Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Monday, 23 October 1882

General consternation on Saturday morning. The Kotchoubeys send their apologies!
They will not be coming to the hunt — summoned by a telegram to a neighbouring estate. And I who had taken such trouble dressing! For you must know that having drunk bad milk I felt so sick that it was only by a great effort that I managed to put on that black velvet gown in which it is impossible to look ugly. Papa was green with rage and Maman crimson.
I laughed — and heartily.
In the end we set off anyway — in spite, with death in our hearts, swearing we would go no further than Michka's, where the horses were to be rested and who was waiting with a magnificent luncheon. Then, spirits somewhat calmed, we continued on our way — quarrelling every five minutes about turning back; [Word blacked out] we would stop in the middle of a field, Papa, Paul and Michka would climb down, and discussions would begin through the carriage window. To Michka they gave Maman's indisposition as a pretext.
At last, Papa having told our coachman to stop listening to us, we set off again — half laughing, half despairing. It is obvious that nobody can guess our mad scheme; one may well suppose we should be delighted if it came about, but nobody can imagine that I came as I did — only we who know the truth fear like thieves that it is written on our faces. Alexandre was waiting for us — and the princes too; I would not dare say he would not have cut back on expenses had he foreseen there would be only us and Michka, who must also have suffered a slight disappointment.
One cannot imagine what these two young scions represent in the imagination of people here. Alexandre had fetched three cooks from Kharkov — the famous Prosper from the club, no less....
In any case the hunt was magnificent — nine wolves killed and a fox. The weather was fine; we lunched in the open forest with more than four hundred peasants watching, having driven the game toward our guns... "Our guns" is a bit of boasting, for I fired at nothing, having seen nothing — the wolves broke left and I was positioned to the right, together with Papa, Michka and M. Garnitsky. I saw a fox, and it was not in range. Then drinks were given to the peasants. Ah! I forget my triumphal shot...
A peasant climbed to the top of a tree; a bottle of brandy was tossed to him, which he hung on the highest branch — after emptying it first, of course.
And each of us in turn amused ourselves by shooting at it — and broke off a piece, myself included.
Alexandre was bending over backwards to be agreeable, and showered me with flattery. Nadine too. Their son Etienne is a charming boy of fourteen, the top pupil of the gymnasium where he studies... As for the food and wines, nothing better could be asked. And then the estate is ravishing, the house admirably arranged — it is only now that I am in a state to understand how much of an artist our grandfather was, how intelligent, how superior, though buried in his village. The garden, the park, the ponds, the avenues — I would change nothing; what higher praise is there! The autumn and the ten years of neglect lend them a great charm.
Gavronzi is hideous by comparison...
The rooms here are so well arranged, so homely — one feels so at ease. The peasant women are beautiful, the people so picturesque... You will recall how much difficulty I had last year finding anything worth studying at Gavronzi. It is perhaps because I spent my childhood here... No — it is simply because it is adorable; as for memories, they are in a separate compartment. And the billiard-table — a little billiard-table that has been there since... Maman remembers it from her childhood, and I remember when I was shorter than it. I played the piano in the great white empty drawing room and thought of grandmother, who used to listen from the far end of her room at the extremity of the long, long corridor. If she had lived, she would be no more than sixty-five now! We dined in the middle of that same room in which her body lay in state for three days.
I do not know whether the others thought of it, but to me it meant something... Yet one forgets everything. Had she lived she would be so proud of me, so happy. Ah, if one could bring the old people back — how one would surround them with care.
Grandmother knew nothing but suffering — crushed by her husband and tormented, beaten by her eldest son whom she adored above all else in the world.
I do not remember very clearly, but it seems to me that she was far superior to Maman in spirit, and that she would have understood — and did understand — many things...
This evening we recapture one of those fine evenings as there used to be in Maman's heyday — fewer adorers, of whom she was always surrounded, but all the candles lit, all the doors open, seven great drawing rooms that seemed quite full though we are no more than sixteen.
Etienne played the piano — quite well — then there was a waltz, and Michka, hoisting the starovoï onto his shoulders, made three circuits of the room while waltzing. (The starovoï, the deputy starovoï and various small police-men [sic] who had supervised the hunt had been invited to dinner.)
Fireworks are set off, and to make the celebration complete a rocket sets fire to a wretched thatched henhouse. This provides everyone with the simulacrum of excitement at very little cost.
The men and women servants run like hares, buckets of water cross each other, everyone shouts — masters, guests — it is a race in the night with that flame, the trees; it was charming. We rush to the scene of the disaster in our white gowns and satin mules; otherwise I should have been in the thick of it like Michka and Papa and Paul and the policemen. Papa went right into the flames, saved all the chickens, and very likely ran some danger.
It was all so amusing... There was nothing to fear; [Crossed out: they climbed onto the two buildings on the right and on the left] and they drenched them with water to [Word blacked out: evacuate] them from the fire [Word illegible] — while saving the chickens, Papa noticed a very pretty servant girl in a spotted dress; it was as bright as full day. The starovoï was discovered dragging a girl behind the pump; and Alexandre distributed a few blows to right and left to those who were not running fast enough. Whereupon Trifon — who had entered his service and who was bound to come to this, you will recall his pranks in Paris and Nice — Trifon, who had climbed onto a shed roof, began beating a peasant who was helping him water down the straw. As for the wretched Jew who had made the fireworks and caused the disaster, he fled at full speed and spent the night at Paul's house, some half-hour away. Papa gave him three roubles for his journey the next day, but he preferred to cover the forty verstes [Words blacked out: clinging behind the landau, and this] barely mounted on a sort of piece of wood. We did not notice this passenger until halfway along, in the course of which we were engaged in conversations that led Michka to pay me a very great compliment to the Princess. It seems I was profound, witty, wise and full of heart. Amen.
In the midst of all this, Saint-Amand will receive the following telegram: "Monsieur, there is a strong wind and I have killed six wolves."

Notes

In English in the original. ↩
Starovoï: the village elder or headman. ↩
Verste: a Russian unit of distance, approximately 1.07 km. ↩