[Illustration]

MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF

(From Childhood to Girlhood)

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCHBY MARY J. SAFFORD

PREFACE

THE SOUL OF A LITTLE GIRL

Marie Bashkirtseff, beginning at twelve years old, wrote her journalingenuously, sincerely, amusing us by her whims, thrilling us by herenthusiasms, touching us by her sufferings. 

We have gone through these note-books bound in white parchment, slightly discoloured, like the winding sheet in which sleeps amemory, and have already gathered a volume, precious, not because itdescribes such an entertainment or such an event, but because itreveals the mentality of a young girl. 

This time we have been especially interested by the first books, written in a large, unformed hand, dashing, variable, following thesuccessive impressions of a changeful, sensitive nature. 

Very few documents exist concerning children, in whom the nineteenthcentury alone began to interest itself. 

In fact the real personality of the child is very secret, for itdistrusts these comprehensive and authoritative beings, "grown-uppeople. " And it hides its ironical observations, its dreams, all theardour of its little soul. 

Children play. They have built, with sand and twigs, a fantasticworld peopled with their familiar toys: a grey cloth elephant, amulti-coloured duck as big as that white plush bear. And they are inthe jungle, tracking, hunting, killing. Then they dance round to asecret rhythm. Stop to look at them, the game will end. The littlemouths will become silent. The child will always hide the ingenuousobservations it makes with its clear eyes. 

Therefore it seems to us very interesting to show a little girl'sexistence, not told from the distance of past years, but written dayby day. Marie Bashkirtseff was a child of precocious intelligence, ardent will, extreme intensity of life. Maurice Barrès defines itsensibly in saying that she had, "when very young, amalgamated fiveor six exceptional souls in her delicate, already failing body. "

The nomad life led by her parents, residences in Paris, London, Nice, Rome, hastened the development of a vivid intelligence. 

This little "uprooted" girl accommodated herself to these variedlives with the versatility of children, but she knew how to reserveher personal life of study. It was a strange intellectual solicitudeof the little girl living among idle people and dreaming of"becoming somebody famous. " And, completely surrounded by refinedluxury, she knew how to see the humble folk, whose expressivefeatures she has inscribed in a way not to be forgotten in herpictures. 

If this journal reveals a precocious intellect, it preserves--andthis is its charm--a spontaneity of childhood--for the little Slavwas a bewitching little girl, with rosy cheeks and clear eyes. Hasshe not evoked all the marvellous imagination of the little ones inthese words: "Because I put on an ermine cloak, I imagine that I ama queen"?

Marie's sentimental life has greatly perturbed her biographers. Theyhave accused her of having a cold, indifferent heart. Others, morepenetrating, have seen that Marie considered love as a religion forwhich a god was necessary. Hence her dream as a young girl: "to lovea superior being. " And she wrote to Maupassant. 

Jean Finot has pointed out that there was something "infinitelytragical in the approach from a distance of these two sublime beingsalready stamped by death. " Besides, Marie did not know the novelist. 

Another person interested the young girl, Bastien-Lepage. Theirdouble death-struggle drew them together for a moment, and deathpermanently unites their names in our memory. 

So let us not seek the sentimental secret which Marie did not wishto reveal to us. Goncourt tells us the story of that Hokousaï whosigned "_An old man crazy to be conspicuous_. " Let us think thatMarie was also the _young girl crazy to be conspicuous_. 

But let us go back to an idyl little known of Marie's twelfth year. The fact itself is not very extraordinary. The little girl istraining herself for motherhood by lavishing caresses on wretchedpapier-mâché baby dolls. She is practising for her part of woman byplaying at being in love. Artless little affairs outlined in thecatechism, pervaded by the fragrance of incense. Very similar tothese appears to us the enthusiasm the little Slav felt for the Ducde H----. Candid, affectionate little girl, she says deliciously: "Ilove him, and that is what makes me suffer. Take away this grief, and I shall be a thousand times more unhappy. The pain makes myhappiness. I live for it alone. All my thoughts are centred there. The Duc de H---- is my all. I love him so much. That is a veryancient and old-fashioned phrase, since people no longer love. "

After such a passage of captivating vivacity, in which work andpleasures inflame this ardent vitality, other days, --numerous, alas!have the mere mention of a date followed by a dash. These are thestations of the disease when the charming body was weakening like adying flower. And there were the alternations of hope, thephysicians consulted when at first she believed everything, todoubt, later, all the remedies with which their pity beguilesanxiety, at last the resigned almost certainty:

"And, nevertheless, I am going to die. "

Should the shortness of her existence be regretted for Marie?Certainly, thoroughly in love, she would not have found happiness inmarriage, which fashionable society too often transforms into apartnership of egotisms, interests, and hypocrisy. But would notmaternity have consoled her, affording her a delicious refuge, herwho bent patiently over the faces of the very little children, expressed their fleeting occupations, their intent looks?

Sly death did not permit her to finish her destiny, and the littleSlav preserves for us her disturbing virgin charm. 

In that villa in Nice, where Marie Bashkirtseff lived, clearlyappears the vision of a young girl, harmonious in the whiteness ofher usual clothing, with a gaze sparkling with ardent life, her who, Maurice Barrès says, [A] "appears to us a representation of theeternal force which calls forth heroes in each generation and thatshe may seem of sound sense to us, let us cherish her memory underthe proud name of Our-Lady who is never satisfied. "

RENÉE D'ULMÉS. 

[Footnote A: _La Légende d'une cosmopolite_. ]

NEW JOURNAL OF MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF

JANUARY, 1873

(_Marie was then twelve years old_. )

I must tell you that ever since Baden I have thought of nothingexcept the Duc de H----. In the afternoon I studied. I did not goout except for half an hour on the terrace. I am very unhappyto-day. I am in a terrible state of mind; if this keeps on, I don'tknow what will become of me. 

How fortunate people who have no secrets are!

Oh, God, in mercy save me!

The face makes very little difference! People can't love just onaccount of the face. Of course it does a great deal, but when thereis nothing else--. They have been talking about B----. He hasexactly my disposition. I am fond of society; he likes to flirt; helikes to see and to be seen; in short, he is pleased with the samethings that please me. They say he is a gambler. Oh! dear! What evilgenius has changed him!

Perhaps he is in love--hopelessly?

Happy love ought to make us better, but hopeless love! Oh, I believeit must be that!

No, no, he is simply dragged down like so many young men by thatterrible gulf. Oh, what an accursed place! How many wretched beingsit has made! Oh, fly from it! Take your sons, your husbands, yourbrothers away from there, or they are lost. B---- is beginning. TheDuc de H---- has begun, too, and he will go on, while he might livehappily. Live and be useful to society. But he spends his time withwicked men and women. He can do it as long as he has anything, andhe used to be immensely rich. 

Dr. V---- has said that Mademoiselle C----[A] is ill, that she maylive five years or die in three weeks, because she is consumptive. How many misfortunes at once!

[Footnote A: Marie Bashkirtseff's governess. ]

If, when I am grown up, I should marry B---- what a life it wouldbe! To stay all alone, that is, surrounded by commonplace men, whowill want to flirt with me, and be carried away by the whirl ofpleasure. I dream of and wish for all these things, but with ahusband I love and who loves me--. 

Ah, who would suppose it was little Marie, a girl scarcely twelveyears old; who feels all this! But what am I saying? What a dismalthought! I don't even know him, and am already marrying him--howsilly I am!

I am really much vexed about all this. I am calmer now. Myhandwriting shows it. The spontaneous burst of indignation is alittle quieted. It is soothing to write or communicate one's ideasto somebody. 

B---- isn't worth while. I shall never marry him. If he begs me onhis knees, I shall be--oh, I forgot the word--I shall be firm. No, that isn't the word, but I know what I mean. Yet if he loves me verymuch, very deeply, if he cannot live without me--vain phrases! Donot let us meet. I don't wish to be weak. 

I am firm, I will be resolute. I mean to have the Duc de H----. Ilove him at least. His dissipated life may be forgiven him. But theother--no!

While writing I was interrupted by a noise. I thought some one wasgoing to surprise me. Even if what I have written were not seen, Ishould blush all the same. Everything I wrote previously now seemsnonsense. Yet it is really exactly what I felt. I am calm now. LaterI will read it over again. That will bring back the past. 

I love the Duc de H---- and I cannot tell him so. Even if I did, hewould pay no attention to it. O, God! I pray Thee! When he was here, I had an object in going out, in dressing. But now! I went to theterrace hoping to see him in the distance for at least a second. 

O God, relieve my suffering! I can pray to Thee no more. Hear mypetition. Thy mercy is so infinite. Thy grace is so great, Thou hastdone so many things for me! Thou hast bestowed so many blessingsupon me. Thou alone canst inspire him with love for me!

Oh, dear! I imagine him dead, and that nothing can draw him nearerto me. What a terrible thought! I have tears in my eyes, and stillmore in my heart. I am weeping. If I did not love him I mightconsole myself. He would suit me for a husband in every respect. Ilove him, and that is what makes me suffer. Take away this anguish, and I shall be a thousand times more miserable. My grief makes myhappiness. I live solely for that. All my thoughts, everything iscentred there. The Duc de H---- is my all. I love him so much! It isa very old-fashioned phrase, since people no longer love. Women lovemen for money, and men love women because they are the fashion or onaccount of their surroundings. 

I could not say, "On such or such a day I met a young man whom Iliked. " I do not know when I noticed him. I cannot even understandthese feelings, I cannot find expressions. I will only say, "I donot know when, I do not know how this love has come. It came becauseit probably had to come. " I should like to define this, yet Icannot. 

Now, if he were paying me attention, he would think he was doing mehonour, but then I should make him see that it is I who honour himby marrying him, because I am giving up all my glory. Yet whathappiness can be greater: To have everything--to be a childworshipped by its parents, petted, having all a child can have. Thento be known, admired, sought by the whole world, and have glory andtriumph every time one sings. And at last to become a duchess, andto have the duke whom I have loved a long while, and be receivedand admired by everybody. To be rich on my own account and throughmy husband; to be able to say that I am not a plebeian by birth, like all the celebrities--that is the life, that is the happiness Idesire. If I can become his wife without being a cantatrice, I shallbe equally well pleased, but I believe that is the only way I shallbe able to attract him. 

Oh, if that could be! My God! Thou hast made me find in what way Ishall be able to obtain what I ask. Oh! Lord! Aid me, I place all myhopes in Thee. Thou alone canst do all things, canst render mehappy. Thou hast made me understand that it is through my voice Ican obtain what I seek. Then it is upon my voice that I must fix allmy thoughts, I must cultivate, watch, and guard it. I swear toThee, O Lord, no longer to sing or scream as I used to do. 

