Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 18 May 1880

Yesterday evening I was teasing Soutzo about his supposedly Turkish origin, about his not very illustrious ancestors, and about the quarrel he had with his millionaire uncle because he had courted his maid... I was displaying a wit worthy of Berthe... Then he began to tell me the origins of the families that ruled over there, and especially of his own. I questioned him in a rambling way, joking so as not to let him see that I was curious to know all these things...
I am now quite strong in Romanian history.
My aunt was seated at my desk, I on the divan, and Soutzo beside me — between us two, Coco. Soutzo's second name is Alexandre.
This dead-end intimacy almost worries me. And I often say to myself: what is the point?
The course in Wallachian and Moldavian history lasted long enough to lull me quite pleasantly to sleep.
At midnight we dismiss the professor. My aunt goes out with him, and he returns to say goodnight to me. The other day I formally forbade him to kiss my hand. This evening I was half asleep; he took my hand. I closed my eyes and played dead; my hand was quite limp. He held it in his, saying I know not what... then raised it softly to his lips and went out, letting it fall.
A few people at dinner, and in the evening to Mme de Bailleul's.
Until ten o'clock, Caillas came to give me a zither lesson; afterward we go to the former fiancee's.
The Audiffrets were leaving as we arrived; they were dressing in the bedroom, which was open for the occasion.
Rouzat and Soutzo were there. "What a pity! We are leaving, you are arriving!" "We are arriving and you are leaving," etc. Exchange of courtesies. I greet Soutzo only afterward: "I did not see you, Monsieur." He went as far as the antechamber to see the Audiffrets out.
Then he sat down near me, but as I turned my head away, he did not make any great speeches. So I went to sit opposite, and he made himself agreeable to the other ladies... What company! The Jewish Mme Meyer with a goiter, but a handsome woman — a creature one should not be seen with; she lives, they say, with the Baron de Vergnioles, her son-in-law. The Baron and his young wife. The Canoness de Juvisy and Mme de Juvisy, a slender, pleasant blonde who sings like a little cat.
An old lady, two old gentlemen; M. Verdier, big as an elephant, aspires to the hand of the chatelaine. Mademoiselle Tchernitsky, my aunt, and I, and a Countess de Laval who plays the piano well. The fat suitor sings!! La Cerny sings!! Mme de Bailleul has an unimaginable outfit — old white and black tarlatan and a bodice that, despite the beauty's large belly, hung empty and stiff in front... It is enough to make one weep, evenings like these, not to mention that I am displeased with what's-his-name — very displeased. We left with La Cerny, and he did not bestir himself... It is true I was not amiable, nor was he, for that matter. It is not precisely jealousy, but it resembles it.
If jealousy did not exist, I would have invented it.
What! It is this creature whose fate I pitied! Good, devoted — fie! One must be quite abandoned by gods and men for this animal to cause me vexation... This will not end well. I already resign myself with an inward smile... I am so accustomed to the most foolish annoyances that nothing will surprise me. In the evening I am not deaf — that at least is something gained.