Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Wednesday, 29 May 1878

If it were just once by chance — but it is the same thing every time.
Could anything be more indelicate, more disgusting, more vile!
At six o'clock the little Mme Lacon (pronounced Laiconn) arrives and carries me off to dinner at the Ledoyen restaurant, then to the circus, which amused me.
We were seven: Lady Lacon, her two sons, her daughter, her daughter-in-law, and M. Foster. The conversation was very English between the
gentlemen and the ladies — but among the women we said risqué things to each other like Frenchwomen. Besides, they are tamed Englishwomen.
I do not think Fio made a love match, and upon my word I prefer such marriages in France, where in lieu of feeling there is a sort of elegance — whereas in England there is only honesty.
At the exit I spoke with M. de Morgan.
You know better than anyone whether I am deceiving myself about the passion I inspire in Cassagnac. But no matter — he resembles me; that is to say, he is possessive, touchy, and like that dog who lies on hay he does not eat and will not allow the goats to eat either.
I warrant you the following scene:
The scene takes place at Popaul's. Popaul and Blanc.
Blanc — You see the Russian ladies often, Paul?
Paul — No, why?
Blanc — Nothing, I had thought—
Paul — already intrigued [words blotted: picks up a] newspaper.
Blanc lights a cigar.
Blanc — [Words blotted: They are quite mad about you. So you told them you were getting married, Paul.]
Paul — smiling. Ah! Really.
Blanc — They are saying you are getting married.
Paul, stung — Me!
Blanc, calmly — Well, I thought you had told them so.
Paul, impatiently — What absurdity.
They speak of other things.
Blanc seizes a pretext and in an indifferent tone: Those ladies are quite charming. You who are a connoisseur of feet, Paul — Mlle Marie has a pair I need say no more (the perfidy here conceals itself beneath flowers) — shod as unshod.
Paul raises his head, his nose, and his fine Newfoundland eyes — which have kept an expression of childlike unconcern — and casts an ingenuous but Gascon glance at Blanc: You have seen it?
Blanc, through his teeth holding a cigar — Yes—
Paul, with a certain distaste — Ah! Then he goes to pick up a pamphlet from the sideboard, displacing in passing the bunch of artificial violets that is on the piano.
Blanc smokes and watches him from the corner of his eye.
Paul, while cutting the pages — So you have seen Mlle Marie's bare foot, Blanc?
Blanc, still through his cigar — Good Lord yes, several times — besides, she showed it to me.
You can picture it from here.
[Written across the page: All this I invented]
I claimed to be mad with my brother — I am even madder with others, with Blanc.
My extravagance becomes licence, and wild escapades become conduct. And on top of everything we tell people he is getting married, which enrages him.
You can picture it from here.
I have begun to paint and am quite troubled; supposing I succeed in painting very well — from there to the celebrity that must stand in place of everything else is a great distance... I had a mind to say there is only one step.