Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 21 March 1877

Rosalie wakes me with a letter. Read it. It gave me less pleasure than the first, because I wanted it yesterday.
The mandolin teacher gives me new details. The Marquis Niccolini was also slightly wounded, but he is the finest sabre-fighter in Florence.
Larderei has written to the racing committee — he is entering horses. Then Mme Hamontoff arrives, then Bikowsky. And then I go to see the Fabbricatore young women, who have colds.
And then... I sit there an hour to write these few lines. For some days now I need an infinite amount of time to write one or two wretched pages. I am lazy and I no longer feel engaged.
Before going to bed I make abominable puns that make Maman, Dina, and Rosalie laugh — I laugh myself and then I detest myself!

Notes

Lisez-là — a minor grammatical slip in the original (should be Lisez-la). ↩