Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 13 January 1882

I am not very pleased, though everything went as expected. I would have wished a more refined crowd — I would have wished it to be something other than a pretty soirée given by worthy Russians who barely knew half their guests. Hence a certain awkwardness; the next time it will already be better... And I would have wished for our ambassador [words blacked out: and all that is] high and great...
Instead of that... The two Coquelins were superb, and the salon presented a charming spectacle — a great number of beautiful women: first the ravishing trio of Mmes de Reverseaux, daughter of Janvier de la Motte, Thouvenel and de Jolly. The Comtesse Kessler; almost all of them lovely... And in sum, as Tony says — who came no more than Julian did — respectable guests. Mother Gavini was enchanted; she had invited her friends and ended by dancing — upon my word — and even waltzing with Count Plater.
As for Father Gavini, he pursued Gabriel and me wherever we went, and I'll wager he believes it might work out and will advise the elder Géry to encourage it. The elder Géry adores me; as for the son, we barely left each other's side — just enough to be proper. There was a dinner first. Count Jurowski, brother-in-law of the innocent Isabelle, the Gavinis, the Gérys, Morgan, Saint-Amand, the princess and Bojidar. Sixteen persons in all.
We were very gracious with the Coquelins — they will not complain of our bourgeoisie. I gave my arm to the elder to go in to the buffet; we are artists, are we not?
[Words blacked out: for the cotillion only] — for leading the cotillion, they were so stupid about it!
Dina, Paul, I no longer know who or what — no one knew who was to lead. Bojidar left in a sulk. In the end there was a moment of confusion which threw me into an unpleasant chill, and I went to sit with Gabriel on the studio divan — made yet more beautiful by the fabrics brought back from Spain, and lit by pink candles and a lamp that cast a charming half-light.

That abominable Gavini came upon us there too; I know he is now convinced that Gabriel is my choice. As for me, I attend to Coquelin and I believe I am managing to establish a certain sympathetic current between us.
Ah! And then, on the artistic front — Bastien's brother, still absent. The brother is something all the same, and on Thursday we go to the real one's place with the Cartwrights and Georges Bertrand... Last year he made an admirable, moving canvas entitled "The Flag." I appreciated it in my column, and he sent me a few very kind words. I sent him an invitation "from P. Orell." It is Pollack who introduces me to him. It is amusing — he pays me great compliments, because although I had hidden them, Dina showed certain studies to those who have eyes to see them. Carrier-Belleuse was melting before my eyes, and toward the end, looking at me, he was quite softened and sentimental, insisting on the cruelty of the motto Gloriae Cupiditas.
There is a young man capable of falling very deeply in love — perhaps he already has, but it will pass; he can plainly see: Gloriae Cupiditas and nothing else.
We had supper at three in the morning, Gabriel on my right, Wodzinski, Villevieille. Nearly sixty people still remained. Nini was charming, lovely, with magnificent shoulders and a very beautiful dress — as were Dina, Maman and my aunt.
I wore a dress made by Doucet and myself in partnership — very nearly an exact reproduction of Greuze's Broken Pitcher. Hair flying loose, twisted into a small chignon set fairly high on the nape. A great garland of Bengal roses running down and losing itself in the skirt, shedding its petals. Skirt entirely pleated and short in silk muslin. Bodice of marvellous satin, laced in front, very full, falling in folds over the waist, without a point, fichu tied askew. Second skirt of muslin lined with satin, open in front and turned back in lapels forming panniers, one of them filled with roses — this second skirt forming a small train [words blacked out: embroidered] with roses inside. I looked charming, and the odious under-Potain prowled about like a shadow, catching hold of me to prevent me from dancing.
Toward the end I am in love with Gabriel. He, Melissano, Alexis and others stay until five in the morning. I fall asleep thinking intensely of this twice-yearly flirtation, for we barely see each other more than twice a year; and this evening, after supper and perhaps even before — during the dancing [words blacked out: then preceded by the] cotillion... I know not what... As when passing through Berlin — true young-girl thoughts... throw myself into his arms...

— that is to say, marry him... seeing in it only the freedom to go off together wherever one wished. You can picture it. We have made each other mock-serious declarations twenty times, and this evening I tell him what I think of him: perfect, well-bred, charming, a little diplomat — but null, empty, hollow, nothing there. Laughing all the while. And yet a desire to go away with him, all considerations [words blacked out: of fortune and household] vanished before this childish whim.
But such things do not last with me; this morning [words blacked out: it all seems] distant and stupid — even disagreeable... And yet yesterday, for a moment, both of us serious, he took my hand and kissed it with a sincere air... And with the ravishing light of the studio: my hand was bare, I had an instant of juvenile flutter which [words blacked out: must have given a] childlike tinge, in cascades, to my usual conversations with this twenty-seven-year-old archangel — as when in Le monde où l'on s'ennuie by Pailleron [words blacked out: illegible] mad [blacked out: to see oneself as] a little girl again after the words of Royer, of Arthur, I can't remember exactly.
Maman is always so clumsy — she went to Saint-Amand's to ask him to distribute invitations to his friends... That is done, but not that way... These are so many things that upset me; I have been glum for three days over it.
Coquelin cadet came to collect his manuscript. He is irresistibly comic.
Melissano to dinner.