Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 25 September 1875

Today is the day my enemy departs. The weather is atrocious — no sun, a furious wind, a raging sea! I always feel ill-tempered and wretched in such weather. As for the departure, I scarcely regret it; staying, he irritates me too greatly — what I fear above all things is that he may leave us in the lurch. His leaving me in the lurch is no misfortune — but his leaving us all in the lurch would be dreadful. The old song of everyone, in the end — the tearing of my soul at Nice!
(Dark navy woollen dress, black hat — in a word, like the other day when I found myself looking so well at Schlangenbad.) My aunt was not coming, so I took Frédéric and went out to the Promenade,
where the few passers-by opened wide eyes at seeing me in dark colours — I, the lady in white. My aunt picks me up in the carriage; Fritz gets in too. We were very fine, the two of us — my dog and I.
Girofla has not left!
After all — the devil take him; as long as it was a matter between a young man and a young woman, I could be angry — but now that it is turning into the old song of Nice, the devil take him!
Am I right? Because we have not seen him for three days, the darkest suppositions crowd into my head!
What do you expect — I am so afraid; we have been so unhappy at Nice!
And then — that accursed man, disturber of all my pleasures, malignant memory. That dreadful Gericke, in short! The idea that everyone will think as he does enrages me! And then comes, like a punishment from God, my pallor.
Oh, why these tormenting thoughts!
My God — surely it will not be here as it was then! My God, spare me — take away these horrible thoughts!
Ah! Accursed creature — before him I was confident and at peace; he ruined everything for me, that man with the pallid complexion and the perpetually downcast eyes! I never found him pleasing, and yet people invented that I was in love with him! Why did my mother tell me her suspicion — she should have kept it to herself. It is like a poison, a disgusting serpent that creeps everywhere, between the most beautiful flowers, into every fold of my thoughts!
I have only two memories so powerful as this.
The one all white, all clean, radiant, gracious, adorable — the other dirty and black and malignant. The Duke, and that dreadful man whose name I will not write beside the Duke's.
He was not dreadful in himself — but for all these suppositions, for my pallor that was attributed to him!
Oh! it is dreadful, dreadful, dreadful! So I shall never be rid of this loathing — and each time I am cheerful, a disgusting voice will say to me with a mocking tone: Take care — it may be as it was with Gericke.
My God — if it were at least true! But you know it is not — my journal is here to protest loudly against this soiling slander.
Ah! if only I could forget that such a man ever existed!
Maman told me he believed I was crazy about him and did not wish to encourage this passion. She added also that the public attributed my illness to this passion.]
Let us leave these horrors for the moment.
I go to the theatre hairdresser to hire an old man's beard and wig. All the costume is already at home. Tomorrow we shall see what it is.
The Graces invite me this evening to the theatre; I accept the invitation in verse — but I wished not to spend more time on it than on an ordinary reply.
Walking, we enter their house; I am cheerful and make everyone laugh.
— There goes Audiffret, said Olga.
And I watch him pass — it is at that moment I truly appreciated the difference, the impossibility of comparison. I did not even blush; I felt a little vexation, a little fear — and that is all.
The Graces are very pretty, all in pink; I am white Empire as usual. I am pleased with myself this evening. Nina and my aunt in the row behind. During the intervals, by way of escort: Bihovetz and Paris — o miseria!
There is nothing of interest in the house.
— You see, Euphrosine, I said — I am wrapping my neck in this great veil because there is no one here; if someone comes I shall take it off.
And Fiouloulou comes — but I do not uncover myself; I free my neck a little more, that is all. This fine tulle throws my complexion into admirable relief, and, for greater coquetry, I held my hand as if drowned in this tulle — the veil descends to the waist, forming a large knot like a snowball; my hand, not beautiful but delicate and very white.
I am pleased to see Galula — he has no doubt come from the other's. Indeed, he has just left him.
— So he has not left, I said.
— No, my goodness, Mademoiselle — one often tells oneself: I am going to leave, and then one stays. And besides — he is who he is, you know!..
To go out I put this adorable veil on my head — one cannot imagine the grace it lends to my face. And all of it in vain.
Well, then!
He does it on purpose, my aunt tells me when we are already home. He courts and then leaves one in the lurch.
— Well, my aunt, and he has left me in the lurch! What do you expect one to do about it — he is a vicious young man; I told you so.
— Poor aunt, I added — you are quite undone by it!
I am not at all undone — but I find the conduct of all these people strange. At the beginning they came often, almost every day — one saw them everywhere — and now… It is strange, that is all; I do not understand them.
— What do you expect, Madame — it is the old song of Nice. Believe me, it does not suit us here. They do as the others did. We are unhappy here.
— And Saetone and everyone — I do not understand them. They are very strange, I assure you.
— Well yes, you are right. As long as it was a personal matter it was nothing — but now that it has become the old song of Nice, it is disgusting; I am grieved, and I am no longer angry.
[LAST UNNUMBERED PAGE: Nine lines crossed out]

Notes

The superscript in the original refers to a note written later in the margin, transcribed in 044.0222. ↩
o miseria: "oh misery!" In Latin in the original. ↩