Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 20 April 1876

[Written across the page: And the proof that this Antonelli meant nothing to me at all is that the moment I speak of him I express myself so stupidly and it all sounds forced and absurd!
For my lamentations might lead one to suppose that I loved him — and that is what infuriates me.]
- 1 Belmonte
- 2 Pandola
- 3 Odescalchi
- 4 Pizzardi
- 5 Zucchini
- 6 Cesaro
- 7 Antonelli
- 8 Angelini
The races! The horses of the Comte de Larderei interest me in advance. Without having the least notion of the man, I feel quite capable of taking an interest in him. I have never set eyes on him but he interests me.
[In the margin: Remember these lines in connection with Larderei.]
We set off at one o'clock in the great heat. Paris cannot boast of being more brilliant than Naples. Thanks to Altamura we are placed in the finest spot, near the weighing enclosure and the grandstand. Such a multitude of equipages drawn by four horses, with long reins, with postilions, outriders in powdered wigs, all in full livery — it beggars the imagination! Seeing this parade, these plumed horses and these footmen in full livery, one feels transported back to the good old days.
There are a dozen of those great carriages where one sits on the roof, drawn by four horses, all of them driven by princes and filled with dukes and counts. They call the Neapolitans poor — well enough, I am willing to be called poor and keep such an establishment: no money, and eight horses, and four carriages, and footmen, and all the devils of hell! I should like to learn to live in that style on little money.
I was already beginning to feel that numbness that always comes over me in the middle of a great crowd in summer, when Altamura arrived, all in a sweat — he is a member of the racing club and presides over the weighing enclosure.
He asks permission to introduce to us Baron de Saint-Joseph — I do not know whether I have ever mentioned this gentleman, who has been in Rome and is a member of the Caccia-Club, of the barcaccia set, and a friend of Torlonia's and Pietro's.
We are served a charming luncheon and good cold wines, but Saint-Joseph is not selfish — he asks permission to bring his dear Clément along and brings him... not drunk!
I barely heard what the baron said to me about his intimate friend Antonelli, who is so changed, who no longer shows himself — what can be the matter with him? I replied that I really had no idea. I say I barely heard because I was sitting up on the box with my feet resting near Dina's back, and from my elevation I surveyed the field, the horses, and society. Torlonia, practical man that he is, climbs up on the wheel and plants himself beside me. He must be in the process of forcing himself to fall in love with the Mechtchersky, for he speaks of poetry, melancholy, and flowers. The heat and the beggars were insupportable — in no country in the world are there so many; they file past you like an endless procession.
- Oh! how tiresome they are! I said at last — it is not very elegant, Monsieur, what I have just said, but when one is thoroughly, thoroughly bored one cannot find another word to express it.
- Quite true; when I bore you very, very greatly, you will say the same to me, — said Torlonia, no doubt hoping I would respond with protests.
- Very well, I said — for the moment you do not bore me, but when you do I shall tell you so.
- No, but listen, he interrupted — I did not bore you in Rome, did I?
- Quite the contrary.
- You understand perfectly in what sense I use the word bore?
- Perfectly!
- What flowers do you prefer? asked the young drunkard after a little while.
- Roses.
- No — lily of the valley; I know someone who has worn them for three weeks in your honour, he added, handing me a bunch of lily of the valley, then immediately offering flowers to Maman and to Dina as well.
- I am dazzled by the sun — and by your beauty, Mademoiselle.
- Will you have some oysters?
- No thank you — I am thirsty.
- Then let us drink!
And we each drank a glass of white wine and a bowl of champagne; then he drank more white wine, and champagne was offered to him again in my honour.
- I am in excellent health, I said.
- Quite true — I might bring you ill luck.
- You are right, Monsieur — do not drink.
And I burst out laughing. Do not imagine that I take Don Clemente's words seriously — I take them for what they are, rest assured; and besides, I know how to conduct myself with a great deal of dignity without the least affectation.
This Saint-Joseph — a name equally celebrated in the Old and New Testaments — this Saint-Joseph, I say, strikes me as a friend of ten years' standing, and I welcomed him with a very pretty smile and nod.
I paid little attention to the races so long as they were there — Altamura, Saint-Joseph, and Torlonia. Torlonia proves to be exactly as I had judged him. He will neither wait nor obey. Besides, his beard alone is enough for one to divine it. He has wit; he is a little conceited perhaps — but who is not at four-and-twenty? And then it suits him.
When they had gone and we were again by ourselves as a family, I sat down and looked at nothing in particular — besides, the numbness had vanished, and for the first time in my life perhaps I felt genuinely gay at the races.
But I was looking forward to seeing Larderei, of whom I have been thinking for the past two days. He was to ride in the last race — the gentlemen riders. For this race Altamura comes to escort us to the grandstand. I go with him, and Dina with Walitsky. Maman stays in the carriage.
The beautiful Princess Muliterno, all in white, is in a very decided flirtation with Prince Odescalchi, who is said to be her fiancé. How adorable a weighing enclosure grandstand is! On one side the field, on another the paddock where the horses are led and prepared.
I had been backing Larderei the whole time and waited with impatience for his appearance on the course. He appeared at last, in white satin striped with green and black breeches. I took Altamura's opera-glasses and examined him.

Notes

The diary frontmatter lists "Paris" as location but the entry clearly describes the Naples races; likely a metadata error. ↩
The Hunt Club — an exclusive gentlemen's club in Rome. ↩
The Barcaccia fountain in Piazza di Spagna, a fashionable gathering-place. ↩
Gentlemen riders — in English in the original. Amateur riders from aristocratic families who race for sport, not money. ↩
Flirtation — in English in the original. ↩