Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 8 September 1877

It is a pity to be truly ravishing when it is truly useless — when it is too late.
I have not been able to work for two days, but I busy myself with childish pranks — such as walking in the mud, going into Dina's room and throwing everything in it into her bath (which she had just stepped out of), then sending the Bademeisterin in after her; then making Pincio and Prater quarrel and having Pincio bite Walitsky, who receives from the wretched animal a smack on the muzzle, whereupon everyone cries out against Walitsky's barbarity; reading the newspapers, which speak of nothing but M. Thiers's funeral, at which grandfather pretends to be furious.
In the midst of all this I receive the following telegram — [missing] — which revives me to the point of vexing me, for Maman and the others will think I am perfectly happy and that this is all I need.
The fact is that I am anxious about Alexandre — not for my own sake, but for my family's.
I have said too much about him not to cut a foolish figure before the household if any change were to come... It is absurd, but they will think me ashamed, which will enrage me and make me ashamed, and all of that, and a thousand other things, etc.
To Rome! When shall I be in Rome, my God!
That is my cry night and day, everywhere, at every moment!