# Monday, 18 December 1876

Yesterday I was woken by a card from my father bearing these words:

“I am at the Hôtel du Luxembourg with my sisters. Come at once if you can.”

On the advice of my mothers¹, at exactly one o’clock I present myself in answer to this invitation, and before entering send in to ask whether it is proper².

By way of reply, Hélène and my wretched father come down to the carriage and lead me most tenderly indoors.

The aunts Hélène and the Hunchback, who meddle in nothing, speak to me of the cardinal and advise me to go to Rome and fetch his nephew — and his crowns.³

— The poor boy, I say, he is over there.

— Where?

— In Serbia.

— Really!

— Alas.

But no — he is in Rome.

— Perhaps he has returned, for there is no more fighting, and yesterday I dined with a Russian volunteer just arrived from Serbia.

— That may be. I say he is in Rome because I read in the newspaper the account of the opening of the Skating-ring in Rome, where it was said that “the two Counts Antonelli were present.”

— That is possible too.

There is a skating rink in Rome!

Then the talk turned to the Tutcheff woman; I spoke of her in the harshest terms, threatening that scoundrel with a lawsuit for defamation.

— Let them attack my family, my mother — they can defend themselves! But let no one touch me, for as truly as I am a defenceless creature whom it is cowardly to slander, I shall avenge myself bravely! And for an excellent reason: because I am afraid of nothing.

That is only too true. I am afraid of nothing, for I cannot be worse off than I am.

I see that Maman has made an impression.

Having spoken again of indifferent matters, I invited my father to take a walk with me. Then the Little Russian dialogue began again.⁴

— Were we walking along the same road?
— We were walking.

— Did we find a fur coat?

— We found it.

— You took it?

— I took it.

— Where is it, then?

— What?

— The fur coat.

— What fur coat?

Etc.

And I was thinking of Rome, where I could go if only this monster were willing!!!

Meanwhile I was showing him off to the people of Nice, and while a thousand sorrows wrung my heart I smiled, bowing disdainfully to Audiffret and Bergerault.

What patience it took before I managed to bring him home, onto the terrace where Maman, my aunt, Dina, Collignon, Barnola and Walitsky were sitting.

To avenge myself for all that effort I called Mme Tutcheff, who was passing by, a “hussy”, and I was very insolent.

I showed him the house. Then we went to the Skating-rink, where he promised to come but did not. With Collignon to keep me in countenance, I went round the rink on her arm, and on meeting Fiouloulou I stopped. At that moment Girofla came gliding over to me with all his old dash.

— I bring you the order to skate, Mademoiselle!

— And from whom, Monsieur? I asked, blushing.

— From Madame your aunt — it is quite official, I beg you to believe it.

— You look so up in the air today that one is afraid to venture anywhere near you; you seem bent on knocking everybody over.

— Hem! hem! so you are skating?

— Later, when there is nobody about.

— Agreed.

I also asked him whether I looked like my father. Ah, but are we going to record all the twaddle one talks with Audiffret?

Pelikan is there; Princess Souvoroff is with Maman while I go and put on skates. My feet and my back earn me a great success. Oh! what of it!

While I was resting over there, far over there, Audiffret came to talk to me again.

Did I write those letters, yes or no?

I wanted to be with him as I am with the Lubimoffs, who were watching me from a distance with the whole family. Much chance of that!

— Can anyone skate with feet like these? said he, indicating mine with his chin.

— That is just what I say, Monsieur — they are far too small.

A year ago I would have answered with the most commonplace oh! Monsieur.

Maman has been worked up again by Mme Souvoroff and, with my complaints helping... Do you know what she did? She went to stop her husband dining with Mme Tutcheff — at Mme Tutcheff’s own house. Well, here is what happened, according to her account. First Eristoff tried to bar her way, but she pushed him aside and walked into a drawing room where Monsieur her husband was bent over a table, Mme Tutcheff standing by the window, pale, and the princess sitting down. Mme Tutcheff withdrew at once, and Maman, after remaining seated for some time because she could not stand, went out, taking her husband with her.

All three of us were silent, and we were already nearing the house when my father ordered the driver to go to London House. And as Maman made a gesture.

— Let us go, said I.

— We shall talk quietly, added my father.

Maman began to tell me the story and before she had finished had a fit of nervous tears, which I quite understand after such an adventure.

And then they began again to talk about the same thing; it would have gone on till morning if I had not said:

— Why all these evasions, these recriminations, these pinpricks, when the thing is so simple! I must be taken into society; Maman cannot do it, so it is up to you. Answer, Father — what have you to say?

