Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 24 June 1879

Last Saturday I showed the painted figure study to Tony, and he told me to paint more of them. Accordingly we are painting figure studies.
I am glad to read what Le Pays contains — those English letters; you can well imagine the comments I would make. The tears hurt my eyes; I hold them back, which makes me weep from the nose. Do not think I am consoled — I shall never be consoled. I shall think of it less, I shall think of it no more, but each time I do think of it I shall not be consoled. If he had died on a throne all these expressions of sympathy would touch me little — but seeing the grief and consternation of everyone, and above all the pity inspired by that wretched mother, my heart swells. And then all those testimonials of condolence in the newspapers... move me. What can I say? I find this crime appalling, for there is a crime. [One line cancelled]
My grief [was real enough] that it no longer entertains me. It exhausts me.
Calm and serious natures cannot be torn apart by misfortune as natures like the Empress's can be.
With all this, the Cassagnacs are not shining, and in these circumstances it has become clear to me that Paul is not entirely taken seriously. That would be a consolation if this unheard-of event — so dreadfully painful for any man who is not completely brutish — were not so mercilessly revolting and hideous. It is a betrayal, a crime. Poor child — when I think how he must have cried out, struggled, called for help!
Abandoned, abandoned, abandoned by those infamous men! Handed over by those cowards! Are you not, like me, revolted to the very depths of your soul, and do you [not weep] sincere and bitter tears thinking of the unhappy woman who waits over there for a letter from a son still living — who is dead.