Tuesday, 12 October 1880

The Tchoumakoffs at dinner yesterday.
Yesterday too I received the following telegram from Poltava:
"The whole nobility presents to you in our persons its congratulations on the occasion of your father's unanimous election. We drink to your health. — Abaza, Manderstern."
Abaza is the one I knew in Russia, the biggest shot in Poltava after having been one in Petersburg and Odessa.
Manderstern is the marshal of the nobility for the province, as my father is for the district of Poltava.
Saint-Amand at lunch with us.
Here is my telegraphic reply — you understand [crossed out: one must be polite], one must [crossed out: not] show that M. Bashkirtseff's affairs do not concern me, but at the same time one must thank these gentlemen and "our good nobility of Poltava"; one must show oneself polite, for family affairs are nobody's concern, and then it is a sort of... how to put it, it is almost official, it is pompous, and I may perhaps have to put forward my candidacy in Poltava when we have made progress. In short, here it is:
"Flattered by the gracious attention, I cordially thank the worthy representatives of the nobility of Poltava, to which I wish a thousand prosperities. — Marie Bashkirtseff."
It is dignified, it is noble, it is a great man's telegram, and moreover it is not in telegraphic style with all the adverbs, etc., suppressed. In short, my girl, you make me pity you.
I am rereading Paul et Virginie very attentively, and I willingly excuse the somewhat stilted naivetes of the style in the descriptions of the virtues of those good people. But I have just indulged in a session of good tears!
You know, when Paul comes back from the neighbor's and asks from afar of the Black woman Marie: Where is Virginie? Marie turns her head toward him and begins to cry. And so do I. No, it is dreadful too for that child to return and no longer find her. Then he runs to the rock and sees the ship which is now only a black speck...
There one is seized with rage on his behalf. And I weep and I weep! And when Paul says to the dog running before him: go, you will never find her again! It is beyond my control. And the letter from Virginie where she sends violet seeds to Paul. No, but the dreadful moment is when she has left and he looks at the black speck on the horizon from the top of the rock. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre himself did not understand what he had created — it is a passage sublime in its simplicity and incomparable in emotion.

Notes

The marshal of the nobility (predvoditel dvoryanstva) was an elected leader of the local gentry in the Russian administrative system.