On leaving the H----'s, I was wrapped in an ermine cloak. I thoughtI looked very well. If I became a duchess, a cloak like that wouldsuit me. I am growing too presumptuous. Because I put on an erminecloak, I imagine that I am a queen. 

Monday, our day. We have plenty of callers. I went in only a minuteto ask Mamma something, in my character of a little girl. Beforeentering I looked at myself in the mirror hanging there: I wasgood-looking, rosy, fair, pretty. 

Suppose I should write everything I think and everything I intend todo when I grow up, everything I mean to forget, and everything thatis extraordinary? A dinner service of transparent glass. On one sidea certain costume and arrangement of the hair; on the other side adifferent costume and a different arrangement of the hair, so thaton one side I shall be one person, and on the other side another. Togive a dinner by letters. I have determined to end this book, forextravagant ideas rarely come to me in these days. 

March 14th, 1873. 

I saw Madame V---- on the Promenade. I was so glad, not on her ownaccount--yes, a little, but because all these people remind me ofBaden. 

There I could see the Duc, because he spent nearly all his time outof doors, but it did me no good, for I was a child. If I could be atBaden _now_ for a summer! O, dear! When I think that Grandpapa madehis acquaintance in a shop. If I could have foreseen, I should havecontinued that acquaintance. 

I think only of him, I pray God to keep every trouble from him, protect, preserve him from every danger. 

All this time people talk about the Duc de H---- and it pleases meimmensely, if I don't blush. 

At last I can enjoy some bright weather on the Promenade. I haveseen everybody, and I am happy. An hour driving, then walking, butthe rain surprised us. 

In the evening we went to the theatre, which was filled withfashionable people. The W----'s were next to us. I talked about thesprings, horses, etc. To-day I have been reflecting. Not a momentmust be lost, every instant must be spent in study. Sometimes (I amashamed to confess it) I hurry through my lessons withoutunderstanding them, in order to finish more quickly, and I am gladwhen lessons are given me to review because, during the followingdays, I shall have less to do. 

I don't intend to behave so any longer. I must finish what I amlearning quickly, that I may begin serious studies, like those ofmen, and occupy myself more with music, commence lessons on the harpand singing. These are great plans. They are sensible ones, too. Arethey not?

March 30th, 1873. 

I have been dreaming of the Duc de H----. He wore three jackets ofthe queerest cut, and was at our house to look at my pictures. Headmired them, and I talked with him. I was very much agitated, andcould scarcely conceal it. He talked with me very pleasantly, andspoke of B----. He said:

"I was talking with her. I made her sit down and I spoke of you. "

Oh! he talked to her about me, and it was on my account that hespoke to her! How happy I am! At last my prayer is granted! Then hebrought some kind of paper or something, I don't know exactly what, to ask for an address to get clothes, I believe. He was in the largedrawing-room, talked to me in low tones, encouraged me by his frankmanners, then I saw mountains on the pictures at which he waslooking. It is strange that I felt nothing extraordinary, and I wasless excited than when I am awake. 

I was happy, I was calm and content. 

These transports overwhelm me at the mere sight of his name, for Iam not sure of my happiness, and I ardently desire it. But when wehave what we desire and love, we are calm. So, in my dream I wascalm, for I no longer had anything to desire. I said nothing, inorder not to interrupt my happiness. I let myself go gently andquietly. 

What was my surprise to find, on waking, that all this happiness wasonly a dream! I spoke of it to members of the family, I laughed atmyself, to conceal my joy and my love for him. He talked with metenderly. Not exactly, but I know what I mean. He was not preciselylike himself, smaller and not so handsome. I thought I had reachedport, but, on waking, I find myself in the open sea and in the midstof the tempest, as I was yesterday and shall be for a long time, perhaps, until he comes to lead me on board. That is a commonplacephrase, but it well expresses what I wish to say and I use it. Thenan hour's practice on the piano. Then to the Promenade. Mademoiselle de G---- wore a broad-brimmed grey felt hat, turned upat one side. O, how I would like a hat like that! It is so graceful. I would like a hat like that, and the same style of gown. It bringsback the young ladies of former days, tall, well-formed, slender, beautiful. One would say that I am raving over a gown as I do overthe man I love. 

Tuesday, April 8th. 

I had a geography lesson to-day. While looking for a city inAmerica, my eyes were attracted by this tragical name: H---- islandin the Arctic Ocean. It seemed as if a thunderbolt had struck me, Idid not feel the earth under my feet. My heart beat violently, I wascompletely upset. Can I doubt that I love him? If he knew it! But, with God's assistance he will know it some day. God is so good. Hehas given me all I have possessed up to the present moment. 

 * * * * *

Mademoiselle C---- scolded me to-day because people looked at me toomuch on the Promenade. While returning from church we talked aboutreligion--then went on to the Duc de H----. Mademoiselle C---- said:

"What associates he has! To-day he is with the H----'s. "

I want to describe conversations better. The Duc de H---- wasdiscussed. I defended him warmly, but I have seen that I went toofar. 

Good Friday. 

At church, when we went to kiss the tomb of Christ, I looked at allthe faces and suddenly _his_ appeared as if he were there inperson. Never has it presented itself so distinctly. This time I sawit as if it were himself. At this apparition my heart beatviolently, and I began to pray. I wanted to recall this belovedface, but in vain. I no longer see it. 

At this vision, an idea came to me. There were a great many flowersnear the tomb. I took a daisy. The flower is holy, it was near ourSaviour. It will tell me whether our desires will be realised. Witha throbbing heart, I pulled off petal after petal. Yes--no--O, God!I thank Thee! I believe this prediction, it is holy!

I don't want to wait any longer. I shall die if I stay in thisfurnace. It is too warm. Knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Ibelieve that, it is my consolation. We are going to Vienna Saturday, but Mamma will stay. There is no pleasure without pain. That is agreat truth. So we shall start Saturday, I, my aunt, Dina, andPaul. 

July 29th, 1873. 

During the journey the most open-hearted gaiety did not cease toreign among us. O, how disagreeable Italy is on account of theItalians, how dirty they are! We wanted to take a bath, and I didnot expect to have such luck in an Italian hotel in Genoa. I wasgreatly surprised when they brought it to me. 

At ten o'clock we at last reached our destination. We went to theGrand Hotel. Everything is magnificent. I am pleased with it. Iwanted to take a bath. It is too late. 

We all went to the Exposition and saw a part of Germany, England, and France. The costumes were heavenly. 

That is the way I shall dress later. How beautiful art can renderfinery! I adore dress, because it will mate me pretty and givepleasure to the man I love, and I shall be happy. Then dress bestowsParadise upon earth. 

The Russian pavilion is extremely beautiful, everything is fine. Webreakfasted at the Russian restaurant. It is neither restaurant norRussian. It is a sort of German beer-hall. The servants are dressedin red, a perfect caricature. It isn't surprising that Russiansshould be taken for Turks. I am having a good time to-day. The firsttwo it seemed as though I was in a lethargy. That happens to mesometimes. It is over now. The Italian statues are very original. There are some remarkable expressions of face. 

Say what you like, our native land is always our native land. Everything that is Russian in the pavilion is beautiful. I lookedeagerly. There were Russian names on the goods. My eyes filled withtears. 

At seven o'clock, we went to hear the band. There were a great manypeople, the music was very captivating, thoroughly Viennese. Whenthis orchestra stopped, another began. All sorts of persons, membersof the imperial family, fashionable ladies, young dandies, a whirlof gaiety. 

The Viennese climate is delicious, not like Nice, which is burninghot in summer. 

At last! We are leaving! We are in the train. There is no time tocollect one's thoughts. We pass cities, cottages, huts, and in eachdwelling people are talking, loving, quarrelling, bestirringthemselves. Every human being whom we see, smaller than a fly, hashis joys and sorrows. We are talking so much of Baden. We shallpass through it to-morrow. I should like to go there. 

At five o'clock in the morning I was waked. We were approachingParis. I dressed quickly, but there were fifty minutes to spare. Wewent to the Grand Hotel. 

Paris is comical in the morning. Nothing to be seen except butchers, pastry cooks, boot-makers, restaurant keepers, opening and cleaningtheir shops. 

Toward noon, I was not only settled, but ready to go out. In Paris Iam at home, everything interests me; instead of being lazy, I am intoo great a hurry. I should like not only to walk, but to fly. Iwanted to make myself believe that there was society in Vienna, butthat is impossible. The hotel is full of a very good sort of Englishpeople. We are going to Ferry's. I took the address in Vienna. Weshall buy two pairs of boots, one black, the other yellow. 

We went on foot. I ordered some gloves. I dress myself. My allowanceis 2, 500 francs a year. I received 1, 000 francs. Then we took a caband went to Laferrière's. I ordered a tête-de-nègre costume (threehundred francs). 

"Here comes the Duc de H----. Don't jump out of the carriage. " Myaunt looked at me sternly. This evening I asked myself if I reallydid love the Duc, or if it was imagination. I have thought of him somuch that I fancy things which do not exist--I might marry somebodyelse. I imagine myself the wife of another. He speaks to me. Oh! no, no! I should die of horror! All other men disgust me. In the street, at the theatre, I can endure them, but to imagine that a man maykiss my hand drives me wild!

I don't express myself well, I never know how to explain myself, but I understand my own feelings. 

To-night we are going to the theatre. This is Paris! I can't believethat I am here. This is the city from which all the books are taken. All the books are about Paris, its salons, its theatres, it is theperfection of everything. 

At last I have found what I have desired without knowing it. To liveis Paris--Paris means to live!

I was tormenting myself because I did not know what I wanted. Now Isee it before me. I know what I want. To move from Nice to Paris. Tohave an apartment, furnish it, have horses as we do in Nice. To gointo society through the Russian ambassador. That, that is what Iwant. 

How happy we are when we know what we want! But an idea has come tome--I believe I am ugly. It is frightful!

To-day is the first time we have seen the Bois, the Jardind'Acclimatation, and the Trocadéro, from which we had a view of allParis. Really, I have never in my life beheld anything so beautifulas the Bois de Boulogne. It is not a wild beauty, but it is elegant, sumptuous. 

Since Toulon, I have been the prey of a great sorrow. All places areindifferent to me, except Paris, which I adore, and Nice. 

At last! We have reached this spot. Princess G----and W---- met us. 

Mamma was not there. We asked for her and were told that she was alittle indisposed. The truth is that she fell out of bed and hurther leg. We arrived. I made her sit in the dining-room. An arrivalis always confused. People talk and answer, all speaking at once. 

During my absence a little negro boy was engaged, who will go outwith the carriage. I cannot look through the window. I can't bearthis pale foliage, this red earth, this heavy atmosphere! So Mammasaid that we will stay in Paris! Heaven be praised!

