Wednesday, 8 May 1878

This evening is the grand ball given by the Princesse de Sagan in honour of the Prince and Princess of Wales.
But we too have our festivity: M. Georges. After which I go to tell my mother that as long as I had hope I argued with her, but now it is all over — I despise her and am leaving. After which reproaches burst forth. I am a monster of ingratitude, the only wrong they ever did was to marry M. Bashkirtseff.
Pack of idiots! What do you expect me to say!
They have ruined me and they dare to shout!
Why am I condemned to suffer so much? My dear mother would not fail to say: For the way you treat your mother! — without reflecting that such treatment is only the consequence of all these horrors, or the means to improve, however slightly, the infernal existence we lead.
Dear God, make me suffer still more — torment me yet further if that is possible — because then I shall be certain... of a reward.
What must the servants think — the neighbours! I play the part of the husband, my mother that of the wife, and the other that of the lover.
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They hide it from me, and scarcely am I out of the door when they let him in.
I should like to consult someone, but they would ask why my mother does nothing about it — and they would think dreadful things, things I have invented to frighten, but which do not act in the right direction, which only cause panic, and that is all. But put yourself in my place! They have already lived — but I am young, I want to live, and they are ruining me! I face a kind of madwoman instead of a mother, and I am killing myself, wearing myself to nothing, pleading before a deaf woman!
I do not know whether the word maddening can be used in circumstances so lugubrious, but it well expresses my feeling — it is maddening to the highest degree to see that one is loved and yet martyred, killed, ruined through weakness and folly!
There is no way to be rid of this man as long as his father is there, they say?
— Yes, there is, and a simple one. If only my mother received him... and if he knew she would welcome him as I welcome him, he would never come.
If Cassagnac were not getting married, I would go and ask his advice — it would be an amusing episode; but if he does marry I fear to bother him.