Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 5 November 1878

At eight o'clock I was in town searching for props, and at ten o'clock I was dressed as an elegant old lady when tickets arrived from my savior Turquan.
We had officer-level tickets; I caught hold of Bescherelle — the fierce Bescherelle — and wrested from him permission to exchange the tickets.
My first thought on seeing the Deceased enter was this: he has not grown fat — on the contrary. I may wait without concern.
Those vile women — the wife and mother-in-law of Cassagnac sitting there — produced a strange effect on me.
I thought that the slightest pinprick and the most infinitesimal drop of prussic acid would put an end to that little air of happiness — so childlike despite a faded face.
What a procession of deputies would have come to my box, had I been in that girl's place!
After the assassination, there came a feeling of shame when I thought of my letters — and then rage and grief at seeing this stupidity accomplished, at seeing that girl in the place which, by reason, by justice, by my ambitions, I ought to have occupied.