We were summoned to dinner, but first I arranged my room. Then Iwent back to the drawing-room, where Mamma was lying. We talked andlaughed, I told what I had seen, in short, we discussed everything. I fear Mamma will be seriously ill. I shall pray to God for her. Iam glad to be back in my chamber, it is pretty. To-morrow I mean tohave my bed all in white. That will be lovely. 

I regard Nice as an exile. I intend to occupy myself specially inarranging the days and hours of tutors. 

With winter will come society, with society, gaiety. It will not beNice, but a little Paris. And the Races! Nice has its good side. Allthe same, the six or seven months which must be spent there seemlike a sea I must cross without turning my eyes from the light-housewhich guides me. I do not expect to approach, no, I only hope to seethis land, and the sole thing which gives me resolution and strengthto live until next year. Afterward! Really, I know nothing about it!But I hope, I believe in God, in His divine goodness, that is why Idon't lose courage. Whoever lives under His protection will findrepose in the mercy of the Omnipotent One. He will cover thee withHis wings. Under their shelter thou wilt be in safety. His truthwill be thy shield, thou wilt fear neither the arrows that fly bynight; nor the pestilence that wastes by day! I cannot express howdeeply I am moved and how grateful I am for God's goodness towardme. 

September 12th, 1873. 

This morning I made a scene with Mamma and my aunt. I could stand itno longer, the bottle had to be opened, there was too much gas init. I wept. It lasted two hours and a half. 

I asked forgiveness. Just at that moment some one said that a houseon the Rue de France was burning. I ran to see it. We were all atthe windows. The carriages were brought from the stables, women cameout carrying children. The building was not yet in flames. There wasa courtyard surrounded by four sheds filled with hay. The fireflared high, but the people in Nice are always the same. They donothing to subdue it, only stand at a distance to enjoy thespectacle. 

Oh! if it were in Russia, it would have been extinguished long ago. Our fire engines are terrible when they are heard a league away, every quarter has one. The firemen in golden helmets and lots oflittle bells. (The noise the Duc de H----'s carriage makes comingfrom a distance reminds me of the fire engines. )

At last, after half an hour, a cart arrived, dragged by ten men, what a mere nothing! And four soldiers with guns. 

No doubt they were going to extinguish the fire with them! But itwas out before they came. 

So I return to what I was saying: A complete reform in my costumeand character, I will become kind, pleasant, gentle. I will try tobe the good genius of the house. 

I want to make myself loved and esteemed by every one, from themeanest beggar to the duke and king. This is the promise I make toGod. Since I desire so great a happiness, I must deserve it. That isthe way I hope to obtain it. 

Therefore I make a solemn vow to God that I will do what I say. If Ifail once in my oath, I shall lose everything. I will address myselfto the Holy Virgin and pray her, with Her Son, to guide and protectme. 

I rose at five o'clock to-day. I have worked well, I am satisfiedwith myself. How happy we are when we are content with ourselves!All the rest matters little; we find everything, satisfactory, weare happy. My happiness depends upon myself. I have only to studywell. 

September 15th, 1873. 

I spoke Italian to-day for the first time. Poor M. (my professor)almost fell in a faint, or threw himself out of the window. I cansay that I speak English, French, Italian, and am learning Germanand Latin. I am studying seriously. Day before yesterday I took myfirst lesson in physics. Oh, how well pleased with myself I am!

I have received the _Derby_. I found a number of horses entered bythe Duc de H----. The races at Baden! How I should like to be there. Nothing prevents me, but I will not go. I must study. And with aheavy heart I read of the horse races. I calm myself with greatdifficulty and comfort myself by saying: "Let us study; our turnwill come, if it is God's will. "

I have read this journal. My eyes are glittering, my hands arefrozen. There is no doubt of it. I adore, I adore--horses. They aremy life, my soul, my happiness. By chance I shook my whip. There wasthe same hissing sound as at the races. I jumped. I no longer knowwhere I am. Come; it mustn't be talked about. 

September 20th. 

Only at five o'clock I am free, and I am going to the city with thePrincess and Dina. In the French lesson I read Sacred History, theTen Commandments of God. It says we must not make unto ourselvesgraven images of anything that is in the heavens. The Latins and theGreeks were wrong, they were idolaters who worshipped statues andpaintings. I, too, am very far from following this method. I believein God, our Saviour, the Virgin, and I honour some of the saints, not all, for there are some that are manufactured like plum cakes. May God forgive this reasoning if it is wrong. But in my simple mindthis is the way things are and I cannot change them. 

Shall I ever believe that God has commanded a tabernacle to be builtto have His oracle heard from the ark in it? No, no! God is toogreat, too sublime for these unbearable Pagan follies. I worship Godin everything. People can pray everywhere, and He is everywherepresent. 

I went to the city for a turn on the Promenade. In the evening weplayed kings again, but the game isn't sufficiently interesting. Weplayed like amateurs. For all that I had a good time and laughedheartily. 

G---- came and--I no longer remember in what connection--said thathuman beings are degenerate monkeys. He is a little fellow who getshis ideas from Uncle N----. 

"Then, " I said to him, "you don't believe in God?" He: "I canbelieve only what I understand. "

Oh, the horrid fool! All the boys who are beginning to growmoustaches think like that. They are simpletons who believe thatwomen cannot reason and understand. They regard them as dolls whotalk without knowing what they are saying. With a patronising mannerthey let them go on. He has doubtless read some book he did notunderstand, whose passages he recites. He proves that God could notcreate because at the poles bones and frozen plants have been found. Then these lived, and now there are none. 

I say nothing against that. But was not our earth convulsed byvarious revolutions before the creation of man? We do not takeliterally the statement that God created the world in six days. Theelements were formed during ages and ages. But can we deny God whenwe look at the sky, the trees, and men themselves? Would we not saythat there is a hand which directs, punishes, and rewards--the handof God?

October 5th. 

We went with Paul to a secluded part of the garden to shoot. Myhands trembled a little when, for the first time in my life, I tooka loaded gun, especially because Mamma was so frightened. I chose apumpkin twenty paces away for a target, and shot capitally. Thewhole charge was in the pumpkin. The second time I fired at a pieceof paper twenty centimetres square, again I hit, and a third time aleaf. Then I grew very proud and smiling. All fear disappeared andit seems as if I had courage enough to go to war. 

I carried the pumpkin, the paper, and the leaf in triumph to show toMamma, who is very proud of me. 

Really, what harm is there in shooting? I need not become on thataccount one of those detestable men-women with spectacles, masculinecoats, and canes. To fire a gun will not prevent my being gentle, lovable, graceful, slender, vaporous (if I may use the word), andpretty. 

While shooting I am a man; in the water a fish; on horseback ajockey; in a carriage a young girl; at an evening entertainment acharming woman; at a ball a dancer; at a concert a nightingale withnotes extra low and high like a violin. I have something in mythroat which penetrates the soul, and makes the heart leap. 

Seeing me with the gun, no one would imagine I could be indolentand languishing at home. Yet, sometimes, when I undress in theevening, I put on a long black cloak which half covers me and sitdown in an armchair. I seem so weak, so graceful (which I am inreality) that again no one would imagine I could shoot. 

I am a rarity. I shall be highly educated, _if God wills that Ishould live and blesses me_. I am perfectly formed, my face ispretty enough, I have a magnificent voice, intellect, and I shallbe, withal, a woman. Happy the man who will have me. He will possessthe earthly Paradise! Provided that he knows how to appreciate me!

I lack everything here, and yet I adore Nice. We always love whatdoes not love. _Sic factae sumus_. Everywhere else I am visiting, atNice I am at home, and the proverb says: However well off we may bewhile visiting, we are better off at home. Nice! Nice! Thou ingrate!

I adore Nice and admire it from my window. I am happy and animated. Why? I don't know. After all--Ah! let me alone! The cards tell thetruth, I believe in the cards; they have always said yes to me. Imust have an occupation, I am of a warlike disposition. I am readyfor everything. I ask only an idea. No doubt I shall be depressedto-morrow, for this evening I am certainly on stilts. 

The tower clock is striking nine. Lovely tower; lovely I! Ah! H----. 

October 8th, 1875. 

We went to N----'s. The good woman vexed and made me laugh at thesame time. 

"The first thing to be done in Rome, " said Mamma, "is to getteachers of singing and painting. "

"Yes, " I replied, "and I am going to visit the galleries. "

"But what will you do there?" asked Madame S----. 

"Why, copy, study. "

"Oh, but you are so far from that point, " she said earnestly. 

You understand, this foolish woman judges me in that way; but pshaw. What do I care? Yet put yourself in my place, and you willcomprehend my annoyance, my irritation. 

The good God is cruel. He gives me nothing. To ask the simplest, the most possible thing, to ask it as a mercy, as a happiness, tobelieve in God, to pray to Him, and to have nothing! Oh! I can seepeople scoffing at me because I bring God into everything. Thepoorest thing, by resistance, gains value! My ugly temper givesimportance to everything. No, frankly, I must become sensible andmount on my pedestal, raise myself above my troubles. Has it everhappened that everything goes wrong with you? The hair dressesbadly, the hat tilts every minute, the flounce on my skirt tearseach step I take, pebbles get into my slippers, cutting through mystockings, and prick my feet. 

I returned exasperated, and that horrid dog, F----, leaped joyfullyupon me. I went upstairs and it pursued me with its caresses. I keptmy patience, but when I reached my room I gave it a kick, and it ranhowling under my bed, but after a couple of minutes came back, wagging its tail, and looking at me as if asking my pardon. Oh, thedog! the dog!

No, never shall I be understood!

I should like to have whoever reads my words be myself for aninstant in order to understand me, people cannot comprehend whatthey do not feel, to do so it is necessary to be myself!--and alsomyself in my lucid moments. 

M---- is seventeen to-day, and we lunched at W----'s. I was horriblybored. Imagine running down a long corridor, so long that you cannotsee the end, springing forward and finding only a delusion, comingwith your outstretched hands against a wall. That is I!

I rate myself above everything, and the idea that I am placed on thesame level with any one, that people do not consider me differentfrom the rest of the world, the bare idea makes me angry. I wishthem to forget, to trample everything under foot, to scorn anddestroy all that has preceded me--I desire that there should benothing before, nothing after--except the remembrance of me. Thenonly I should be content. 

When an opportunity offers, I will express my meaning fully. 

 * * * * *

I went out with neither pleasure nor eagerness. N---- and herchildren were going to walk, and we enlarged their party. 

"Ah! if you knew how I have treated the human race this morning, " Isaid to M---- in answer to a remark I no longer remember. 

"Ah! if you knew how little it cares! it is a matter of noimportance, " replied M----, very wittily. 

How dreary it is to have nobody to care for!

My head is heavy and my eyes are closing, yet at the same time Iwant to write more, the pen glides easily over the paper and, thoughI might have nothing to say, I go on for the pleasure of filling thewhite pages and hearing the pleasant scratching of the pen. 