— As for me, I added, I agree to everything in advance.

For the first time in his life this monster spoke honestly, simply. And even so, was this good disposition perhaps only a way of avoiding unpleasantness by dragging things out?

Well... perhaps... who knows?

We stayed there until nine o’clock, examining the situation seriously, like three good friends.

Ah? The trouble is that my father, having smoothed away every obstacle — in words — raised a terrible question.

— And what if, said he, everything I do should be in vain? Your position would only become the worse for it.

But as I answered that it could not be in vain, we took up our plans again. And first of all it is necessary to make peace, in a summary fashion, with the Tutcheff woman. That becomes almost easier after the scene at Monte-Carlo. Before, there was nothing to forget; there was an enmity, a coldness without cause — now there is something to forget.

It will be hard... and for my part I would... rather spit in her face, but it must be done. For this woman, my father’s sister, my aunt... one must at least appear to be on good terms with her, for the world’s sake.

So it will be Nice, then? Only to make them forget the past, to triumph, and then to leave... to leave... Ah! if one could write down the melody with the words, you would understand how the soul is gripped and how the heart tightens at the old Black man’s song in Paul and Virginia.⁵

The bird flies away, Far away, far away, And comes back no more. Ah! poor foolish one, Stay here at home, Believe in my song. The bird flies away, Far away, far away, the bird flies away And comes back no more. Faithful bird Whom God has blest, Faithful bird, Stay in your soft nest, Fold up your wing, You will sleep better Than under other skies. Faithful bird Whom God has blest, Faithful bird, Stay in your soft nest.

It is tender, it is charming... but it cannot apply to me. I have no home! I have no nest. And God does not bless me.

But after London House we went to the Opera, in hats, and I must say it produced a rather singular effect... on Audiffret, Galula, Belle-de-jour, Fontana and Chiris in the club box⁶.

O misery!

I am going mad with uncertainty. To wait on my father’s favours in Nice for a doubtful and fleeting triumph of no particular interest... Then Paris... and Rome.... and my studies!!! Oh!

In Paris I should be lost... to shine there one needs either a great name, or a great fortune, or great depravity... So I have nothing to do in Paris...

But in Rome... in Rome I could make a brilliant marriage, and then — and this is the main thing — I should live there in delight! And... I should so love to redeem myself in Rome, so much, so much!!

Let us begin with Nice.... if we do begin... But my studies! But the time that is passing! At eighteen I ought to have been painting great pictures!

Then... where to go? Oh! how deadly awkward this question is! I shall go to Paris only if my father will not take me to Rome... I would rather die than go to that divine city as I did before.

It is Nice that weighs on me... Another winter lost... indeed, how many have I lost?... two as a woman... three as a student... Infamy!

Yesterday I was so perplexed and so furious that I lay down fully dressed in the dining room and spent four hours there, half asleep, half in torment, waking every minute. Then I went to lie on the chaise longue in Maman’s room, and I did not get up until one in the afternoon; yet I was not asleep. Maman is ill... naturally, after yesterday...

My aunt, Dina, Walitsky and the Anitchkoffs are lunching with Wolf, whose name is Nicolas, and it is his name day today.⁷

M. Anitchkoff is also called Nicolas, so the name day is split in two, and they dine at his house after lunching at the other’s.

I was lying on Maman’s bed when one of the little Anitchkoff girls came to tell me that they absolutely wanted me; I answered that I was ill.

— Evening is coming, said Maman, and she needs someone to torment...

— Whom, then? You? Ah! you think I am here for your sake? Not at all! I came to see the dogs. Goodbye!

And in a temper I went off to my rooms, where they pursued me with a note in which they promised me everything for next year and begged me to go to the Anitchkoffs’.

I sent back word by mouth that I knew of a fair where there was a tavern with this sign: Today you pay, tomorrow you drink on credit, and the day after for nothing.

As for the Anitchkoffs, I wrote a letter on notepaper painted by Dachad, excusing myself on the grounds of a fever.

Véra, the little girl, saw me in a dressing gown with my head bandaged.

I am jealous!

Of Princess Margherita⁸... All the men who are not in love elsewhere are in love with her, and since she is a queen she is adored... Oh!

She will skate, she will show her big feet, they will go wild about her... And I!

— Oh! Princess Margherita, Antonelli used to say, raising his eyes and then making a little pout that seemed to say: there is a woman.

!!!!

Brute twice over! If she were not a queen... he would spit on her!