Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 1 April 1877

I wrote together with Doenhoff about twenty letters worded thus: "This evening at six o'clock by the Aquarium — absolutely." Many were caught by it. Above all the solemn Prussians of the Prince's suite, who all went there in secret from one another. Doenhoff watched the scene with us from the balcony.
I had also written to Larderei, then sent Rosalie to retrieve the letter in which I had not concealed that it was from Violette — the better to catch him. We encountered him on the Via Chiaia so abruptly that I lost my temper. His greeting seemed cold and hesitant; Dina was holding out violets to me — I threw them on the pavement, and asking to go back I shut myself into a silence that seemed caused by something like fright.
We were entering the Chiaia (riviera di), and he also on foot with two nondescript scoundrels. I went out on the balcony — he passed through the Villa looking at me, as I was doing on my side; reaching the cross-street he left his friends and came back into the hotel, just below the balcony. I went back into the room — and the trembling, the beating of my heart for five minutes — God alone knows. I had had the letter redelivered; seeing him come in, I fell into a frenzied fever to get the letter back.
Rosalie found me breathless on the floor. — I have the letter! she cried. Ah!
— And Bijou? I asked, tearing the paper into thirty-six pieces. — He asked whether the ladies were at home... — And you said?!!! — I said you were alone... — Wretched girl!!
No matter — the impulse was right... I get back into the carriage, calmed. And I have the real pleasure of seeing Bijou again — always with his aides-de-camp! What a mania for being forever the colonel of a heap of soldiers and civilians, feeding them all and ruining himself!! His cards were sent up to us. Why? I sent him a Punch. I burn to see him — to show that I am not a fool. Toward six o'clock he was at his window like a proper concierge.
We came in — five minutes later he was beside me on the balcony. I began to converse quite animatedly, blushing at every sentence. I was deeply vexed to see him say two insignificant words to Dina. She assures me, laughing, that this jealousy is the finest compliment anyone has ever paid her.
A triply remarkable day: 1st April, Easter, and the introduction of the very handsome, very illustrious, very ravishing, very great Prince de Melissano! He was passing with a friend — seeing Larderei on our balcony, this superb monkey clasped his hands; I nodded to Bijou, who made a gesture; Melissano got down from his carriage, came up to our floor, and was introduced — the true buffoon that he is. Larderei produces a strange effect on me.
This evening at the Opera — the same box as at the Veglione — graciously crowded by six Knights of the Violet: Melito, Caracciolo, Melissano, Marini, Campomarino, and Bijou.
I bloomed being surrounded. Bijou is in a teasing mood. He is Maman's husband, we are his daughters, Campomarino his son, my brother. He tells Maman some whole story and she retreats to a corner. I am not stupid — on the contrary. At last! He placed himself between Dina and me and paid the latter a compliment on her curls, to which I could not help replying that he had bad taste. A near-general conversation peppered with teasing exchanges with Larderei made the evening charming.
— What charming violets you have — he said, lowering his voice. — Yes, I always wear them. — There are many violets in Naples. — It is the season, but mine are wilted — I shall soon have none left to eat — I added, letting half a flower fall on my lap. — If you will permit us, we shall send you some, he said, picking up and placing in his mouth what I had dropped. — It seems to me, I said smiling, that we have already permitted you that.
He does not frighten me this evening! What luck. — You remember, he resumed, the evening when you [Words blacked out: asked me to take] your arm to leave this theatre? — I believe, Monsieur, that we are here with you for the first time... — Yes, but there, in the foyer... where I ate half... — Wait! And drawing a dried fig from my pocket, I gave him half, and we ate it as on the evening of the Veglione.
The conversation was about kindness — I was extolling Maman's. — We sometimes quarrel on that subject, I said to Larderei — Maman is too kind. — That is because you are wicked. — I get that from my father — from you. — Everything good in you comes from me. — Oh! that is certain... but no, seriously, I am excellent — only... — Not always. — I become wicked when I am tormented. — You were wicked these last days, but sometimes you are good... — When? — The day you went to fetch your aunt at Cancello. — Was I not? But do not speak of it before Maman — that excursion cost me dear enough... — They found out you had sent the telegram?... — Yes... and Maman was very angry — so never speak of Cancello before her... — But we can speak of it between ourselves... — Yes... — Why did you do it? — To play a joke... — An early April Fool? — Exactly — it was for my amusement. — Going by express train for an hour and coming straight back — fine amusement! — So it was amusing? he insisted. — Yes, since it gave me pleasure, I replied boldly... looking him straight in the face.