 "My head is heavy and my eyelids close, Yet still my gliding pen I will not stay, Fain would I tell all my heart's joys and woes, But cannot--though so much have I to say. "

I am not successful with serious poetry. 

Sunday, October 10th, 1875. 

I was going to talk with my aunt, but why appeal to human beings?What can men do? God alone can help! God does not hear me! Just God!Holy Virgin! Jesus! I am not worthy to be heard, but I pray you forit on my knees, I pray so earnestly! Is not prayer a merit, howeversmall it may be? Do not the most unworthy obtain what they askthrough prayer? Is it nothing to believe and to turn to God? Andthough I should write until to-morrow I could say nothing but thewords:

"My God, have pity on me!"

 * * * * *

I who thought I must succeed in everything, see that I am failingeverywhere. I shall never console myself for it. How everything inthis world repeats itself! I went lately to the Aquaviva terrace andlooked to the right. It was in winter, and the mist was gathering onthe Promenade. I saw the Duc de H---- go into G----'s, and now it isprecisely the same thing, only then I ordered myself to love him, and now I forbid myself to love. 

Then I was crazy over the man; now he interests me because he lookedat me. 

In a word, why and how? What do the reasons matter? I do not lovehim. Oh, but I am so provoked! "Come, " I said, "rouse yourself, Iwon't cry about that. "

To straighten myself, throw back my head, smile scornfully, thenindifferently, and that is all; moisten the ropes, as they did inmoving the obelisk of Sixtus Quintus, and I shall be on mypedestal--and I have not an instant's strength. I preferred to stayin my armchair and murmur:

"I fail in everything now. "

Confess, you who will read these lines, am I a man? Confess that Ihave reason to be angry over it. 

I, the queen, the goddess. I, who should be worshipped kneeling; I, who do not want to move my little finger lest I should bestow toomuch honour; I with my ideas; I with my ambition; I with my pride! Iconfess that, after having seen him go into G----'s like a master, Ifeel a sort of respect for him; he acts the duke. 

This evening "_Alice de Nevers_, " a comic opera by Hervé, was givenfor the first time. Our box had been engaged a long while, firstproscenium at the right. I was dressed with more care than usual;hair arranged in Marie Antoinette style, without the powder. Thewhole was drawn up, even the fringe in front. I left only a fewlittle locks at each side. My beautiful white forehead, thus bared, gave me a royal air, and at the back I let two curls hang, wavedjust at the end. 

Gown of dove-grey taffeta and a white fichu. In short, MarieAntoinette in miniature. I felt well satisfied, and gazed at thebase multitude from the height of my grandeur. Lighting _a giorno_. I was looked at quite enough. 

He could not help staring at me like the rest. Everybody came to ourbox. 

At every intermission I went to the back, so that I would not haveto turn my head at each visit. Just as the curtain was rising thePrefect's son and A---- entered our box. I received them withperfect ease; he has a foreign air. 

"What, Mademoiselle, are you really going away?"

"Oh, yes, Monsieur. "

"No, no, " he said, as if he had been pricked by a pin, "Mademoiselleshall not go. "

I did not deign to answer. I was courteous, agreeable, but cold. Heturned and asked me if I always gave trouble. 

"Yes, always. "

 * * * * *

We are going to the S----'s. I do not see M----. She is shut up athome. This is what has happened--during the two months since theC---- family arrived from Mexico, he has no longer written to her. 

I know that people who say what I have just said are not popular. Weprefer those who, like Dina, veil what they know by a falsesentiment of sham delicacy and misplaced pity. 

Listen carefully to these commonplace, but true words. C---- desertsyou. Write him a letter full of pride and withdraw with honour. 

I am very sorry for M----. C----will leave Europe in three days. 

Poor M----. This is what it means to love with the heart. Iunderstood at once when she told me that C---- had not written toher for so long. On account of anonymous letters he received;because he thought that he no longer loved her. I instantlycomprehended his object. I am frantic for her, when I think what asatisfied face the booby will take with him to Mexico! And that poorgirl has been crying ever since this morning. I am pleased. Iforesaw everything, we must hold ourselves proudly, especially whenthe man wants to draw back. He invents excuses, and the poor womanbelieves she is deserving of reproach, and this, that, and the otherthing, while in reality she has no cause for blaming herself. Ialways try to protect myself against every affront. 

"Yes, " said Mamma, "I was told that you received him yesterday fromthe summit of your grandeur. "

"Not only yesterday, " my aunt interrupted, "but for a long timepast. "

"That is true, " I replied; "otherwise I should never console myself, for he has wounded me by confounding me with other young ladies. "

"How glad I am that we have no C---- in our house, " remarked Mamma. "My daughter is pure and free from any love. "

"Oh! oh!" said my aunt. 

 * * * * *

Oh, women, women, you will always be the same. 

Learn to behave yourselves, wretched sex! See how man marchesstraight on, without fear, without reproach, and without beingafraid of wounding you; he abuses you, and you endure and bowbefore it. Oh, you men, if you read this, know that I am grieved tothe bottom of my heart to allow you so much importance, but it wouldbe both bad taste and bad tactics to decry your worth; the value ofour enemies enhances our own. What credit is it to conquer dunces?Know, you who wear trousers, know that in me you have a foe. I takepleasure in magnifying you men in order to maintain in myself thenoble ardour which animates me. 

Saturday, October 23d, 1875. 

I forgot to tell my yesterday's dream. I saw some mice, againstwhich I threw cats that choked them. Then these mice became serpentsand went into their holes, while the cats rushed upon me, especiallyone that scratched my right leg. It is a bad dream. Ah! yes;malediction! I see that there is nothing good for me in this world. Why do you want to live when everything fails, everything goeswrong? We have courage up to a certain point, we make ourselvesbold, we hope, but a moment comes when we have strength no longer. 

Well! Jeer at me, you hardened people. What! you will say, you dareto utter such words, when your mother is living, when you have anaunt who worships you, a mother who obeys you, a fortune at yourcommand, when you are neither infirm nor ill. You are tempting God. 

That is what you will tell me, and I shall answer that life is madeup of little things as the body is formed of molecules. When all themolecules decay and go to the Old Nick, the body can no longer live. It is the same with life when all that composes it, colours it, makes it lovable, is lacking, turns out badly, when everythingescapes, when not the slightest wish is realised, when everythingvanishes, everything deceives. No, to go on in this way isimpossible. So I believe that God will recall me soon. It is not invain that two mirrors were broken this year. People will say thatwhen we are young, we often feel a desire to die, but that isnonsense. I have no desire to die; but I foresee my own death, for alife so useless, so miserable, cannot last. 

I have interrupted myself ten times to weep and to think of thissummer; when I compare it with the present I am thoroughly wretched. How many lost illusions! What hopes deceived! And I am rid of them. I was going to say that my heart is torn, but it is not true; myheart is whole, my mind is embittered, and deceptions destroy man. Let us surround our hearts with triple brass. I will trouble myselfno more about this man. I will no longer think of him, I will nolonger speak of him as before, I forbid myself to do it. 

October 24th, 1875. 

I boasted of my conduct yesterday; there was no reason for it; if Iappeared indifferent it was because I was indifferent. These peopledon't know how to talk; the Arts, history, one doesn't even heartheir names. I feel that I am gradually growing stupid. I am doingnothing. I want to go to Rome--to take up my lessons again. I ambored. I feel myself being gradually enveloped in the spider's webwhich covers everything here, but I am struggling, I am reading. 

At the theatre P---- with R----, her good friend, as they say inNice, began to yawn when she saw all the people in our box. 

Why do women yawn when they are jealous and curious? My mother hasnoticed it a hundred times, and I, too, in my short life. 

Wretched feminine position! Men have all the privileges, women haveonly that of waiting their good pleasure. 

I should be quite proud if I could make myself really loved by thisman. 

Wild, reckless, ruined, vicious, fickle, brutalised by associationwith wicked women! His feelings of delicacy, of true love, ofvirtue, which are the bloom of the human heart, have been earlyswept away from him. The desire for money holds the first place, money to lead a gay life, to support the riffraff he has in histrain. 

How much women are to be pitied! It is the man who first takesnotice, it is the man who asks to be introduced, it is the man whomakes the first advances, it is the man who gives the invitation todance, it is the man who pays attention, it is the man who offersmarriage. The woman is like this paper, this nice paper on which wewrite whatever we please. God does not hear me, yet I will not doubtGod. Often a desire to do it seizes possession of me, but I am veryquickly punished. 

Pshaw! Life is an ugly thing!

 * * * * *

Before dinner we went to walk, it was wonderful moonlight. I said athousand foolish things to O----, and if Dina and M---- were ascrazy as we, a great scandal would have happened, for we wanted todance a ring around a priest who was passing. 

O---- is writing a novel, it appears. After dinner we went in searchof her; I shut myself up with her, and the good girl read it. But atthe second page I stopped her and proposed that we should write onetogether. I gave the idea, everything, everything, and the girlimagines she is composing too. It would be the story of Dumas withthe _Tour de Nesle_, but I shall not assert my rights, I am givingher a love scene for to-morrow. She makes no pretensions, and asksfor ideas, details, and love scenes with perfect simplicity. 

As for me, I set to work and, at one dash, wrote the first chapter, in which my hero bursts open a door and leaps through the window. 

People are doing me the honour to busy themselves very much aboutme, to gossip a great deal over me. Haven't I always desired it?

My journal is suffering because I have begun to write a novel, and Ishall succeed. Thank Heaven, I am capable of doing everything Iwish. Two chapters in two days is going on finely. I have read it toDina, and my story interests her. But I am able to judge for myselfpersonally, and I believe it will go. 

While we were walking, surrounded by a group of young men, I washappy, proud, and of what? I am little and vain; I took good care toexpress a wish to return to the carriage, before my cavaliersdesired to leave. They even begged me to take another turn. That wasall right. They escorted me to the landau. 

Monday, November 15th, 1875. 

All day long the day of the opera I was restless. 

At half past eight o'clock we set off. I was dressed in a whitemuslin gown, a plain skirt with a wide ruche around the bottom, Marie Stuart waist, and hair arranged to match the costume. A verypretty auditorium. Everybody admired me. Toward the middle of theentertainment, I began to feel as lovely as possible. In going out Ipassed between two rows of gentlemen who stared at me till theireyes bulged, and they didn't think me bad-looking, one could seethat. My heart swelled with pride and joy. Léonie came to undressme, but I sent her away and shut myself up. As I entered I suddenlysaw myself in the glass. I looked like a queen, a portrait that hadcome down from its frame. I no longer had to say: "Ah! if I dressedas people used to do--" I _was_ dressed as people used to do. I wasbeautiful. 

It always seems as if others did not see me as I am. How unfortunatethat, instead of these little black letters, I could not trace myportrait as I was--my wonderful complexion, my golden hair, my eyesso dark at night, my mouth, my figure! Those who saw me know how Ilooked. 

