Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 9 May 1876

The first anniversary of the founding of the Society A.T.E.
I am dying of sadness and tedium — no one understands me! Ah! if you could see my despondency you would take pity. At the concert Collignon came up to the carriage and proposed that I walk home with her; I accepted with indifference, as I do everything now.
— I miss Marie and Olga so much, Collignon said to me — they cheered me; they are so sweet, so fresh.
— Yes, it is true — and see, since they are gone I have fallen back into my torpor. When one is absorbed by a single dominating thought, one needs to be distracted, as I was with the Sapogenikoffs chatting about trifles; one needs to be shaken up — without that...
Maman went to Mme de Camprien's, and this lady told her that I had grown more beautiful and that it was the opinion of all who had seen me at church. It is true — I have grown a great deal and gained in colour and figure.
She also repeated the stupid fable of Yourkoff's love for Marie.
Will one believe it? By dint of hearing everyone say the same thing the idea comes to me that it may be partly true — that is, that Yourkoff had loved Marie, and knowing the impossibility of that attachment, had killed himself. As for the girl, on her side there was nothing. Besides, all this is foolish. But in this world everything that is not sad is foolish, and everything that is not foolish is sad.
It goes without saying that no telegram has been received. And when I think that at every ring of the bell, at every sealed envelope, I blushed and became all confused.
Mme de Ballore has invited us for this evening; she was so amiable in coming first that one must go. I go, then, with my mothers. There were only ladies present, and as for gentlemen — old M. de Ballore, old M. de Neujean with his wife, old Count di Clavesana, an Italian admiral — and that was all.
Mme de Ballore receives a perfectly respectable society, and her daughters — Mme de Quincy and above all Mme de Wykerslooth — are charming; but towards eleven o'clock I was so bored that I felt an irresistible desire to be outside, or to bang my forehead against the wall.
I went to supper in the pavilion; formerly it would have been in order to quarrel — but now I no longer even speak.
— I am sure, said Maman — as if in response to our silent indignation, or rather astonishment — I am sure that Nainer has gone and told Antonelli that we were already informed of the race date; that is why Antonelli has not telegraphed.
[Written across the page: poor Maman.]
I answered nothing and continued taking my tea. I could see well enough, even in Rome, what Antonelli was — and instead of dragging things out and daubing them over, I ought to have said this to him:
— My manner of conducting myself does not please you, Monsieur? I am sorry — but I shall not change it, and in that case the best thing you can do is to withdraw.
That would have been the true means of keeping him, had it been necessary. I ought to have seen that this sort of conversation was the most effective for everything — for at the station, bluntness and pride put him back in his place at once.
Pretend not to care about people — and they will cling to you. It is in human nature. My only regret now is not having spoken to Antonelli as a mistress speaks. I spoke simply, without bluster and without bluntness — and see what I got for it. Besides, I have verified this ten times over, in myself and in others.
Yes, I was wrong. I committed the error not out of ignorance but because I had confidence in the man and thought all bravado was useless. Now I see that whatever the confidence, one must always remain on one's pedestal and treat men from above downward. It is more prudent.
— Live a century and study a century, says a Russian proverb.
I am only seventeen.
It is not that I think Antonelli's love was influenced in one way or another by my manner of behaving — no, I do not think that; but I think it would have been better for my pride to keep always on the alert, and not to say a word that might prevent an honourable retreat, or even a skilful demonstration of contempt, in case the man were inclined towards defection.
What a great many calculations.
— Everything is calculated with you, Antonelli used to say to me.
(And how not to calculate when one has to deal with every sort of scoundrel.)
Instead of replying: Not at all, Monsieur — I ought to have said that I was astonished at his audacity in criticising me and coming to make such strange reproaches. But I took everything in confidence; I believed he loved me.
Well! I was about to forget to mention that I went to the Convent of the Good Shepherd to bring the portrait of the Pope, beautifully framed; and the Mother Superior opened her grille and embraced me three times. Then I stayed to talk with her about matters so serious and so religious that I came away in a daze. One would not believe me capable of holding forth on such subjects. Finally, the poor caged woman told me I was under the protection of the Virgin — because I was dressed in white.
Would to heaven it were so.
— General abandonment is a worse evil than death, for the young, Grand-papa said at dinner.
I sat as if struck by that phrase — and while Léonie was preparing my dress I remained with my head thrown back against the armchair, my eyes fixed on the Pompadour-pattern ceiling of my dressing-room. I would have very much preferred not to go to the evening party — but I had to; and besides, it spared me a fit of weeping. I am very unhappy now, though plunged in a sort of torpor that dulls all my sensations and makes me feel them only as one sees a light through a thick piece of cloth. And see! my hair will no longer curl, and I have become ugly.
Tomorrow at three o'clock I am going to Rome — as much to distract myself as to show contempt for Antonelli, if I find the opportunity.
I need that for my own peace. As for the kiss — I no longer weep over it; it gave me pleasure, and a pleasure so innocent truly does no harm. Besides, so much the worse for the men themselves — it is they who do not wish to have entirely pure women. All the same, I was calmer when I had nothing to reproach myself with. It is not my conscience that torments me but fear of gossip — and besides, what good is it to be irreproachable, since something will be invented all the same.
One must be quite stupefied to reread Twenty Years After.
Amen.

Notes

The Society A.T.E. — Marie's private society, whose regulations she recorded in the entry of 3 May 1876. The initials remain unexplained. Its founding date was 9 May 1875. ↩
Mes mères — "my mothers"; Marie's habitual term for both her mother and her aunt, who together formed her maternal household. ↩
Russian proverb: Vek zhivi, vek uchis' (Век живи, век учись) — "Live a century, learn a century"; equivalent to "one is never too old to learn." ↩
The Convent of the Good Shepherd (Bon Pasteur) — an order of nuns devoted to the rehabilitation of "fallen women" and orphans, with a house in Nice. ↩