Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 31 January 1880

It has been a good month since I have been to the Bois. Gambetta in a coupe with a lady. Arnaud in a cabriolet likewise. Monkey.
This evening Saturday, a concert and ball for the Murcia flood victims at the Hotel Continental, under the patronage of Queen Isabella, who after attending the concert came down to the ballrooms where she stayed for an hour. Maman and I had taken our places behind her; it was even tedious. We could neither go down nor could anyone approach us before the departure of the Court. It was M. de Miranda who gave his arm to Maman and who had found us good places. He is a valuable man. Soutzo had taken us in hand from the entrance, but do you know who was the first figure I saw forming the line at the door? The Baron
Arnaud. That dog of a man is handsome this evening; he has the lower face of an inquisitor with that circumspect and pinched mouth. He entered the hall behind us; I lost sight of him having gone up to the concert, then found him again while we were prisoners behind the Queen. Another missed opportunity!
I am very low-cut but very decent; dressed in a cloud of white tulle. Neither flowers, nor jewels, nor ribbons. As for acquaintances, Lachaud, Filippini, Rognat, de Rouzat, Courtes, Ferret, Blanc, de Miranda, Lancaster, Soutzo!... By the way, this last has asked for my hand in marriage. Good Lord yes, quite simply.
I do not much like dancing, and swaying like that in the arms of men... does not much amuse me; in sum, it is indifferent to me, for I have never understood anything of the disturbances occasioned by the waltz, in novels.
When dancing, I think only of those who are watching.
I walked about mostly, and during one of these walks with Soutzo, having sat down, he made his proposal most drolly. What are my ideas about marriage, and if I intend to marry.
"But certainly."
"Then you are willing to marry?"
"Do not doubt it, Monsieur."
"And when, soon?"
"Around my twenty-third year, I think, but what is it to you?"
"I have wanted to speak to you about it for a long time, more than a week. So not before twenty-three? Never before?"
"But yes, only for that something must happen that I do not expect... what do I know?"
"Then if someone asked you now, you would refuse?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"If Gambetta asked me, I would accept."
"You are always laughing."
"I am very serious."
"How fortunate he is!"
"Oh yes."
"Then if a young man loved you, proved to you that he truly loves you... what would you say?"
"He must please me."
"But then how, what? You do not like blonds, but appearance matters little, does it not?"
"No doubt."
"Moral qualities then?"
"What a funny conversation you are having this evening!"
"No, listen."
"Well, he would have to be virtuous, good, pure, etc., etc."
"And then?"
"And then we should see. Oh! If it were Gambetta."
"And if it were Alexis Karageorgevitch."
"I would send him to a wet nurse."
"Then you find him too young?"
"Yes, but it is not a question of him."
"But yes, I am speaking for him, well."
"He has charged you with this?"
"No, but it is to do a service to a friend."
"What an idea! He does not think of me; it has been a fortnight since I have seen him."
"Does that prevent it? I have not seen you for a week and..."
"And?"
"Then you would refuse Alexis?"
"But yes."
"No one pleases you?"
"No one."
"No one?"
"Ah! Indeed, no one."
"Then if one wanted to ask you... how to go about it, to whom to speak, through a friend or... how is it done?"
"Do you believe, for example, that I have had a marriage bureau?"
"Oh! How wicked you are! But an intelligent young lady like you needs no one, does she? One can speak to her directly?"
"Oh! Yes, that."
And all this in a trembling voice, pale; one could feel his heart beating and his breath quickening.
"Then it is on Alexis's account that you are telling me all this?"
"Well no, it is for myself!"
"For yourself? I would like to marry Gambetta." In sum, I did not understand very well. "Lord, how droll you are. But no desperate gestures; you will make this confession to me another time."
"You understand, if you go to Russia, I shall follow you, I shall wait, I shall prove... in short, a young man who would prove to you that he adores you..."
At this moment Courtes comes to sit with us.
I had indeed noticed some impatience, some dark looks, but I did not think it would go that far.
Do you know who Soutzo is? He is a Wallachian or Romanian Karageorges. Good family, fine name. 400,000 francs of fortune, they say. A sister married to M. de Werbranck, director of the Parisian Bank. The young man is a fairly handsome dark fellow, pale, square, wearing pince-nez, twenty-two to twenty-three years old. Good fellow, harmless.
I do not care.
I did not go to bed at all so as to be more surely at the studio early and finish my competition piece. I am a personage, the official professor; I am popular; I am consulted; I run the shop.
My ineffable father writes me an astonishing letter in response to my business letter about Paul. He takes it in a paternal tone, very tender, kind, speaking to me of our theatrical performance, begging me to do him the honor and the happiness of spending six months with him, after which he will be at my orders for Paris. He promises me amusements at Poltava, playing comedy. He is sure I am adorable at the ball and that I act delightfully; he only regrets not having been there. "There is an occupation for a proper lady," he believes, "as for painting (do not be angry), I do not like it. I like paintings, but it is not fitting to dirty one's own fingers," and then thirty-six kind things, not a word about Paul. Here is my reply. (See published letters)
Quite a crowd today. The Tchoumakoffs, Bizinsky, Soutzo gloomy, de Morgan, Wodzinsky, Mlle de Cerny - I must open a parenthesis: Tchernitsky (de Cerny is her professional name) is from a good family, raised at the Institute for Noble Maidens; they noticed her beautiful voice and she is pensioned by the Emperor to develop this talent. Instead, she goes about, knows all the Russians, and amuses herself. An honest girl. I believe her mad; she speaks of her sciences, she claims to write on pathology, physiology, education, chemistry, etc., etc. And with all that she stirs up business deals and always announces that she is going to make 11 or 12 millions. Twenty-four or twenty-five years old, [Crossed out: looks very much like Nilsson.] Generally tedious, stupid, shrill, and irritating. There you have it. M. Dubois [Words blacked out: the Count] de Fromessant (introduced yesterday), the Count de Bouzat, Mme Gavini, Berthe, Mme de Bailleul, Mme Kent, a very rich American. Berthe says she looked at me for five minutes before recognizing me yesterday, I was so pretty. I hope Arnaud saw me, especially at the entrance, in my cloud. It has been more than thirty-six hours since I have been up. I left my family at dinner with Tolmatcheff, Soutzo, and Wodzinsky and la Cerny. They bore me.