Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 23 January 1879

I called on Mouzay, still with an eye to Saturday. I had the nuisance of hearing this old fool hold forth about one's personal development, one's manners, and so on, advising me to take care with my handwriting, not to make ink blots, and then discoursing on how one should run one's salon, by whom one should surround oneself, and finally criticizing our acquaintances.
Stupid and vain woman yourself, you old fool!
We are at last in our own place — avenue Montaigne 34. There is barely enough to sit on. I shall be in a continual state of irritation until everything is fully furnished. It is so cold and there is so much snow that I stayed at home.
Paul has returned from Nice. Crowds of people in Nice — Marcuard and Larderei, who is not married; he keeps company with women of ill repute, and one of them, disguised as a boy, accompanied him to Florence where he was going to visit his fiancée.
That is true rottenness. I beg your pardon for the expression, but it is the one that fits this former ideal.