Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 15 May 1877

I am so thoroughly sickened by the routine of this Nice life — lived entirely indoors — that I have not even screamed about it in my journal. That is something.
I saw Barnola only to receive his farewell — he came to deliver the customary cargo of innocent and not-so-innocent gossip, news, and all those things which have once again invaded me like the more or less agreeable perfume of this provincial life: its petty interests, its trivialities, its platitudes.
Barnola spent a winter in Florence three years ago; I asked him whether he knew Mirafiore and the Lardereis.
"Yes," he said, "Mirafiore very well."
"And Larderei?"
"By sight."
"Which one — the fair one or the dark one?"
"The dark one, with the rather fine features."
"Ah ha! My aunt — what did I tell you! Thank you, Monsieur!"
"Why yes," he went on, "the Lardereis are known for being very handsome..."
"Ah ha!"
"Certainly, Madame," he continued, understanding nothing of our exclamations.
I was delighted.
But what a painful impression at the Skating rink — I had forgotten all those Vigier women, all those Russian women...
Audiffret stayed the whole time beside my aunt; I skated and chatted with Comte Laurenti, risen from the dead — he really had been very ill.
Audiffret has an air of confusion and sadness; one almost pities him. I wrapped him in a cascade of lively, mocking, slightly disdainful phrases — I who in the old days didn't know what to say. His jokes seemed feeble to me, but his neck is very white.
"You know, Madame," he said to my aunt, "you know the tower — the famous tower — well... it's sold!" [sic]
It was meant to be mocking, but was only sad.
"Ah yes, we know," said I. "There was a beautiful garden there, I believe — rare plants... the terraces, all of that."
"Yes, good God, yes."
I then asked him about Florence, where he is very well known.
"I saw a friend of yours," said I. "M. de Larderei."
"Ah! Is he still as cracked as ever?"
"Cracked? I hadn't noticed."
"Well, really!"
"I assure you, Monsieur, that he has settled down, put his affairs in order, and is in every way very... agreeable."
"Oh! So you saw nothing but agreeable people?"
"I flatter myself — it is for that reason I travel; otherwise it would be no change for me."
"That's meant for me, you know!"
"Present company is excepted — besides, don't credit yourself with so much honour."
I recounted to Laurenti my chemical experiments to determine whether what I felt was love — almost in the same terms as in this journal... I play the child in order to be able to say a great deal.
Every day we have the little Anitchkoffs, Jeanne Daniloff, and then Lise — these children refresh the heart. We speak so much of Alexandre and Alexandrine that I think of them more than ever. I have wound up the mechanism, and at every moment one's ear is agreeably tickled.
If I had a million I would make this deal out of sheer impatience.