While remaining simple, as suits one of my age, barely beyondchildhood, I was gowned like a grown person. That is where thedifficulty lies--to be like a grown person and yet not extravagantand overdressed. 

Later I felt very unhappy and began to sing: "Knowst thou the land?"and fell on my knees, weeping. Why? It is a relief to lie on theground. Because, in the last scene, a love scene, P---- had in hervoice--it gave one a thrill--I would die for the truth--andjoyfully. 

This is it, he who slays with the sword shall perish by the sword. 

It seems as if I had loved. I feel in despair; I don't know why, butit was a torturing feeling and made me weep. 

Tuesday, November 16th, 1875. 

I left Nice to-day with my aunt, I was ready to cry every instant. 

"Do you want a pillow?" she asked. 

"No. "

"Are you ill?"

"No. "

"But you look so pale. "

"I am tired. "

"You must be ill; where do you feel pain?"

"Everywhere!--Come, Aunt, don't disturb me, I am composing. "

"Ah!"

"Oh! there is nothing like the rolling of a carriage to give ideas. "

"Aha! That's different; well, well, I didn't know. "

And she left me to compose at my ease. Then, after a silence:

"Why did A---- turn so pale when P---- began to sing: 'Knowst thouthe land?'"

"How could you have seen? For my part, I can never notice whether aperson turns pale or blushes. "

"Yes, you, because you can't see at a distance, but I can. He turnedas white as a sheet when she sang: 'There would I fain live!'"

"I saw nothing. "

Wednesday, November 17th, 1875. 

Many things have changed since Monday. I don't wish to die, nomatter where and no matter how, and I have since been ashamed ofmyself. I meant to trifle with the man, and it seems as if the manwas trifling with me. This insult, joined to the wrath I feel for myweakness Monday, makes me detest him. 

At six o'clock we arrived without having secured any accommodationsat the Grand Hotel, so we took rooms at the Hôtel Splendide. 

"Is it worth while to choose for a hero a miserable Nice scamp likethat A----?" said my aunt, "and to write a lot of stuff about him?"

Certainly my aunt understands nothing of the matter, and that isvery fortunate. I do think of him, and yet if he loved me, I wouldnot consent to be his wife. No one in the household considered hima suitable match. They noticed him because I was interested in him. They talked about him because they saw it gave me pleasure, yet if Isaid I wanted to marry him they would think me crazy, would raise aloud outcry, for they are dreaming of a throne for me. So I don'twant to marry him. I only say I am jealous; that is why I am goingto Rome. If I stayed in Nice I could not work; I should only tormentmyself. Since knowing him, since he has paid me attention, mystudies have suffered greatly, especially since it has seemed to me, and I am almost sure of it, that he is not madly in love with me, Ihave not been able to read a book or practise an hour on the piano. 

Paris, November 18th, 1875. 

Tired enough, finery will use me up, me and my money. But that iswhy I came to Paris, and we must do things conscientiously. I neednot say that I am not having anything made in colours, everything iswhite. 

I feel sad, unnerved, I should like to smile and to weep. No, really, love is full of interest. 

I was in good spirits this evening, I talked with my aunt, andcomplained of M---- A----. She answered that M---- A---- was a girlof the street, a worthless creature. I declared that she deservedevery punishment for having, without knowing me, from mere gossip, formed a bad opinion of me and basely slandered me. Seizing a sheetof paper, I wrote:

"Contemptible old creature, your daughter no longer loves G----, she loves a door-keeper in the Théâtre Italien, who is a veryhandsome fellow. "

I sent this to D----, who is going to mail it as if it came fromNice. 

I wanted to howl this morning, but it would be too much like thedogs--I sigh and I laugh, which is amusing. 

"Good Heavens, " I said to my aunt yesterday, "do you suppose I couldbe in love? What I want is wealth. If my heart beats, it is when Isee superb carriages, magnificent horses; if I am agitated, it iswith the longing to have all these things. 

"No, Madame, even if I loved any one, the luxury here would cure mevery quickly. You don't know me, or you pretend not to know me. "

I never spoke more truthfully; my aunt believed me, and began tocomfort me; to calculate, to try to have money enough to satisfy mywants. 

I worship people when they show good will. But the line of railroadthat leads me to the Duc de H---- has made a tremendous curve!Yesterday he suddenly presented himself to my mind, so handsome thatI am again completely captivated. 

November 19th, 1875. 

I have spent a day between L---- and W----. It is full of interest, for dress forms an art, a talent, a science! Finery to this degreeof perfection is a treat. 

Oh, dear, how tiresome life is when one hasn't an income of at least300, 000 francs!

I have a dozen gowns made, a few hats, and stop there! It's absurd;one ought not to be embarrassed by such things. Oh, money, money! Imust have it; I'll take any husband, if he will give it to me. 

"And she has such ideas at fifteen, " said my aunt. 

"Yes, Aunt; not at fifteen; since I was thirteen--always. "

"You are crazy, " replied my aunt. 

"I think so, too, but what is to be done?"

"If you don't sleep for ten nights wealth will not arrive any themore; come, go to bed; it's heartrending, heartrending. "

"Madame, I must be married!"

"To E----? No, indeed, he doesn't suit me. "

I have written a lot of nonsense this evening; my ideas are verymuch confused, and the novel especially. And every time I talkedseriously, my aunt was alarmed. Whenever I laughed, she laughedtoo. 

Saturday, November 20th, 1875. 

For three hours everything in the house has been in a state ofrevolution, but all the flames were extinguished in a businessinterview with D----. With pride and confidence I assure myself thatI am the wise head of the household. I believe that this time allthe difficulties are smoothed, unless the matter is upset when I amno longer here. 

Sunday, November 21st, 1875. 

I want to return to Nice, the longer I stay here, the longer mydeparture for Rome is delayed. I spend my time in complaining; myaunt says I am crazy. I laugh, and so does she. Life is full ofinterest. 

Monday, November 22nd, 1875. 

We went to my beautifiers, and also to B----'s. To-morrow we shalldecide upon the carriages. Then I went to see B----, with whom Ialways keep up a correspondence. I spent an hour with her; we arenot intimate friends, like young girls, we are mere acquaintances. 

We received a letter from Mamma, with a clipping from a newspaper inwhich the opening of the opera at Nice was described, and a numberof complimentary things said about us. So people are interested inme, but let us pass on. Mamma has been to the opera again, there wassome mistake about the box, and old A---- came to give her a box bythe side of his. Everybody came to see her--he was with Dina andO----. Everybody enquired for us except G----. 

While reading this letter I committed a thousand extravagances, tothe amazement of my aunt. Instantly taking a sheet of paper I wrote, disguising my hand, a letter to A---- D----. 

"Sir, here is a recent and true story from which your wonderfultalent will be able to make a drama or a striking romance. 

"A rich man, forty-five years old, married in Spain a young girl ofsixteen and took her to his château in France. He was a widower, andhad a son eight years old. This child, at the end of fifteen years, became a young man of three and twenty. He is handsome, impetuous, spoiled, but good and loyal. His stepmother is scarcely thirty-one, and beautiful. They love each other. 

"Pursued by remorse, she could no longer endure the presence of herhusband, who knew nothing. She planned that he should surprise herwith some one else. The husband fired at her, but missed his aim. 

"She fled to a convent where the husband is going to pursue her, wants to bring a lawsuit, take away her children--the oldest a girlof fifteen. The story could be turned to excellent account. 

"There was also an interview between the young man and the woman, inwhich he sought to lead her into a reconciliation, showed her thescandal which this rupture would bring upon her daughters. It endedby a total separation, but if you wish you can kill off whicheveryou like, except the son, who is very well. 

"Answer me through the correspondence of the Figaro, if you thinkthere is anything in it, addressing the initials C. P. L. "

"That is wicked and absurd, " said my aunt. 

"It is worse than wicked, worse than absurd, it is cowardly, butwhat do you expect, doesn't everybody know the story?"

"Yes, but people don't talk about it, not on account of the old man, who is a fool, whom everybody recognises as such, but for the sakeof the young one, who is beloved. It is only since the son'sappearance in society that his father has been let alone. "

"Why does he look so fierce?" C----asked B---- one day. 

"Because so many stones have been thrown at him. "

Wednesday, November 24th, 1875. 

I slept for twelve hours and, while trying on at L----'s I felt ill. True, they kept me two hours with those wretched gowns. 

We ordered from B---- a landau with eight springs, dark-blue, fiveseats, everything the very best, at the price of 6, 000 francs; alsoa park phaeton of the same colour, the phaeton is for me. I alreadysee myself in that little carriage, driving and saying: "Knowst thouthe land--"

November 28th, 1875. 

I am in Nice. From Paris to Lyon, we were in the midst of snow, butit is strange that I am not so delighted as I was before on reachingmy villa. 

At Toulon we met C---- and took her with us. Mamma and the S----'swere waiting for us at the station. The grown-ups took a cab, and weentered our carriage. 

We went to the opera. I wore a white barège costume made a littlelike a night-gown--open in front, as if by chance, and confined atthe waist by a wide sash like a child's. We laughed heartily inspite of the general dulness. 

I returned stupid, indifferent. It is the most detestable condition. I would rather weep. I don't love him. I hate him with all thestrength with which I might have loved him. Nothing in the worldeffaces the resentment I have once felt. 

Do you remember all that is wounding and terrible expressed in theone word "scorn"?

_I_ understand, I who remember the slap my brother gave me more thantwelve years ago, at whose recollection I am still as furious as ifI had received it now; I who have kept a sort of hatred of my, brother on account of that childish affront. It was my only blow, but to make up for it, I have given a goodly number and toeverybody. There was so much wickedness in my eyes that, when Ilooked in the glass, I was frightened by it. Everything can bepardoned except scorn. I would forgive a cruelty, a fit of passion, insults uttered in a moment of anger, even an infidelity, whenpeople return and still love, but scorn--!

Monday, November 29th, 1875. 

We went out at three o'clock. I who came to Nice in search of fineweather encountered Parisian cold. I wore an otter skin hat, made inthe style of a baby hood, and my big sable pelisse covered withwhite cloth. The costume created a sensation, and my face did notlook ugly, in spite of my fatigue. 

I am so happy to be at home in my own house. I am sleeping in mybig dressing room. My chamber will be ready in a month; I shall findit finished on my return from Rome. I am thinking only of that, ofhaving my carriage, of spending a month in Nice, of continuing thestudies I shall have begun in Rome, of following my professor'sdirections, and then of going to Russia. So many things havesuffered, so much money has been lost because we failed to take ourjourney. There was a crowd to hear the band play. General B---- andV---- were near us. A---- was near the carriage. 

"Are you going to stay long in Nice?"

"A week. "

"Are you going away again?"

