Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 24 December 1875

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Bihovetz was with us yesterday; by various things in his conversation he awoke in me such regret at leaving, such love for Nice, that I became utterly unhappy — and went home to sing, with such conviction, such warmth, and such profound sadness that I weep still over it — that eternal melody and those ravishing words: “Alas! Could I return to those beloved shores, were it but for one day to love and to die.”
How I pity those who are not like me — they do not understand what beauty, sadness, and truth there is in this piece so common and so sung in every salon.
Yes — “there alone to stay” — there alone, that is to say here, in Nice, in my beloved city.
One may travel the whole world and find sublime landscapes, arresting mountains, frightening ravines, wild and extraordinary beauties, picturesque cities, pretty cities, great cities — but on returning to Nice one says: there it was beautiful, there it was magnificent — but here it is pleasant, it is charming, it is gracious, it is congenial; here one wants to stay; here one is alone and surrounded, hidden and in view, as one wishes. Nowhere else does one breathe as freely, as joyfully. Nowhere else has one this extraordinary mixture of the real and the false, the simple and the refined. In short — how shall I say it? Nice is my city. I am leaving — but I shall return;
“Depart — but regret; regret has its charms” — as one of those kind simpletons called poets has said.
I walked a great deal today — in the morning with Collignon and in the afternoon. In the afternoon on the pavement.
“Let us cross now,” says Collignon.
And scarcely had we crossed when the Surprising One and Belle-de-Jour greeted me from the other side. How stupid — if we had not crossed, those two creatures might perhaps have joined us and I should have had a very pleasant walk.
Tomorrow is Christmas, and Collignon and I together devise a piece of foolery. We buy a pair of enormous slippers, a jumping-jack, a jockey, reindeer to drive (for children), and two little sheep; we put all this in the slippers, make a parcel, and under the string place a letter reading thus:
Little Father Christmas has found little Émile very well-behaved, and hopes this will continue.
The toys are for little Mimile; the slippers are for little Papa. 1875.
And on the envelope — one can guess what.
But we do not send this to the Tower. Dina disguises herself as a boy, and with her blue spectacles and pale complexion she looks like a mathematics professor; Collignon and I make ourselves equally unrecognisable — and at eight o’clock in the evening we go on foot to the carriage rank, take one, and go to the Cercle de la Méditerranée; we give the parcel to the coachman: “Give that to the Cercle’s concierge, from M. Tavernier.”
We laugh over it as in the good old days.
What amuses me most is seeing a serious woman do foolish things with me. This morning we had a visit from Soeur Thérèse, and she left us two visiting cards: The Sisters of the Good Shepherd.
I take one, add at the bottom P.P.C. — and with an address written by Walitsky, send it to the Tower.
Wretched Émile! You do not deserve so much kindness, upon my word!
My mothers are at Monaco — and at midnight I place myself before two mirrors set so as to form a long corridor, and having made the sign of the cross, eyes fixed on a single point, I await some apparition.
I remained an hour and a half and saw nothing. It is more than tedious.
At New Year I shall try again. I must see something. They say that the man one sees is one’s future husband.

Notes

In Italian in the original: Ohimè ! potessi io ritornare a quelle amate sponde, anche per undijamor e morir. (the source has undijamor, evidently un dì amar). ↩
In Italian in the original: Là solo restare — from the same aria; Marie applies the phrase to Nice. ↩
“Regret has its charms” (Le regret a ses charmes): an unidentified verse quotation; Marie cites it with affectionate condescension towards poets. ↩
Christmas (la Noël): December 25 in the Western calendar; Marie prepares a Christmas prank for Audiffret. ↩
Mimile: a childish diminutive of Émile (Audiffret’s first name) per LAN — the prank casts Audiffret as both a naughty child and, via “petit Papa,” a grown man being mocked. ↩
A serious woman: Collignon, who is apparently older and more decorous than Marie. ↩
Soeur Thérèse: a nun of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd (les religieuses du Bon Pasteur), a congregation engaged in charitable work. ↩
P.P.C. (Pour Prendre Congé): a formal visiting-card notation meaning “To Take Leave” — used when departing from a city to inform one’s acquaintances; here written on a nun’s card sent to Audiffret. ↩
Mirror divination: a traditional Russian and European folk ritual performed at Christmas and New Year — standing between two mirrors at midnight, one looks for the apparition of one’s future husband in the reflected corridor. See also the New Year repetition announced below. ↩