Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 25 December 1875

#### Ah! son felice, ah! son rapita!
Find me a language that expresses things with as much enthusiasm! — which is why I use it to define my state.
No doubt you expect some event with the Surprising One, from this opening. I barely glimpsed him — and from afar. It was the others who... well, there it is.
The weather is heavenly — everyone is outdoors. Despite my vigil of last night I am pretty. I walk with Collignon; en route, Winslow joins us and presents his friend — I know not who — who was burning, and so on. Gonzales stops me, tells me I am beautiful; I reply that he is amiable.
"I should very much like to walk with you," he says, "but you are with these gentlemen."
"That will be for another time," I say.
Then I encounter d'Aspremont with two charming Italians — one of them is the one with Hamilton-like eyes.
I take the carriage and Maman tells me she saw Saetone and Gonzales — and that Gonzales said so many fine things about me, he and his friend Mulinar, that she did not know how to thank them.
Manara has been looking at me very intently for some days. While we are stopped before the public garden with Varpahovsky, Mme Sapogenikoff, Antonoff, Bihovetz, Yourkoff, and Walitsky, Manara buys a whole bundle of balloons and launches them. I am so enchanted by this that it is like sugar. These foolish things please me more than I can say.
I walk along, enchanted, happy, singing Mignon a mezza voce — and everything seems beautiful to me. Everyone looks at me with such an amiable air; those who know me bow more than usual; those who do not know me almost bow. I want to embrace them all!
Ah! How well we are in Nice! I do not want to leave!
I want to enjoy myself! I want to call everyone to my house, give a dinner, a ball, a supper, a soirée — to make a diabolical carnival!
Ah! How well we are in Nice! Ah! my God!
And whom do I see! My old passion, Boreel! He looks at me — my white dress produces its effect. I do not look at him.
I want Saint-Clair, Boreel, the two Italians, d'Aspremont — all, all of them!
Ah! How I shall enjoy myself in time! What foolish things I shall do! And it will be easy for me — I have a whole family as accomplice; I shall be able to do anything.
I want to enjoy myself — it seems to me the world is mine! Ah! How well we are in Nice!
My God — work a miracle! I do not deserve it, I know — but...
But you will never understand how enchanted I am! I do not touch the earth!
Oh! How I should like to gather everyone at my house! Ah! How well we are in Nice — Nice that I adore on my knees, Nice that does not want me! My city that repels me!
Damned city, adored — mine.
Bihovetz, Varpahovsky, and my Graces dine here. Ah! I want everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone! God, God — grant this. I am not bad at heart — I am only a little mad.
#### Ah! son felice, oh! son rapita! Dio, Vergine santissima!
Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ah! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ai! Ai! Ai! Ai! Ai!
I am done for! And the worst is that I cannot blame anyone. It is you — rash girl!
We go to the Opera.
Maman with my Graces in the third box on the first tier; I, my aunt, and Dina in the second box on the second tier, next to the Surprising One. I feel embarrassed — it seems to me this stupid personage is displeased about it. Belle-de-Jour is with him. The Surprising One does not look at me at all — he turns away in an almost impolite fashion.
From enchanted I become mad — I cannot remain still for an instant; I laugh.
Tournon arrives — and, unlike the blasted Nice man, is very charming.
We talk almost the whole time. Our neighbours on the right are my two Italians — they look at me and speak Italian to each other; and I, having let them talk long enough, spoke Italian to Dina as well — and they fell silent at once.
Bihovetz is with us. I said something naïve to Tournon — without meaning to.
"I wanted to come to your box," he says, "but it is full."
"That makes no difference," I replied; "come all the same — I greatly like it when there is a crowd."
The door opens — and the Surprising One appears.
"Well," I say, "are you celebrating Christmas?"
"Why no — I am not doing anything."
"How, nothing — one sends presents, one receives them, one enjoys oneself."
"Ah! yes — would you believe, I received a pair of slippers this big."
"Slippers?"
"Yes indeed — mine happened to be so worn out that it was most opportune."
"No — you are making that up?"
"But I assure you — and an anonymous letter, which was not signed."
"That is very natural — anonymous letters are never signed."
"Why — here I go saying something foolish: there is: Little Father Christmas has found little Émile very well-behaved, and hopes this will continue!"
"Ah! Ha! Ha!"