"Why, yes, " replied my aunt. 

"And where?"

"To Rome. "

"Yes, to Rome, " I added. 

"But you do nothing but travel. Mademoiselle, you are a regularwhirler. "

"What a ridiculous man!"

We were walking, I, my aunt, and the General, who made me laugh bycalling my attention to the different ways in which people looked atme, the men at my face, the women at my gown. 

From this time I will no longer trouble myself about any one. I willbecome Galatea, let people love me, if they like!

I wonder why I am unhappy. No! I have no brains. Do people ask suchthings when they have? We are happy or we are unhappy, nothing doesany good; neither prayer, nor tears, nor faith. I am a living proof, I lack everything. 

When shall I go to Rome? I want to study, I am losing my time fornothing. If one does nothing, one ought to go into society; I amlosing my time and I am bored. 

O, misery of miseries! I will go all the same to pray to God, whoknows?

While there is life, there is hope. 

Saturday, December 4th, 1875. 

I have told Mamma that I was going to study singing, and I shall doit, if it is God's pleasure to preserve my voice; it is the only wayof gaining the fame for which I thirst, for which I would give tenyears of my life without hesitation. I need renown, glory, and Iwill have them. _Deo juvante. _ It has never happened that peoplewanted it, and did not have it! I have the most comprehensive ideasin the world. A fig for all that! Do I want it? A hundred times, no, a thousand times no! I was born to be a remarkable woman, itmatters little in what way or how. All my tendencies are toward thegreat things of this world. I shall be famous, I shall be great, orI shall die!

It is impossible that God should have given me this _gloriacupidatis_, like S----, for nothing, without an object; my time willcome. I am happy when I think as I do to-day. Oh, my voice!

We went to the opera house to get a box for this evening. They gavethe "Barber, " my favourite little opera. I aspire to somethingunheard of, fabulous; I want to be famous, I will sing. It is queer, the whole Italian company saluted me. We were in No. 2. I wore myEmpire gown, in which I like myself best. Hair dressed like anOlympian goddess, falling lower than the belt, and curled naturallyat the ends. The General, always charming, was with us. 

"Come, " I said, "do you know what I am going to do?"

"What are you going to do, Mademoiselle?"

"I am going to make a mirror. "

"How?"

"Look. "

I took the attitude of old A----, who sat opposite. He put his handon the balustrade; I did the same. He leaned on his hand; I leanedon mine. He played with his chain; I played with my ribbon. Hepulled his ear; I pulled mine. 

The General laughed, Dina laughed, everybody laughed. 

Every time he changed his position I imitated him like the mostfaithful mirror. 

It was the last act, the house was half empty, and I continued mygame in freedom till the last moment. I went out fairly jumping forjoy and returned home gay and talkative. 

To-night "Mignon" was given at the theatre. 

I listened with pleasure and emotion. I forgot everything, toiletteand audience, and, with my head resting against the pillar, Idevoured the charming melodies. If I had "Mignon" given in my room Ishould enjoy it just as much, even more. With an interestingaudience one hears nothing. I have seen this opera so many times!And I am always moved. 

One could not imagine my impatience to go to Rome and resume mywork. To study, to study, that is my desire! I grow joyous at thesight of my dear books, my adored classics, my beloved Plutarch. 

I shall carry with me a few volumes to read, for I suppose we shallnot see many people; we know no one there. 

Saturday, December 11th, 1875. 

The weather is magnificent. A tremendous crowd when we go out. Wemove at a walk, between hedges formed of the young men of Nice. Theyall take off their hats, and it seems as if I were the daughter of aqueen whom they salute as she passes. 

We met the Marvel, who alighted from his carriage and raised his hatto us twice. I was amused, I laughed, I went with O----. Why did welaugh so much? I shall remember later. 

Sunday, December 19th, 1875. 

To-morrow there is to be a concert at the _Cercle de la Méditerranée_for the benefit of the free _École des beaux-arts_. I went to theclub to get tickets. Entering through the big door I was usheredthrough well-heated, well-lighted corridors to the room of thesecretary, who gave me the little book containing the by-laws andthe names of the members. Men are lucky!

The club made a charming impression upon me. There is a fraternityof spirit a homelike air, which reminds one of the convent. I am nolonger surprised that these men avoid their badly lighted, poorlyheated homes, with household cares neglected, ill-disciplinedservants, a wife in a wrapper and a bad humour, to go to a placewhere everything is nice, comfortable, elegant (in a land where theorange tree blossoms, where the breeze is softer and the birdswifter of wing). 

O women, don't pity yourselves, but attend to your homes. 

Long instructions might be given. I am content to say: "Make yourhouse resemble a club as much as possible and treat your husbandsas these ladies, L----and C----, treat them, and you will be happyand your husbands too. "

Now I am calm and I think. O misery of miseries! O despair! What Ihave written expresses the best portion of what I feel. O God, havepity on me. Good people, do not jeer at me. Perhaps I give cause foramusement, but I am to be pitied. With my temperament, my ideas, Ishall never explain what I feel. I shall never give an idea of myunhappiness, it is because while dying of shame, of scorn, of rage, I have the courage to jest. I really do have good health and a gooddisposition. Provided that what I have just said doesn't bring memisfortune!

I have a great many other things to say, but I am tired. I am goingto write in big letters, "I am unhappy, " and in letters stilllarger, "O God, aid me, have pity on me!"

These big letters represent an hour and a half of rage, tears, irritated self love, and two hours of prayer!

I have exhausted all words, I have exhausted my energy, I no longerhave patience or strength, yet I still have one resource. 

My voice. To preserve it I must take care of my health. Another weeklike this one, and good-bye to singing!

No, I will be sensible, I will pray to God. I will go to Rome. I amdesperate, I will implore the Pope to pray for me. In my madness, Ihope for that. 

To-morrow I will talk with Mamma about my idea; aid me, my God. 

Thursday, December 23d, 1875. 

I am sorrowful and discouraged. My departure is an exile to me. Iwant to stay in Nice, and it is impossible. We always insist uponthe impossible. The simplest thing, by resisting, gains in value. 

Friday, December 24th, 1875. 

B---- has been to our house. By a few words in the conversation heawoke in me so much love for Nice, so much regret at leaving, that Ibecame unhappy and went to my room to sing--with such earnestness, such warmth, that I am still weeping from it--that eternal air, andthese delightful words:

 "Alas! Would it were possible I might return, Unto that vanished land whence I was torn, There, there alone to live my heart doth yearn, To live, to love, to die. "

How I pity those who are not like me! They do not understand howmuch truth there is in this familiar fragment that is sung in everydrawing-room. Yes, _there alone to live my heart doth yearn_. Yes, at Nice, in my beloved villa. People may go through the world. Theywill find sublime landscapes, impressive mountains, frightful gulfs, wild beauties of nature, picturesque towns, great cities; but, onreturning to Nice one would say that elsewhere it was beautiful, magnificent! but here it is pleasant, attractive, congenial; hereone wants to stay; here one is alone and surrounded, hidden and insight, as one desires. Nowhere else does one breathe as freely, asjoyously. Nowhere else is there this extraordinary blending of thereal and the artificial, the simple and the exquisite! Finally, whatshall I say? Nice is my city. I am going, but I shall return. 

 _Go, but still regret it, Regret has its charms, _

as one of the pleasant simpletons called poets has said. 

To-morrow will be Christmas, and I am planning a joke with C----. Weare going to buy a pair of huge slippers, a jockey, reins fordriving (suitable for a child), and two little sheep. We will putthese things into the slippers, make a package, and under the cordslip a letter written in this form:

"Santa Claus has found little E----very good, and hopes he willcontinue to be. The toys are for little E----, the slippers forlittle 'papa. '" And on the envelope one may guess what. But we shallnot send it, Dina is going to disguise herself as a boy, and, withher blue spectacles and pale complexion, she appears like aprofessor of mathematics. C---- and I will also make ourselvesunrecognisable and, at eight o'clock, go to the club, and tell thecoachman to give the package to the janitor from M. E----. Welaughed as we used to do. What amuses me is to see a serious womanplay pranks with me. 

This morning we had a call from a Sister T----. She left twovisiting cards. _The Sisters of the Good Shepherd. _ I took one, added P. P. C. And, with an address written on it, sent it to Tour. 

Saturday, December 25th, 1875. 

 _Ah! son felica! Ah! son rapita!_

Find me a language which expresses thought with so much enthusiasm. So I use it to define my condition. It is heavenly weather, everybody is out of doors, in spite of my vigil yesterday, I lookpretty. 

I go to walk enchanted, happy, I sing "Mignon" softly and everythingseems beautiful to me. Everybody looks at me so pleasantly, thosewhom I know salute me. I should like to hug them all. Oh, howcomfortable we are in Nice, I should not want to go away. 

I have a longing for amusement, I should like to invite everybody tothe house, to give a dinner, a ball, a supper, a reception, to havesome sort of diabolical carnival--I should like to have everybody, everybody. I am not ill-natured at heart, I am only a little crazy. 

 _Ah! son felica! Ah! son rapita Dio Virgina Sanctissima. _

We went to the opera, Mamma and I in the 3d box in the first row, myaunt and Dina in the 2nd next to the Marvel. T---- came in, GeneralB---- was with us. The door opened and the Marvel appeared. 

"Well, " said I, "you celebrated Christmas. "

"Ah! yes, just think, I received a pair of slippers. "

"Slippers!"

"Yes, and mine were so worn out that they came very opportunely, andan anonymous letter which was not signed--that is very natural, anonymous letters are never signed. And the same day I received aletter, a visiting card: _The Sisters of the Good Shepherd_. "

Everybody laughed. 

"What does P. P. C. Mean?" I asked. 

"Pays Parting Calls. "

"Oh, yes, that's true. "

"But for some time I have received a great many things, the otherday a bit of broken rock, pierced by an arrow. All the people in thebox shouted with laughter, and so did I. But I saw plainly that hewas furiously angry and suspected everything. It is terrible thatonly the most foolish little pranks should be remembered. "

"You are very fortunate, I received nothing at all. "

"Ah! If you wish, I'll send you some slippers. "

"But if they are so big, what should I do with them?"

"Never mind, I'll send you all the things. "

"That is kind, I am quite overpowered. "

BOOK LI

 _From Sunday, December 26th, to Sunday, January 9th, 1876; Nice, Promenade des Anglais, 55 bis, in my villa. --From Monday, January 3d, in Rome, Hôtel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna. _

Sunday, December 26th, 1875. 

