It is so that he can invent something — not for himself, since no one would believe him, but for his patron and nephew. He asks me again to promise to say nothing. And I promise him nothing.
I am not such a fool.
In the evening at nine o’clock Marie, Olga and I, disguised as lady’s maids, go into the old town to a fortune-teller.
Léonie took us. I was afraid of some advances from the cab driver, but still more I feared that the witch would foretell some misfortune for me. She takes us for what we wished to be taken for and asks whether we are in service, and so on.
I badly wanted to laugh while I answered her. She offers me a good place, but I tell her I want to marry a butler at the very least.
“Ah, my dear, that would give you a position, and no mistake. Well, I have just the thing for you.”
And she offers me a young manservant of twenty-six who earns a great deal. At last she reads the cards for me.
Four men love me, and several others take an interest in me and talk about me. There is a fair one, a foreigner; a chestnut-haired one; an older man; and a dark one.
The older man is very much in love but holds back and does not dare; the dark one has gone away to settle a money matter; he is uneasy and very jealous, and fears I will be unfaithful to him. Very soon he will ask for my hand, and I shall quarrel with him. I shall make a very brilliant marriage, and very soon; several people will try to prevent it out of jealousy and will try to tarnish my reputation, but I shall come out victorious. A man of no account, above all, will speak ill of me to the dark one and try to drive him away, out of love for me. Money will come to me from all sides. What I desire will succeed completely; I shall come out victorious, I shall marry very quickly, and I shall have everything I desire.
A certain fair man will try to do me a nasty turn, but I shall have so many people on my side that he will be able to do nothing.
The dark one who is in love thinks only of me and is waiting for a letter or some news from me, and I shall see him tomorrow or the day after, towards evening.
Finally, I am under the protection of the angel, the sun shines upon me, and great riches will come to me. Those were the old woman’s closing words.
I am delighted, and instead of listening to what she tells my companions, I banter with Léonie and talk endless nonsense.
I made her explain the marriage properly; she cannot be precise, but the marriage is there, for certain, and very soon. And a marriage with the dark man I am thinking of. That is vague — I think of several dark men. But what she told me of the dark man on his travels delights me.
Ah! if it were true.
How I would send him packing, how I would torment him. What a good lesson I would give [him]!
How I would prove to him the opposite of what he thinks!
If the old woman did not tell the truth, she at least spoke so much in accordance with my wishes that I believe it is true.
She also said that I shall receive a letter.
As for marriage, that is true; my own cards tell me so at every moment.
The sooner the better. There are days when I cannot write two lines; today is a day like that. My nerves are on edge!
We have the carriage stop opposite number 77. Instead of going home, I break the wooden sticks that had been put between the bars of the railing, push my hand through and tear out a plant, as last time, but ten times bigger; my hand is riddled with thorns, but I do not stop there — I tear up a pretty cactus at Rosalie Léon’s, and then we go home.
Nina has tea with us until one in the morning.
But we no longer laugh as we used to — as we did before we knew Girofla.
I cannot write!

Notes

Mercure (Mercury) — Marie’s nickname for Saëtone, the go-between who carries news. ↩
In Italian in the original: Quanto al matrimonio. ↩