Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 6 October 1875

Cassandra's Prophecy

1 Your son will leave this place And stir a mighty noise — He'll sing and shout and laugh, But rot, but rot!
2 To Paris he will go, At Bignon's he'll lunch, In the Bois he'll stroll, And rot, and rot!
3 He'll frequent every filthy haunt, Keep his kept women, Fancy himself a nabob, And rot, and rot!
4 At the Moulin Rouge he'll sup, He'll drink oceans of champagne, He'll smash the plates and glasses, And rot, and rot!
5 At Mabille he'll dance Till he strips off his coat, His yellow gloves he'll soil, He'll rot, he'll rot!
6 He'll dent his top hat, He'll tear his shirt, Then roll about on the ground, And rot, and rot!
7 He'll cause a great scandal, Conduct himself shamefully, And end by getting drunk. He'll rot, he'll rot!
8 The police will punish him, Clap him in the jug, Where he'll spend the night, And rot, and rot!
9 When he gets out He'll start again — worse than before — He'll gamble at the club and lose, And rot, and rot!
10 Having lost everything, he'll weep, He'll tear his hair, He'll regret Andriot! But rot, but rot!
11 Then he'll put on his Greek cap, Present himself at Gioia's, And confess he is penniless, And rot, and rot!
12 He'll beg for love, But the beauty will turn him out, For he'll have nothing to pay with, And rot, and rot!
[Crossed out: 13: To Nice he'll return, He'll put on his white coat, He'll come down from the château, And rot, and rot!]
14 [corrected to 18]: He'll assure you he is reformed, He'll spin you a thousand tales, He'll dupe you like an old fool, And rot, and rot!
15 [corrected to 19]: He'll dine with Saetone, He'll show himself at the theatre, He'll cast his burning glances, But rot, but rot!
16 [corrected to 20]: He'll take singing lessons, But never recover his voice, He'll cough and he'll bellow, And rot, and rot!
17 [corrected to 29]: He'll squander every last asset, He'll sell his pretty château, He'll even mortgage you, And rot, and rot!
18 [corrected to 30]: He'll scrape together the wreckage, He'll spend it all again, He'll have one last brilliant day, And rot, and rot!
19 [corrected to 31]: He'll borrow from his friends, He'll never pay a sou back, He'll swallow your last pennies, And rot and rot!
20 At last he'll repent, He'll take up the trade again, He'll measure cloth behind the counter, But rot, but rot!
21 He'll never reform himself, He'll turn the shop upside down, He'll set the clerks in revolt, And rot, and rot!
22 He'll grow indignant at the trade, He'll remember the good old days, And finally he'll escape, And rot, and rot!
23 His uncle will spit on him, He'll call him a scoundrel, And then he'll curse him, He'll rot, he'll rot!
24 Then he'll come to a halt, He'll pull down his Greek cap, He'll look all around him, And rot and rot!
25 [Crossed out: He'll start running again, He'll be driven out by his wife, Finally he'll marry, He'll draw on his wife as he did on you, And she'll change him, And rot and rot!]
26 Like a dark dough he'll wander, He'll keel over and spin around, For rotting is his destiny, And rot and rot!
That is what today has produced. Out walking, I stopped in at Nina's, who gave me Olga for the whole day.
We change our dress, stretch out in two large armchairs, a pitcher of iced lemonade beside us and a book before us — but we do not read very much.
I try to get her talking, but as it's the first time I don't know how to go about it.
From time to time we go out into the corridor and I put the opera-glasses into her hands; she looks, and her pleasure gives me pleasure.
Suddenly I see coming down from the lane that leads up to the château a hackney carriage containing two men, one of them in white and a small hat.
I tell Olga this; we change our dress and go out onto the terrace, where I compose the magnificent prophecy.
We wait in vain for the man in white. I was no doubt mistaken.
In the evening we read Isabelle de Bavière — how could one possibly read anything else with a girl like Olga! — and finally, after one last attempt to draw her out, I let her go, firmly resolved to try again.
As long as I didn't speak of Him the conversation languished — but what cries, what bursts of laughter when I did!
Together we write: Thrice ill-fated Father, etc., with exclamation marks, with horns, ornamented with fantastic drawings — one had only to look at that strange paper to be unable to keep a straight face. I walked her along the Promenade that evening, past Gioia's house; I called old d'Audiffret "papa"; I did everything I could — but she holds firm.
I know that she loves him, but I want her to say so herself.
Apart from Girofla there is neither gaiety nor amusement between us.
Curious.
And now that this subject is banished, almost forbidden, we seek it out all the more.
Our new cook feeds us divinely, and I am in the best of humours.
I cannot write two words this evening.

Notes

Bal Mabille — famous outdoor dance garden on the Avenue Montaigne in Paris, associated with the demi-monde; operating until the early 1880s. ↩
Isabelle de Bavière — historical romance by Alexandre Dumas (1835), about Isabel of Bavaria, Queen of France. A natural choice given Olga's infatuation and the running theme of Bavaria through the entry. ↩