Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Monday, 25 October 1875

I go out late and see no one; as on almost every other day we stop in at the Sapogenikoffs' before going home. Giroflé and I speak again of a little project we are about to put into execution.
All the windows of the castle are lit up. [Crossed out: it is for (illegible)]. This illumination made me raise my eyes toward the tower surmounted by a magnificent flag — otherwise I no longer look at it, and if people did not speak of him quite so much at home, both the castle and the man would cease to exist for me.
I am merry, but my merriness goes out in a family evening.
The splendour of Prince Milan of Serbia's wedding with Kechko has barely upset me — this surprises me. If ever I were to be envious, this would be the occasion to envy that girl — my social equal, and now a queen, as if by a wave of a magic wand, as in a fairy tale!
The reading of Le Figaro finished, the conversation falls back into Girofla.
"I really do wish both sides would put an end to their caprices and marry," says Maman — in jest, no doubt.
"There are no caprices," says Bibi-me, "only perfect indifference on both sides."
My dear mother is in high spirits; she tells us stories about me, Olga, Bibi, Saëtone, Fiouloulou — and we laugh.
Truly the boy is indifferent to me today. I really couldn't care less. But to reconstruct my honour before the whole areopagus, I pray to God as I prayed in Baden-Baden — and He gave me what I asked for then.