Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 1 February 1883

It is with some hesitation that I dress to go to the opening of the Watercolorists'. Fortunately Mmes Gavini and Randouin will be with us — alone with Maman... for nothing in the world.
Not to be greeted by Bastien, or some insult from some wicked woman that Mme de Bailleul spoke of. Mme de Bailleul is a sub-prefect's wife from the Empire who has launched herself into the gambling salons... It was at her place that we met la Bari, Bargigli, etc. — women one had to drop, enemies... She is old, fat, badly made, and considers herself young and beautiful! Powdered hair, healthy firm skin, and a waist as long as her head and twice as wide... In any case I think she is displeased because her friends take her about in their carriages and to the theatre, of which we have dropped them, and then we never produce her on chic days... In any case she frightened me, and my heart beats under the bodice of grey velvet... Oh! A charming outfit, all in grey velvet, hat as well. The bodice draped and fastened with two silver clasps. A lace jabot, grey shoes and stockings, and a radiant face from the moment of entering... For people look at me a great deal... It is so pleasant. An evening that heaven sends me as an adorable compensation...
Saint-Marceaux first... Having invited him without success I am rather cool, still under the spell of a certain agitation that this great artist with the Shakespeare head causes me; and he is rather gracious. I should so like to win him over! And why? Ah! There's the question... He is a man who works enormously and goes about in society very little... [Blacked-out words: but I understand him] — do I make social calls? Only when it gives me real pleasure...
— But you know, I shall invite you no longer...
— That is perhaps a way of making me come...
— We shall see about that...
And then Bastien... Ah! Bastien is entirely affectionate, kind, agreeable...
Ah! But I am so surprised to find him like this. It is like a ray of sunlight... I recover at once my assurance, my gaiety, my verve...
And I, who after four words exchanged had wanted to withdraw out of dignity... He almost held me back, on my honour; we talk for a few minutes. He has been ill — he is very pale, tired, something sad about him like a child...
He [blacked-out word: would very much like to come if he were allowed] to leave early... I expected him to bear me a grudge...
As for the architect, whom we see ten steps further on, he tells me that he was about to write me a long letter to invite himself with his brother, and we authorized them to...
— Ah! I have no need of you — I have just seen him himself.
— But I want to bring him to you...
— Henceforth I shall arrange things so that he comes on his own... I am pleased.
— He swore to me never to go without me...
— Ah! You want to pass in his shadow.
I would have gladly stayed longer... To see Saint-Marceaux again... But the Chamber is in continuous session — they are going to vote the expulsion of the princes or something to that effect... Perhaps a sitting until two in the morning... You can imagine whether we go, thinking all the while of Saint-Marceaux, who seemed not to see me while speaking to me, and of Bastien, who looked at me so well... Eyes that linger... You know what I mean... It seemed so to me perhaps. Why not — I am in beauty today.
You can imagine how happy those poor parliamentarians are to see four such elegant women arrive at eleven o'clock! Paul Leroux, Roy de Loulay, Gavini, Jolibois, and others are requisitioned, and we enter the President's gallery... I feel I am looking my best — moreover several people asked Gavini who these pretty women are... Odette's red plume and my grey feather... Odette is forty but still beautiful... The fine speeches are over; they vote, they vote, they vote; two speeches... One by Madier de Montjau — I like that old republican well enough... It is over at midnight. The Fabre law was voted... Absurd... To strip the princes of their ranks... Expel them or require renunciation.
In any case for this evening, that is not the question... I am delighted... Only I think Cassagnac did not see me. That is annoying... I would like to appear before him brilliant...
You know there is still only him... Yes, he is the future...
He is only thirty-nine, forty in December... One can wait... What a fine evening... The arts and politics and celebrated men... I come home like a madwoman... As in days gone by when enthusiasm and rapture came over me like this without sufficient cause...