"Yes — and guess what was in the slippers; I give you a hundred guesses."
"A pair of gloves?"
"No — a thousand guesses."
"Let us see — a cravat?"
"No."
"Cufflinks?"
"No."
"Then," said Dina, "braces?"
"No — a jumping-jack, a jumping-jack!"
"Oh! Really!"
"Yes — and I am sorry to say it does not go squeak-squeak."
"Complain then! — one sends you Christmas gifts and you are displeased!"
"And," he continued, "only one slipper was filled, while the other was quite empty — that is not right."
My dear Émile — I do not let myself be caught so easily. You wanted me to cry out: No, the other was filled as well! I understood your trap, Bibi of my soul! — and I say simply:
"You are too demanding — a jumping-jack is quite sufficient."
"And the same day," he continued — "the same day I received a letter — a visiting card: The Sisters of the Good Shepherd. P.P.C."
The whole box burst out laughing.
"What does P.P.C. mean?" I asked.
"Pour prendre congé — to take leave."
"Ah yes — so it does."
"But lately I have been receiving a great quantity of them — the other day again, a cut-out king pierced with an arrow!"
"Impossible."
The whole box was laughing uproariously — I too — but I could see plainly that the man was furious and suspected everything.
It is dreadful!
Let one recall only the most minor of the letters I have sent!
"It is someone who wanted to do something very witty," continued the man, "in sending me these slippers — but I understood nothing. Oh! — but I am receiving a great quantity of things, and it is beginning to annoy me," he added, seriously.
"You are very fortunate to receive things — I receive nothing at all."
"I shall send you the slippers."
"Ah! — if you say they are this big, what do you expect me to do with them?"
"It makes no difference — I shall send it all back to you."
"And what do you expect me to do with it?"
Bigre! Bigre! Bigre! This is fine indeed. I am done for.
There it is — there it is — what more can I say? There it is — and there it is.
He is furious and heartily detests me — I return the compliment.
As soon as he entered our box and had bowed to me, I began talking with the Comte — and only a few minutes later began the charming conversation one has just read.
Why did he suspect? No matter — it is very shameful: a young lady who does such things.
Pepino comes; Galula comes. I laugh like a madwoman and inform everyone that I have been in an impossible state since this morning.
To my great surprise I see the Surprising One enter our annex.
As I was told afterwards, I know the slippers were discussed. Scarcely had he entered when Olga said:
"Well — have you received any Christmas gifts?"
She could not have served me better. Then she bit into a sweet; he asked for some; and they ate it between them. That is something that makes me furious.
The music of Mignon produces its effect — I am moved, in love, and mad. Tournon gives me his arm and we go out together.
"Monday at your house?" he asked me.
"Yes — Monday, since we leave on Tuesday."
"You are leaving? It is decided?"
"So it appears."
"For Rome?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry for it," he said softly, "with all my heart."
"I too am sorry to leave."
I posed the whole time for this gentleman — and properly, perhaps a little too much; I fear he may have noticed.
Below, the Surprising One cannot prevent his face from expressing astonishment on seeing me on Tournon's arm. We enter the salon. Audiffret also — a second later.
"Tournon," he says, "where is Bergerault — what have you done with Bergerault?"
"I do not know — he was descending with us," replied the Comte.
And the Nice man hesitated, remained another minute, then went off to watch those leaving.
"I truly do not know what is the matter with me this evening," I say — "I am behaving like a madwoman."
"You must be locked up," says my aunt — "we shall take you to the theatre no more."
"You are moved," says Tournon.
"Why yes — the music of Mignon has a strange effect on me; and then each time I imagine that Mignon is me — you understand what emotion that is. Ah!" I resumed — "I shall not be able to sleep."
"You write?" asked Tournon.
"No — I shall sing Mignon."
I am truly like a madwoman! Once in the carriage I do not restrain myself before the general and behave like an eccentric or a baby.
We gather at Maman's and tell each other everything.
Now — one must not lose one's head; the day after tomorrow one must send a "Tu pourriras"! — and from the day after tomorrow, every day. Once I am gone, Walitsky will take charge of it.
"My dear," I say to Dina, "do not venture into diplomacy — by your naïvetés you thought to cover things up and you prevented me from saying what needed to be said. He knows everything."
Ah! — you see, filth always floats to the surface.