Melissano was saying something to me, the others were watching. At last I understood that Melissano was paying me compliments and saying: — You must have noticed how much I wished to be introduced to you. — One would have had to be blind. — I was even impertinent — you did not take offense? — Oh! I did not attach enough importance to you. — Ah! but I made a bad impression on you? — Good heavens, no — if you were too disagreeable to me I would not leave you seated behind me... — So it is rather a good impression... — Not that either, [Words illegible] but you made me laugh madly — especially these last days I could not see you without it... as for the rest, complete indifference. — What a dreadful word! That is the word with which women assassinate... — I am so sorry, Monsieur, but I shall therefore be obliged to assault you every day... You are a marquis, you say?...
One must address them by their titles — otherwise one would not know which was which, unless one said Monsieur So-and-so. Campomarino was saying something to me... I do not know what. I was in the grip of Bijou, who was making friendly signs to the officer par excellence and to another uniform. These two Marses, mouths agape and eyes fixed on me with the expression of admiration, gave me real pleasure — because it happened before Bijou, and Bijou drew Melissano's attention to it. It always adds something to see the impression one makes on others.
We waited a long time in the foyer, duly escorted. Melissano giving me his arm was a success — they all but applauded. He is the buffoon of the city. I laughed with the others. [Written across: His desire to be introduced to you had become proverbial.] Larderei was looking at everyone waiting for their carriages as we were, with such a wild expression that it pained me. He only needed la Righi!
We drove him back — he is going to sleep until three, then to gamble, and at six in the morning to try his racehorses. He took away Maman's bracelet and a small tortoiseshell comb of mine. He places it in his hair — I was enchanted thinking that I shall put back into mine something that he will have touched.
You know what he told Maman? The interest he took in telling it was already an offense to me! He was speaking of that woman!! He is still furious with Niccolini who made him look ridiculous — I do not love him any more, but he made me look ridiculous. That woman is made like a goddess, like no one else. Poor madman!
Oh! what fine revenge he took on Niccolini. While Niccolini was ill, he openly went to spend the night with la Righi, gave her a thousand francs, and said before the servants as he left her house: He made me look ridiculous while you were with me — now you are with him, and it is I who make him look ridiculous. Go and take those thousand francs to your lover!
If it were another man I might perhaps have applauded — but Larderei makes me feel pity, shame. He enrages me, he offends me!! His daughter is two years old. He gave her a hundred thousand francs. — I am at ease, he says — she will receive six thousand francs a year! — She is perhaps not yours?
— Perhaps — I know she is that woman's; the rest, who can tell? I care nothing for the world and its opinion — my family, the King — everyone wanted to set me up in life; I wanted none of it. I spit on everyone. But I shall not be at ease until Niccolini is dead. I am capable of procuring a knife thrust for him in a very dark street — I had built a house, I had a woman, a home, and all that was shattered, annihilated in an hour. I need nothing — I drink, I gamble, I make a racket, and come home at six in the morning where I find... everything I need. I was ready to marry her... — Marry her then — it would be more original!!!
I am indignant, wounded, overwhelmed — after writing these infamies that Maman reported to me and that I partly heard myself. Good heavens! What sort of man is this! Good God, what is he saying? It is true then that he is really mad!!! It is I who would like to do something to la Righi! To the daughter! He has a daughter, he speaks of her, he loves her perhaps!!! Oh! My God and Holy Virgin Mary, let it not be so! Is this then what I have chosen! The castoff of a courtesan, of a dancer!! And he still regrets her!! And he would go back if she wished it and if it were not so infamously ridiculous!!!

Notes

Un polichinelle: a Punch figure or puppet — a comic gesture, likely a toy or figurine sent as a playful retort. ↩
Chevaliers de la Violette: Marie's name for her admirers — "Violette" being her code name in her correspondence with Larderei. ↩