Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 16 January 1876

Today, at a quarter past ten, the two monks of Cimiez will present themselves at the Tower. I should like to see the Surprising One's face.
We were late for church and went to Saint Peter's. The first monument I would not wish to alter in any respect — the only one I do not criticise, for if I had a church to build I could not do better myself.
I feel I shall write badly, for I have just been reading my old diary. Maman had asked me to read her the Girofla period — I skipped a great many things as I went; what seems quite simple written down appears not simple when read aloud. My face went hot, my fingers cold, and I ended by declaring I could not continue.
— She will read it to us in two years, says Maman.
[One line cancelled: After Saint Peter's we, I and Maman, go] At Saint Peter's there were two imbecile Americans following me and saying to each other "she is very beautiful". I pretended not to understand.
I had intended to go only to the Russian church and had dressed in white — which made me as conspicuous as a white wolf.
After Saint Peter's, Maman calls on Baron Ixhull, the minister's cousin — she made his acquaintance and his wife's at the minister's wife's, or ambassadress's. I go with Maman. These people are very unpretentious and very amiable — the Baron especially pleased me. They live at Via Condotti 81. They say that being presented at court is not very difficult, and that they will speak about it to the ambassadress, as it is done through her and the Marquise de Monterreno, lady-in-waiting to Princess Margherita.
God — if I could be presented! Formerly the Princess received in private audience, but now many people are presented together — it forms a kind of court.
It makes no difference to me — [Words cancelled: Ah! If I could be presented] I desire enormously to be presented, to go to a court ball. Regis venit lux. I adore kings — and queens too. But see what a creature I am!
I prefer kings because a woman can reign above them. I feel a kind of vexation when I see queens.
At the Pincio a crowd such as is seen in Nice only on race day — if that.
The Corso and the Piazza Colonna were flooded with carriages and people on the return from the Pincio.
At the Pincio the carriages moved at a walking pace between two dense rows of men. I was looked at a great deal; I scarcely looked in return — and besides it is rather difficult to distinguish the good from the bad among these Italians: they are all common, they all have black moustaches and fine eyes, coarse features, a sallow complexion.
The man I had taken for the Devil is not the Devil! He is merely an Italian who resembles him to a remarkable degree.
The true Devil, Sir Frederic Johnstone, is in Nice at present. The one here greatly resembles him — but the other is much finer; the other is altogether excellent; I was in love with the other. This one recalled the other to me and my imbecile of a heart began to beat. For he is truly beautiful — the beautiful, the admirable Frederic. There is who I should need. Come now — let us think no more of it.
We dine at the table d'hôte because the son of the Grand Duke of Baden dines there. There is a fairly pleasant company, and the Duke is a reasonably pleasant young man — for a duke.
I have long had the idea of going next summer to Spa. This idea was given me by Foster, who asks me by letter to persuade Maman to go there, and that "we would be quite a nice little party."
But Spa has become the resort of the Nice set — Prodgers, Sabatier, etc. There is both the charm and the inconvenience of the thing. Let us try it all the same — the Fosters know Prodgers; a rapprochement might be achieved. Let us try — and above all let us not martyr ourselves in advance.
This idea of going to Spa occupies me enormously — I have spoken of it to Maman. I would go to Spa after having been in Russia, and from Russia I shall bring back a beautiful white horse. [Word blacked out: Since] All ancient conquerors and all the victors of the Middle Ages had white horses.
When I think of it, I find Spa adorable. These walks, these picnics, these rides, these excursions into the grottos — it is picturesque, charming, and convenient.
One can amuse oneself there like mad. The other summer, how we enjoyed ourselves — and we did nothing to bring it about, sought no one's company, and I was not yet fifteen and was more foolish than now.
The idea of going to Spa transports me — as I fall asleep I shall compose some future story set at Spa.
But my anxiety is great. What is happening at Nice? What is the Surprising One doing? Let him not do anything foolish!
God, how anxious I am — so anxious that I can barely write; I hurry, I know not why.

Notes

"She is very beautiful" — in English in the original. ↩
"Comme un loup blanc" — a French idiom for being extremely conspicuous: as visible and rare as a white wolf. ↩
Regis venit lux (Latin): "The light of the king comes" — a quasi-religious invocation of royal presence. ↩
"Le Diable" (the Devil) — Marie's nickname for Sir Frederic Johnstone, a dashing English acquaintance whom she had admired earlier. ↩
Spa: the Belgian resort town, fashionable among European aristocracy; its name gave rise to the English word "spa." ↩
"We would be quite a nice little party" — in English in the original. ↩
Pique-niques: the word was borrowed from English into French in the 18th century; LAN notes its English origin here. ↩