Thursday, 2 November 1876 (21 October)

crossed outLetters Nice
My father “quibbles” with me over everything. A hundred times I long to send everything to the devil, and a hundred times I hold myself back, which causes me unspeakable pain.
It took “a heap of fuss” to get him to Poltava by this evening. At the Assembly of the Nobility a piano-quartettist is giving a concert. I wanted to go so as to be seen, and there were endless petty obstacles. That fussy, mean and spiteful character murders one with pettiness.
It is not enough to have kept me shut up for three months, inviting no one but the herd of card-sharps, and, through this strange mania for hiding me and cutting me off from the rest of the universe (Poltava?), handing the gossip-hungry dogs a free feast.
Curiosity, for want of satisfaction, has passed into a state of mild discontent, and, for want of the truth, people have begun to suppose and to invent. It is not enough to have procured me not the slightest pleasure, to have driven away those who could have been my equals, to have turned a deaf ear to all my hints and even to my requests concerning a wretched amateur performance. It is not enough. And now, after three months of coaxing, of sweetness, of wit spent on him, of amiability, I obtain... strong opposition to my going to this miserable concert! That is not all; I got the better of this, but then there had to be a fuss over the choice of dress. He had to force a woollen gown on me, a walking costume.
How petty all this is, how unworthy of intelligent beings!
I did not absolutely need this gentleman; I had Nadine, Alexandre, Paul and Pacha; but I took him along out of caprice and to my great displeasure.
A gown of Oriental stuff, wool, silk and gold, striped crosswise, shaped like a biblical shift, cut square at the neck in the Oriental manner and gathered at the waist by an angular belt so that it could hang very low; red satin shoes and a necklace of three rows of pearls... false, but nobody knows it. Described, the outfit sounds outlandish, but on me it was only slightly piquant, and majestically simple and graceful. Nadine put on a superb black gown with lace embroidered in steel.
M. Bashkirtseff found me too beautiful, and that made another fuss: he was afraid I would look too different from the ladies of Poltava, and this time he begged me to dress otherwise, he who had asked me to dress like this in Kharkoff.
The result was a pair of mittens torn to shreds, furious eyes, a temper not of this world and... no change whatever in my attire.
We arrived halfway through the concert. I went in on the arm of that horrid man, head high and with the air of a woman certain of being admired. Nadine, Paul and Pacha followed. I walked past Mme Abaza without greeting her, and we took our places in the front row beside her.
I had called on Mlle Dietrich, who, now Mme Abaza, has not returned my visit. In my position one is punctilious; I bore myself with insolent assurance and did not greet her, for all her glances.
We were at once surrounded by Pavelko, Gedanoff and others. Abaza was introduced to me by Bashkirtseff. All the ninnies from the Club, which is in the same building, came into the hall “to have a look”.
One can tell a success of extravagance from a real one. I was rather proud, and I looked at the curs, my elbow propped on the arm of my chair, playing with my pearl necklace, which I nibbled so that people would believe my teeth did not suffer by the comparison.
The concert soon ended, and we left escorted by the wretched local cavaliers.
— Did you greet Mme Abaza? my father kept asking.
— No.
And upon that I delivered a tirade in which I advised him to despise others less and to look at himself first.
I stung him to the quick, so much so that he went back to the Club and returned to tell me that Abaza was calling on all the servants of the hotel to witness, and swore he had returned my visit the very next day with his niece.
Besides, Bashkirtseff was radiant; they had showered him with compliments about me.