Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 6 October 1878

Sunday, 6 October 1878

"No, you are right to begin — you can paint. There is good in it, there is good..."
"I was afraid I was not sufficiently advanced to paint..."
"Not at all — you are sufficiently advanced; continue; it is not bad..." etc. etc.
And thereupon a long lesson that proves it is not sans espoir — "without hope," as they say at the atelier. I am not liked at the atelier, and at every wretched success Breslau gives me furious glances that are quite laughable.
But Robert-Fleury does not believe I have never learned to paint. He stayed a long time — correcting, chatting, and smoking as if he were Carolus. I received several extra pieces of advice, and then this imbecile asked how I had placed in last year's competition. And when I said second —
"And this year," he said, "you must... hm?"
It is so absurd — he has already told Julian he thinks I shall have a medal.
And so here I am, without any difficulty, authorised to paint from life without having painted still lifes; I skip them as I skipped plaster casts.
Doenhoff had accompanied the ladies to the Exposition; at the entrance, they see Mme Randouin — who was a sub-prefect's wife in the days when the Gavinis entertained all the crowned heads who passed through Nice so magnificently. Doenhoff knew her from that time too.
"Here is Mme Randouin," Maman said to him.
She heard it and immediately approached the carriage, beginning a thousand agreeable things — how happy she is to have been called by Madame, how much Mme Gavini has spoken to her of us, how well she knows us from Nice, how delighted she is to make our acquaintance, etc.
Mme Gavini had indeed told me that "Oofette" wished to make our acquaintance.
Mme Randouin can be at most thirty-five — she is quite beautiful, having been quite pretty. I believe she amuses herself a great deal, but the husband is always there, and she is a lady one receives.
What an existence!!
At eight o'clock I thought it already eleven. So I began playing scales on the mandoline while reading Balzac. Why do they say Balzac is disillusioning? Having read three instalments of Duruy's Roman History, I read La Vie Parisienne and Le Pays, where the fulminating continues...
The last evening at 10bis was a true disgrace for me — you know that, do you not?
When I am rid of my entourage... and if I ever have anything decent in this world, I shall not have earned it without effort.

Notes

Carolus-Duran (Charles Durand, 1837–1917), fashionable portrait painter known for his relaxed and collegial teaching manner, in contrast to the more austere academic approach. ↩