Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 7 June 1877

As two years ago, I went to the Bains Georges and bathed — diving from the top of the jetty, floating on my back, and so on. There was not a soul from the old days, except the journalist Noël, who said (overheard by Rosalie) on seeing me playing in the water with Pincio: "It is gay — but it is not the wild gaiety of former times." Certainly not — my poor Graces, and poor Yourkoff, and Nina — and those wretched Nicois — how far away all that is. Had the rudeness of those scoundrels not grieved me, I should count that period as the gayest and most wild of my past and future life. Mme Kondareff reminds me of Nina — the same heedlessness, the same innocence in depravity. No one with whom to play the fool!
That great gangling lout of an Emile makes a show of it — he laughs when I don't greet him; as much as you like, my boy, you are angry all the same.
Alexandre refuses to come right — but patience. This evening we went to the Promenade, and sitting on a bench I played the mandoline; after which Walitsky went and held out his hat to passers-by, who thought he was greeting them.
Then Maman returned — she is always with or at Mme Anitchkoff's, who is likewise at our house every day.
We stayed late chatting, because Mme Kondareff was waiting for the last train so she could ambush Bihovetz returning from Monaco and borrow money from him. I advised her to faint before asking — he will lose his head and forget to say he has lost at the tables.
One is suffocating — and this Pincio who always insists on sharing my armchair! You know, when I dived in, he followed me at a run — but arriving at the edge of the diving board, he stopped short and began to whimper and raise his front paws in so pitiful and touching a manner throughout the time I was underwater, that the onlookers were profoundly moved. Poor dog — I torment him all day long and he adores me.