Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 9 February 1876

Only yesterday morning could Maman find out Baron Visconti's address and send him Mme de Mouzay's letter — and at three o'clock, while I was wandering among the ruins of the Colosseum, he called on Maman, who found him entirely charming and very old.
We asked Rossi to find us a good balcony, and Maman immediately spoke of Mme de Reculât — and so clumsily that I said to her afterwards:
— You must not be such a crampon — when you speak, I am on hot coals. I would rather know no one at all.
And during the whole of the promenade I do not know what to do with myself for boredom and disgust. But at the Pincio there is a great turnout — the King, Doria and the pale Doria, and a quantity of others with carriages and horses the like of which I have never seen in Paris.
And Soroka with his Galula begins to follow us — but as no one was watching him, he urges his horses, strikes them, so that these two enormous beasts come up on our carriage, almost on Maman's head. I do not know why it is always she who is the victim in this kind of encounter, as at Nice with the Surprising One. Soroka must be very strong, for his horses were making the devil, and he kept them always at twenty centimetres from Maman's head — she was frightened, and I forbade her to turn round so as not to encourage that fool. But all at once Soroka turns right, stops, and [blacked-out words: the footman] jumps down.
I was still wondering what that meant when, passing the same spot again, [blacked-out words: I saw Soroka and his friend on] foot, with three men bustling around the carriage and harness. It was quickly repaired, and we had the pleasure of seeing them on the Corso. Maman went to Mme Soukowkine's; I return early — I am hoarse.
By some extraordinary circumstance we dined at the table d'hôte. It is detestable.
The weather is fine — the moon comes out, and we go out on the balcony to listen to a dreadful barrel organ accompanied by castanets.
Every time two men passed together, Dina and Lola cried: It is them!
But it was not they — they are very recognisable, and besides they always stop at the same spot. Around eight o'clock they came and had the joy of seeing three madwomen on the balcony — but Baron Visconti is announced and I am called to the salon, while Lola, seated on the floor and wrapped in furs, watches through the balusters of the balcony. Attributing our absence to the organ's departure, Soroka sends Galula to fetch back the harmonious instrument, which starts again beneath the balcony — but that attracted no one; so they went before the mysterious window, and Soroka to the right and Galula to the left of the organ began to sing in a low voice, accompanied by the machine and the castanets.
Meanwhile the rain begins again. Soroka was in shoes — the provident Galula alone had an umbrella.
I remained in the salon listening to Baron Visconti, who, though very old, is a man of the world with a still very supple mind. He advises calling on the ambassadress and paying no attention to Mme Soukowkine's counsel; the Russian Embassy is our natural protectress here, but from his side he will do everything to be agreeable. Only one must choose between the salons blancs — those of the Court — and the salons noirs, which have remained faithful to the Pope. Needless to say I choose the Court. Everyone knows this Visconti — he is an all-powerful vieux beau without the Pope, and very much sought after, very much liked now.
Maman has not called again on the Yxkulls, though they returned her visits. But she is seized by an absurd timidity — encouraged in this by Mme Soukowkine, who seems to wish us to remain in the shadows.
All of this bores me! It is painful to have to pray, to seek! It bores me! Ah yes, I am wretched from all of it!
Dina drives me to despair. She never stops going to the windows, opening the shutters — twenty times I close them; the Sorokas go away, and Dina makes the blinds tremble and they come back again. She has neither tact nor wit! She will ruin my Soroka for me! His shoes were so full of water that he had to empty them one after the other, standing on one foot, while the prudent Galula held the umbrella over him.
I do not understand these people. What do they want — what do they hope for?
What must those who see them enter the restaurant say — for they dine [blacked-out words: without changing], since they are absent barely three-quarters of an hour, seeing them come in soaked, mud-spattered, their top-hats battered by the hail!
Domenica asks "grace and mercy" for these wretched creatures.
— Have you then no compassion? she cries — close the shutters, let them go!
But Dina heeds nothing.
— How long, she continues, will you keep them here?
Quousque tandem, Catilina...
At last, I go to bed very hoarse.

Notes

Crampon: a clinging bore, a pest who cannot let go. ↩
Salons blancs / salons noirs: the political division in Roman society after Italian unification (1870). "White" salons supported the Italian monarchy; "black" salons remained loyal to the Pope, who refused to recognise the new Italian state. ↩
Vieux beau: an elderly man who still cultivates elegance and the society of women; an aging ladies' man. ↩
An allusion to the opening of Cicero's First Catilinarian Oration (63 BC): Quousque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? — "How long, O Catiline, will you abuse our patience?" Domenica delivers her ultimatum in mock-Ciceronian grandeur. ↩