Monday, 4 July 1881

More grievances.
It is about my departure, which no one appears to believe in.
And so after dinner my father takes my arm and, as we walk about the courtyard, asks me why I am in such a hurry to leave. I reply that I have not hurried, since I was to stay only three weeks and have stayed six. He continues:
— But why rush — you understand it is just a figure of speech — what have you to run off there for.
After all that had been said it was already exasperating — but I hold myself back.
— To go to the waters — you who are so concerned about my health must know that.
— But you will go when the time comes... besides, those quacks know nothing — it is here that health is to be found, and the waters after...
— When would that be, according to you?
— Why... Biarritz in September.
— That is not the waters...
— Then in the month of August...
— So that is a fortnight more that you are asking me to
stay?
— I say nothing — only why rush... You ought to stay, and for three reasons.
— Say them.
— So as not to leave father, mother, and brother.
— Whom I do not love enough — you know that — to stay [words blacked out: or go] on their account... next?
— For your health.
— And then?
— And then over there... one hasn't got a penny, and you would be left with nothing...
— What did you say?
— But there is no money.
— You are mad — nothing has changed in the least; I know our affairs perfectly.
— But really, they are at the end of their resources.
— Ah! You take me for an idiot, I believe.
— So you think to frighten me with nonsense, children's inventions! You take me for an imbecile then — you yourself, my dear.
And I left, crying out that it was very stupid of him to take me for such a simpleton — and really after that thoroughly irritating dialogue — and to dare to speak of money! And here! The horses cost me three hundred roubles — and they have been growing old here!
I asked him what he offered me here in exchange for the life of Paris. He could not say, and persisted in those Jesuitical half-sentences at which he excels. Listen — I am quite dizzy with being so thoroughly in the right. He does not even argue — which is the most infuriating thing of all. I have marvellous parents indeed, who would gladly let me rot here, or marry me off to Micha or some other country squire — not even a prince.
After this outburst he went and furnished the letter needed for Rosalie's passport, as though one had been fighting for that letter. Truly it is remarkable. There was a business the other day when this charming father declared he could not accompany me at present. Note that, while imploring me to come, he swore to me a hundred times in Paris that he would escort me back even eight days after my arrival if such were my fancy. But it is a tissue of lies and evasions that one does not even take the trouble to conceal. What is irritating is that this Jesuitical idiot takes me for a fool. That is vexing. And the impudence I! One cannot conceive it.
Well — if at least (it would be useless) — but if at least one offered me (even if it were lies) — if one offered
at least for form's sake something here, begging me to stay — but there is no concealing that there is nothing but luncheon, dinner, and cards with the family.
What infamous parents. With others, one would prevent by every means a young girl from burying herself here — they ask nothing better provided they are not disturbed. In truth it is monstrous, and I am so astonished to be so thoroughly in the right that I lose my head with exasperation and tears.

Notes

Les eaux — the waters: mineral spa treatments, a standard prescription for respiratory and general ailments in the 19th century. Marie has been advised to take a cure at a spa town, which her father is attempting to delay or redirect toward Biarritz (a fashionable seaside resort, not a mineral spa).
Roubles: Russian currency, indicating that the Bashkirtseff family maintained financial assets and property in Russia. Three hundred roubles was a considerable sum.
Jesuitical half-sentences: Marie uses "Jesuit" as an epithet for cunning, equivocating speech — a common 19th-century anticlerical usage implying clever evasiveness rather than sincere engagement.
"The impudence I!" — In English in the original. Marie uses this emphatic English exclamation as a rhetorical intensifier.