It appears that on learning of our departure, the Surprising One has invited himself — and they will all come on Monday.
Listen — if he knows it is I, I have nothing left but to hang myself. It is dreadful, dreadful, dreadful!
And I alone am guilty — no way of blaming anyone.
But why did he guess? No matter. I am lost in his eyes — he detests me and despises me — and he is right.
The sweet comes back to my mind and makes me furious. The Surprising One knows everything.
It serves him right — he should not have gone there!
Georges Dandin — you wanted it!
Ah! Naughty Biou!
I must clear myself. And if he does not come on Monday?
I could see plainly from his manner and in his eyes that he knows everything. He is furious with me. I prefer anything to simple indifference.
No — it is vile. Ah! — once, so be it.
I am nonetheless enchanted, exhilarated, beside myself — I do not know why — since this morning.
Tournon's manner towards me pleases me — he is serious, penetrating, very amiable.
There is something like... I do not know how to say it — each thing he says seems said softly, seriously. Does he throw words into the air? I do not think so.
At Maman's I speak only of him — but in Audiffret's voice.
I am teased about that last scamp. My aunt with her lively imagination sees him jealous, furious. Furious — yes; jealous — no.
That is a pity.
"Monsieur d'Audiffret spits on me," I say. "Very well."
"You see!" says Maman.
"I was very vexed," she says a moment later — "it seemed to me that when you entered, Audiffret — that Shaved Magpie — made a grimace of impatience, then spoke to Desforges; and Desforges looked you over and did not seem very satisfied."
"What do I care!"
"What do you care!" cried my aunt — "you do everything for that scamp."
"Bah!"
"Your bed is pretty," I say to Maman — "but mine will be even better."
"Yes," says my aunt, "and in that shell will sleep the Shaved Magpie."
"No cynical jokes!" I say, imitating a phrase from Vaudeville — laughing.
"Yes," says Maman, "lying in a striped dressing-gown."
"Faugh! Madame!"
And who knows?
Ah! — yes indeed, he thinks of me now — after my letters.
No — but what a fine opinion he must have of me! Ah! Bigre de bigre!
You wanted it — get yourself out of it. I never wanted to be discovered.
Pretty — very pretty, what he thinks of me.
An angel clothed in white — fair and white — a divine voice — a pretty foot — and to do such filthy things!
One must try to put it right.
On Monday I shall speak — Dina will no longer meddle in it.

Notes

"Ah! son felice, ah! son rapita!" (Italian): "Ah! I am happy, ah! I am transported/enraptured!" — a phrase from Italian opera (possibly Il Barbiere di Siviglia or a similar work); Marie uses it as an epigraph to convey her state of exaltation on Christmas Day. In Italian in the original. ↩
a mezza voce (Italian): at half voice, softly — a musical term; in Italian in the original. ↩
Boreel: an acquaintance from an earlier season in Nice, whom Marie had once admired; by this point a "vieille passion" — an old passion, already superseded. ↩
"Ah! son felice, oh! son rapita! Dio, Vergine santissima!" (Italian): "Ah! I am happy, oh! I am transported! God, most holy Virgin!" — the exaltation escalating to the sacred. In Italian in the original. ↩
Done for (Je suis flambée): slang for "I am ruined" or "I am found out" — Marie has realised that Audiffret knows the Christmas prank was from her. ↩
Bigre!: a mild French oath (from bougre, a stronger expletive); kept in French as Marie's characteristic exclamation. ↩
Our annex (notre succursale): the second box occupied by Maman and the Graces — Marie uses a business term ("branch office") to describe the family's divided seating. ↩
The general: presumably W (Walitsky) in his role as the family's general factotum; or possibly a military acquaintance present in the carriage. ↩
Tu pourriras: "You will rot!" — the threatening message Marie has been planning to send Audiffret anonymously; see the earlier December entries where the campaign is devised. ↩
Georges Dandin, tu l'as voulu!: a celebrated line from Molière's comedy Georges Dandin (1668) — the cuckolded husband repeatedly says "Tu l'as voulu, Georges Dandin" (You wanted it, Georges Dandin), meaning: you brought this on yourself. Marie applies it to herself with rueful self-irony. ↩
Vaudeville (Vaudeville): a genre of light comic French theatre; Marie mimics a stock theatrical phrase to deflect the suggestive teasing. ↩