Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 24 July 1880

They sent me white batiste dresses from Paris; they fit well. I dressed, with a pretty hat. We went out, and now I read and play the guitar.
Patti certainly has a marvelous voice, but how is it that even at the moment when you applaud her, you feel that something is missing from your enthusiasm? La Pasqua from Nice gave me more complete sensations! But no one has moved me like myself in the moments when I found a little of my voice again, and even when I have only enough to sing softly, for myself. I do not think I am blinding myself, for two musicians like Barnola and Bihovetz were delighted with my voice, and especially with the accent that "went to the soul."
It is certainly not proper to speak of food after music, but we are naturalists, are we not? In this damned Mont-Dore one starves when one cannot be content with the filth of the table d'hote. I arrange not to lunch by having tea with cream in the morning and drinking milk from time to time. I hope this will make me lose still more weight and clear my complexion. You see that this pause will have poetic results... not too much, however, for I have lost enough weight and am slender just right for a young girl; for a woman one could put on a little more, but that would not be useful.
It is like being in a wild country: impossible to obtain anything from the kitchens. I end up finding it amusing; I went down to get the bread I found in the anteroom, and Rosalie scoured the town to find foie gras and fruit. And I play the mandolin; it soothes the soul, truly there is nothing like it. My sorrows of yesterday are veiled by the sounds of the instrument. And at eight o'clock I go to bed.