It is today that I have something fine to recount.

It is today that I have something fine to recount.
In the morning nothing particular — Barnola and Broussais — and then I learn that Gambetta is in Nice and without hesitation I send him a letter worded as follows:
"Monsieur,
You will doubtless not be surprised that you have inspired in an intelligent person the most ardent desire to make your acquaintance and to converse with you; accordingly I shall await you tomorrow throughout the day at my home; Promenade des Anglais, 55 bis.
Please accept, Monsieur, the assurance of my profound esteem.
M. Bashkirtseff"
Esteem... that commits me to nothing — I esteem him at his worth and that is all.
[Detailed account of Pierret's slanders about their financial situation, discovered through Wolf via Anitchkoff via Walitsky...]
So here it is... this old news has added nothing to my torments: except the conviction that no one believes, or will ever believe, that I make light of those who have asked for my hand. Count Bruschetti, a wealthy man, and Count Antonelli, nephew of the Cardinal. Indeed, for someone who does not know me and who hears about me from people like M. Pierret, these refusals are incredible.
[...detailed self-justification about the Antonelli relationship...]
Well then, that matter is finished, explained, recounted. And let me say no more to myself about Antonelli. Enough.
But it suits me to see M. Pierret and to ask him what you shall see if I succeed in seeing him.
[Account of visiting Wolf to gather intelligence about Pierret]
Immediately I powdered my hair and dressed in the style of Catherine II.
Having found myself superb, I went down to dinner with Pelikan, and toward evening arrived Mme Zurmüllen — a ravishing ash-blonde with eyebrows dyed black and a complexion white as milk.
[Evening with powdered hair and Catherine II costume]
Here is another letter, written like the first in my firmest and most flowing hand.
"Monsieur,
The importance of what I have to tell you authorizes me, without having the honour of your acquaintance, to ask you to call on me tomorrow, Monday, between two and six o'clock, Promenade des Anglais 55 bis.
Please accept, Monsieur, my distinguished greetings.
Marie Bashkirtseff
address: Place du Jardin Public, No. 1. M. Pierret."

Monday, 8 January 1877

[No detailed content preserved for this date]

Tuesday, 9 January 1877

I do not know where to begin — I am broken, annihilated, worse than dead. Death would be a deliverance; I would not welcome it with joy — I would weep for myself... but it would be over at once, whereas in living I die every day.
Yesterday... let me see, yes — yesterday I waited for Gambetta and Pierret; neither came, but in their place the Polish count. I was so downcast that I said a heap of foolish things which delighted him, following which I invited him to dinner.
[Philosophical discussion with the Polish count about women's roles]
— And despite all that, I said in conclusion, woman will always be the coachman and man the horses.
— And the carriage! everyone cried from all sides.
— That is life. And is that not what I am saying? Man is strength, woman is intelligence.
Poor Merjeevsky. That is brief and clear. He missed all the trains and will have to spend the night in Nice...
I went up to my rooms, took everything off, and after weeping as the wretch that I am, fell asleep on the floor.
This morning they gave me the following note.
Naturally, I await M. Pierret at three o'clock — not without trembling somewhat. I had put on my new fur-trimmed coat to intimidate him.
At three o'clock M. Gustave Pierret entered the yellow drawing room where I was. A tall dark man, red-lidded, black-bearded, correctly dressed.
[Detailed verbatim dialogue of the confrontation with Pierret about his alleged slanders, his denials of knowing the family or saying anything against them, and Marie's interrogation about his supposed correspondence with Cardinal Antonelli regarding her reputation and the failed engagement]
— It is for the first time that I hear all that you do me the honour of telling me.
— Ah! So much the better, Monsieur... I shrank from believing such villainy on the part of a gentleman. Sometimes too people pursue those they do not know. How wrong that is — oh, very wrong! Well, Monsieur, since it was not you, it remains for me to ask your pardon for having disturbed you... but you see, I like to bring things to a clear conclusion, and I thought it better, at the cost of being thought extravagant, to ask you to come here and to speak to you openly, rather than to go gathering what is said in corners.