We went to hear the band. G. M---- came to talk to us and, amongother compliments, said to me: "M----, I would like to giveyou some of my experience, I love you so much! No, really, Madame, "--addressing my mother--"she has such an extraordinary mind, so developed, so broadened. But it lacks experience. M----, mychild, I will give you some advice. "

"Give it, Monsieur, give it. "

"Well, never love seriously, for there not in me whole world a manworthy your love. "

"Yes, I know that. I know that men are not equal to women. You arenot equal to your wife, I can tell you. "

"You are right, M----. "

He is right. I shall never love wholly. I shall worship, I shallrave, I shall commit follies and even, if opportunity offers, have aromance. But I shall not love, for candidly in my inmost heart, I amconvinced of the villainy of men. Not only that, I do not find anyone worthy of my love, either morally or physically. It is uselessto say and think all I want. A---- will never be anything but agood-looking member of the fashionable society of Nice--a gay liver, almost a fop. Oh, no; every man has some defect that prevents lovinghim entirely. One is stupid, another awkward, another ugly, another--in short, I seek physical and moral perfection. 

Now that it is two o'clock in the morning, that I am shut up in myroom, wrapped in my long white dressing-gown, my feet bare and myhair down, like a virgin martyr, I can give myself up to a throng ofbitter reflections. I shall go, carrying in my heart all thesorrowful and wicked things that can be contained there. 

December 28th, 1875. 

I don't want public pity, but I should like to have one creature tounderstand me, compassionate me, weep with me sincerely, knowing whyshe was weeping, seeing with me into the farthest corner of myheart. What is there more dastardly, more ugly, viler than mankind?

Wednesday, December 29th, 1875. 

We went to see Mme. Du M----. She gave me seven letters ofintroduction for Rome. May God grant that they will be of theservice this excellent woman desires, she loves me so much! No doubteverybody has trouble. One is ill, another is in love, another wantsmoney, another is bored. You will say, perhaps, "Poor little idler, she thinks she is the only person who is unhappy, while she ishappier than most people. " But my sorrow is the most hateful of all. 

We lose a beloved one. We mourn for a year, two years, and remainsorrowful all our lives. The greatest grief loses its force withtime, but an incessant, eternal torment!. .. 

I have just read Mme. Du M----'s letters. No one could be kinder, noone could be more charming. And, just think, the greater part ofthe time those who would like to do things cannot. It is six yearssince she left Rome and I doubt whether her acquaintances rememberher; and then, her influence was never great. 

 "Have you suffered, wept, and languished, Thinking hope was all in vain, Soul in mourning, torn heart anguished? Then you understand my pain. "

_Sappho_ was given to-night. I wore a sort of Neapolitan shirt ofblue crêpe de Chine and old lace, with a white front. It can't bedescribed--it was as original and charming as possible, with a whiteskirt and an alms-bag of white satin. We arrived at the end of thefirst act, and were near P---- and R----, and I heard the voice ofthe Marvel. Nothing can be said against her face, it is blooming;whether real or artificial is of little consequence. She hashair--oh, I don't know. At Spa, she was fairer than I; here, she isdarker

 _"d'un serpent, jaune et sifflant_. "

Now the American has gone home, and is doubtless in a sleep whichwill preserve her twenty-seven-year-old complexion, while I amawake. Just now I fell on my knees sobbing, beseeching God, with myarms outstretched, my eyes fixed on space before me, exactly as ifGod was there in my room. I believe I am uttering insolent things toGod. 

The S----'s came, and after dinner we began to tell fortunes andlaughed almost as much as we did before, that is, the others did, but I could not. Then we poured melted wax into cold water (it isthe shadow that is looked at). I had in succession a lion couchantwith one of his front paws extended, holding a rose; isn't it odd?Then a great heap of something surmounted by a garland held byCupids. 

As for M----, her wax figure cast a horrible shadow. A woman lyingas if dead with her hands crossed on her breast. O---- and Dina hadinsignificant shadows. And, at fifteen minutes before midnight, fourmirrors were brought, two for Dina and two for me, and we took upthe great fortune telling. 

I looked with all my eyes, without stirring, almost withoutbreathing. In the proper costume of night-gown and unbound hair. Buteverything was very vague; it quivered, danced, formed, and reformedevery instant. 

Saturday, January 1st, 1876. 

Here is the new year. Greeting and mercy. Well, the first day of1876 was not so bad as I expected. They say the whole year is spentvery much like the first day, and it is true. I spent the first oflast January in the cars, and I have really travelled a great deal. 

To-morrow, yes, to-morrow I shall be glad to go. I am perfectlyhappy, for I have made a plan--a plan that will fail like theothers, but which amuses me in the meanwhile. If it were not twoo'clock in the morning, I would write a whole story of the sale of asoul. The brutes--I have not wept, I have not felt sad once. A verypleasant day to commence the year. I shall go and think only ofreturning. No doubt I shall change my mind in Rome. All the same, this is where I should like to live. 

I had already closed my book, but I and a lot of things to say. Ihave looked at the great caricature, there are five of us. I havethought of everything; of Mme. B----, of the English, of the peopleof Nice, of S----, of "Mignon. " In a word, a quantity of things. Ihad a great deal to say, and lo! I stop. 

It is tiresome to go, but it is horrible to stay. P---- has dramaticemotions so genuine that she delights and thrills me. Come, what wasI going to write? That I am calm and agitated, sorrowful and joyous, jealous and indifferent. It seems to me that fastidious society ispossible to have and, at the same time, it is impossible. 

 "I wish to stay and I wish to go, How it will end I do not know. "

I cannot lie down. I am sorrowful, excited. 

Oh, calm yourself, for Heaven's sake. It hasn't anything to do withM. A----, but simply that I am going. The uncertainty, thevagueness, leaving the known for the unknown. 

Sunday, January 2nd, 1876. 

"I shall go Sunday at three o'clock, " I said or rather shrieked, andSunday at one o'clock everything was topsy-turvy. The trunks werestill empty, and the floor was covered with gowns and finery. Formy part, I put on a grey dress and waited quietly. C---- and Dinaworked, and so well that everything was ready for the hour ofdeparture. 

At half past two, C---- and I got into a little cab and went to hearthe band, and I listened once more to the municipal music of Nice. "Come, " I said to Collignon, "if this piece is gay, our journeywill be, too. I am superstitious. " And the piece was very lively. Somuch the better!

I saw G----, who bid me good-bye once more. I haven't seen theMarvel, but that doesn't matter. 

We got into the landau again, and went to the station. Our friendscame there, one after another. I skipped about, I laughed, Ichattered like a bird. How kind they are, and how hard it is toleave them. 

"You feign this gaiety, " said B----to me, "but in your heart you areweeping, I am sure of it. "

"Ah! you think so? No!

 "When to Nice you bid good-bye, Unfeigned joy is in your eye. Easy 'tis from Nice to part, For she never wins your heart. "

"Bravo! Bravo!"

The quatrain was made one evening when we were capping verses withG----. 

"Give me some cigarettes, " I said softly to my aunt. 

"Very well, later. "

I thought she had forgotten, but at Monaco she wrapped a number inpaper and gave them to me. She, who cries out when I ask her forthem at home. At Monaco we parted, and those horrid cigarettes mademe cry. I was sorry for the poor old grandfather, my aunt, everybody. I am vexed to have to go with Mamma. I was with her atSpa and, besides, I am used to my aunt. 

Oh! torture! Imagine the tediousness of a journey in Italy. Mammaand Dina do not know Italian. I refused to use my tongue; I canscarcely use my limbs. By dint of complaining because I was not withmy aunt, and saying: "Who asked you to come with us? I ought to gowith my aunt. Why do you come with me?" I obtained a passiveobedience and an alacrity impossible to imagine. 

Night found us in a car. I complained, wept softly, and said themost provoking things to my mother, like the brute I am. 

At last, toward three o'clock, Monday, January 3d, ruins, columns, aqueducts began to appear on the dreary plain called the RomanCampagna, and we entered the station of Rome. I saw nothing, I heardnothing. I was utterly limp after these twenty-four hours withoutsleep. 

We were taken to the Hôtel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna, and weoccupied an apartment on the ground floor, with a yellowdrawing-room that was very fresh and neat, I was tired anddepressed, in the condition in which I needed some one to sustainme. And Mamma was crying. Oh, dear!

We must set to work very, very quickly to look about us. There isnothing I hate like changing. 

New streets, strange faces, and no Mediterranean. Only the miserableTiber. I am utterly wretched when I am in a new city. I shut myselfup in my room to collect my scattered wits a little. 

Tuesday, January 4th, 1876. 

Yesterday Mamma wrote to B----, the brother of the empress'sphysician, and to-day he came to our house. He devotes himself topainting. After this visit, we went out. Oh! the ugly city, theimpure air! What a deplorable mixture of ancient magnificence andmodern filth!

We went through the Corso, the Via Gregoriana, the Forum of Hadrian, the Forum of Rome, we saw the gates of Septimus Severus, andConstantine, the Via Pia, the Coliseum, but everything is stillvague, I don't recognise myself. The drive on the Pincio ischarming, the band was playing, but there were not many people whenwe were there. Statues, statues everywhere. What would Rome bewithout statues? From the summit of the Pincio we looked at the domeof St. Peter and also the whole city. I am glad to find it is notover large, it will be easier to know. 

On the drive we were amused to meet the S----'s, A----, and P---- ofRome. The sun did not appear, and the weather was dull and dreary. 

On arriving in Rome, I had no artistic feeling. It is Rome thatopened my mind, so I have worshipped her since. I don't want tovisit anything before we are settled. The evening was spent inconsulting the cards and in writing letters. 

This stay in Rome seems an exile and it is with unequalled joy thatI think of returning to Nice. The cards predict much good, but canthe cards be believed?

Ah! if I could marry some prince! Then I would return to Nice andmake a triumphal entry. But no, it is indicated that nothing willsucceed for me; so I shall make no more plans or, if I do, it willbe with the sorrowful conviction of their uselessness. Each time Ihave been disappointed. 

Wednesday, January 5th, 1876. 

This is what I wrote to the General:

"I am in Rome, and it is very wonderful (ah! it is very wonderful, very marvellous). It is cold as Russia, the water freezes in thefountains, but the cold would be nothing if it was _only_ the cold. Since morning we have been in search of an apartment, and we haveseen only one. I did not have courage to go up when they pointed outa black, yawning hole, dirty and frightful. I have looked in vainfor a house with any resemblance to the French houses. I find onlyruins or cracked columns. No doubt it is very beautiful, but agreewith me that a good, comfortable apartment is infinitely morepleasant, though less artistic. 

"I believe we shall end by lodging in the baths of Caracalla or inthe Coliseum. The foreigners will take me for the ghost of aChristian martyr, devoured by some fierce tiger in the presence ofsome carnivorous emperor. As to the furniture, we will be contentwith fragments of statues or a few bones, the sublime remains of ahenceforth impossible past. After my installation in the Coliseum, or in the Forum, I will give you the most minute details concerningthe Eternal City. Meanwhile, I shall expect a letter from you, mydear General, which will be, I know, kind and charming. Now good-byeuntil we meet again. 

MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF. "

It is the truth, there is not a habitable apartment; where are we?Can this horrible city be called a capital? We are not in Europe!Not a house fit to rent. I am discouraged, tired, but I will notstir before May. 

O Rome! I think that we shall take a larger apartment in the hotel, and stay there. One can breathe only in the Piazza di Spagna. It isimpossible that this is Rome! What a mixture of beautifulantiquities and modern trash!

Thursday, January 6th, 1876. 

B---- has been here again and brought the addresses of someprofessors. Then we took a carriage, and Mamma went to the Russianpriest's, the archimandrite Alexander. Being an archimandrite, he ismarried, for in our country priests and deacons can be married once. Mamma says that he is charming. Our embassy makes no show, and hasnot even any regular reception day. 

This society makes me love Rome. I scarcely regret Nice, theungrateful, wicked city. 

Sad and irresolute yesterday, I am gay and confident to-day. I havewritten to my aunt to send me F----, the ugly little negro will bevery nice to have here. 

I have had a good dinner, and spent the evening in reading thehistory of Charles the Bold. 

I thought, "in my ingenuous candour, " that there was no societyexcept in Nice, but there is a great deal, and even very excellent. 

After the drive we went down the Corso, thronged with carriages, between rows of pedestrians of all classes. D----was among them. Nowthat my eyes are opened to see the beauties and antiquities of Rome, I am growing curious, eager to visit everything. I am no longerdrowsy. I am in a hurry to be everywhere. I want to live at fullspeed again. Ah! if only I could!. .. Again a longing for Nice. Thepoorest thing, by resisting, gains worth. Be thoroughly convinced ofthis genuine truth. Do not believe that I am stupefied to the pointof not seeing beyond the city of S----; on the contrary, I am moreambitious than ever. But meanwhile, to spit upon some one who hasspit on us, to give the person a kick, is a pleasure which everywell-born soul can permit itself. 

Friday, January 7th, 1876. 

Goodness! What prices people ask in Rome! For 1, 800 francs one hasonly the barest necessaries! At the Hôtel de Rome I saw an apartmentso large and so fine that it made my head ache. In France we have noidea of this grandeur, this ancient majesty. After much searching wehave taken an apartment in the second story of the Hôtel de Londres, with a balcony looking out upon the Piazza di Spagna, a handsomedrawing-room, several bedrooms, and a study. We went to B----'sstudio. He has very fair talent. 

Tuesday, January 11th, 1876. 

We did not go out, but the artist Kalorbinski came, and to-morrowthe lessons will begin. Monseigneur de Faloux, being unable to goout himself, sent the Chevalier Rossy to bring us a number ofpleasant messages. I received him. I have learned a great deal aboutaffairs in the city. 

I am very proud of receiving some one myself. It seems like asovereign's first decree. The Russian priest has come to call on ustoo. I like the cowled monks in Rome. They are new to me, and thatpleases me. 

At last I have a teacher of painting; that is something. Thisevening I see everything in rose-colour, and I am already thinkingof a letter in which it will be said of A----: _Et eum dicat supermalitiosum, improbum, inhonestum, cupidum, luxuriosum, ebriosum!_Exactly what Septimus Severus said of Albinus. 

If only the winter would pass more quickly. With all my misfortunes, I feel better in Nice, I can give myself up to despair as much as Iplease. Only last Spring, there was nobody there. The best peoplegathered around us. P---- was deserted, so were the others. Whilethis Spring there will again be nobody, but P---- will have MissR----. These ladies, under the leadership of T----, will form a sortof court, like that of the young Princess G---- and Mme. T---- threemonths since. Both died three months ago. 

We shall see. Meanwhile let us study, and try to go into society. Let us pray to God, and amuse ourselves by writing letters. 

Wednesday, January 12th, 1876. 

B---- and his cousin have called to see us. When these Russians go, I put on my dressing gown again, and say a lot of things, and rankmyself among the goddesses, then descend to calling myself a littlebundle of dirty linen. 

I like to indulge in extravagant speeches, and make Mamma laugh. Ireceived a letter from B----, this charming friend gives me the newsof Nice. P----has had a reception, and everybody went. It seems thatwe were mentioned in the presence of quite a large number of personsin the consul's house, and the consul and his wife said nothing butgood about us. 

"I was glad, " B---- wrote, "to see that they were your friends, too, though you no longer went there so often. "

After all, I am very happy, very calm, and I am going to bed. 

Thursday, January 13th, 1876. 

Mamma and Dina are at church. It is our New Year's Day, and I havestayed at home to sew. That is my whim at present, and I must dowhat I wish. B---- called to offer his good wishes. 

Not until four o'clock did they succeed in dragging me out of thehouse and, at five o'clock. Mamma is going to the embassy. That isthe hour Baronne D----receives. 

We had a telegram from Barnola. He congratulates us, and reminded meof the promise I made to drink a glass of water at the Fountain ofTrevi at two o'clock on the Russian New Year's Day. He vowedfriendship, I did the same. 

I received a letter from my aunt, in which she told me that A----was paying attention to an English girl whom she has nicknamedOlive. My aunt has so lively an imagination. At the end of threedays of our acquaintance with the Marvel, she told me that the poorfool was in love with me. And she pitied him with eager kindnesswhile predicting for him the fate of the Polish count. Now she hasseen him at Monaco with the girl, and she is already marrying them. Oh! it is really atrocious--always conjectures! Ah! if I could knowthe truth. Have patience, that is easy to write. But to show it!Patience is the virtue of sluggish--but gentle, foolish souls. 

I don't think I love the Marvel, I don't find him in my heart; butat any rate, the surface is very much occupied with him. If he lovedme, I shouldn't care very much, that is the truth. 

Friday, January 14th, 1876. 

We met on the Pincio Count B----, who started at seeing me, thenbowed to my mother. 

At five o'clock we went to see Monseigneur F----, a thin, black, agile old priest in a wig, a Jesuit, a hypocrite. He received usvery courteously in his remarkable drawing-rooms, filled with thingsin the best taste. Gobelins, pictures, and all this in the dwellingof a detestable Jesuit. Well, well!

We all went to walk in the Villa Borghese, which is more beautifulthan the Doria. There was a crowd of people, and the pretty PrincessM---- was walking like any ordinary mortal, followed by hercarriage, with the coachman and two footmen in red livery. Thisquantity of carriages with coats of arms saddened me. We knownobody, God help me! Perhaps I am ridiculous with my complaints, and my eternal prayers! I am so miserable! This evening Mamma askedthe date of last year's carnival; I took out my journal and, withoutnoticing it, spent two hours turning over the leaves. 

I said to myself: I am living to be happy! Everything must bowbefore me! And see how it is--the idea that I could fail in anythingnever occurred to me. 

A delay, yes, but a complete failure, nonsense!--And I see withterror and humiliation that I was deceived, that nothing happens asI wish. It is not because I love some one; I do not love anybodyseriously; I love a coronet and money. It is terrible to think thateverything is escaping. Each instant I long to pray to God, and eachinstant I stop myself. I shall pray again, let what will happen!

My God, Holy Virgin, do not scorn me, take me under yourprotection. 

Sunday, January 16th, 1876. 

I feel that I shall write badly, for I have just been reading my oldjournal. Mamma begged me to read the period of G----. I read it, passing over a number of things. What is perfectly simple whenwritten is no longer so when read aloud. My face burned, my fingersgrew cold, and I ended by saying that I could not go on. 

"She will read it to us in two years, " said Mamma. 

After St. Peter's, Mamma went to Baron d'I----'s, the ambassador'scousin. She made his acquaintance at the ambassadress's. Thesepeople are very simple and agreeable. I liked the baron especially. 

There was a crowd on the Pincio, the Corso and the Piazza Colonnawere thronged with carriages and people returning from the Pincio. 

We dined at the table d'hôte because the son of the Grand Duke ofBaden was to dine there. A number of society people were present, and the Grand Duke is a pleasant fellow enough--for a Grand Duke. 

Wednesday, January 19th, 1876. 

We went to the Pincio, there were a great many people. The Duc deL----, son of the Grand Duchess M----, the emperor's sister, wasthere with Mme. A----, the wife of a Russian prefect. The Duc deL---- saw her and was captivated. Since then she is always with him. It is said that they are secretly married and live abroad. That iswhat people call having happiness. She had liveried servants andmagnificent horses--suitable, I should think, for the niece of theEmperor of Russia. 

January 19th, 1876. 

At the church of St. John we met Baronne d'I----, the ambassadress'scousin, who came up to Mamma and talked with her a long time, apologising for not having yet called, on account of her husband'sillness. Mamma went to her house last Sunday, three days ago. 

From there to the Pincio, then to the Corso, crowds everywhere, Ilike this animation. 

My aunt wrote that the Marvel, but she doesn't call him that, everybody at Nice in our house calls him nothing but the "shavedmagpie, " so my aunt wrote that the "shaved magpie" was at the opera, and did nothing all the evening but weep, actually weep. 

There is news from Russia, nothing good, I think of nothing butpraying to God, and am in fear. 

I pity myself _now_, what would it be if we should lose our fortune!Horrible!

I pray to God and tremble. God will not abandon me. 

 * * * * *

Rome bores me; Nice is my beloved country. I see Rome, Paris, London, kings, courts, but there is nothing so pretty as my dearvilla. If ever I am rich, titled, and happy, I shall not forget it. I shall spend several months of the year there! no, severalmonths--I could not do that, for everywhere, except in London, winter is the principal season. 

We went to the photographer, S----'s, to tell him that I would cometo pose on Monday. I saw there a number of portraits of people Iknow. While looking at L----, his wife, and L---- D----, it seemedas if he were going to bow to me. Then a bewitching woman with big, deep eyes, and heavy eyebrows above a straight nose. She resemblesR----. Dina says it is she. But no, she has not that round chin witha dimple, and those magnificent eyes. No, it can't be, she is not sobeautiful. 

Then to the Pincio, then to a milliner to order a Marie Stuart cap, and a Marie Antoinette turban. The woman showed me a gown she wasmaking for a ball at the Quirinal, day after to-morrow. 

This plunges me into inconceivable torture. If you knew how I dreadspending the Carnival without a single amusement! We found theambassadress's card at our home, so she has returned the visit. Itis rather late, all the same. Her cousin came at dinner time. TheGrand Duke of L---- asked who we were (who is that pretty Russian?). B---- says Mamma ought to go to call on the Marquise de M----. Hesays it is the custom here, especially from a foreigner to a Romanlady. Let Mamma go anywhere, provided that I can go where I like. Mytorture has no bounds, I am dying of it every instant. Do you want aproof of my despair? There are times when I hope to marry A---- andbe something at Nice with P----; that gives the measure of mydiscouragement, my desperation. 

I have had this humiliating thought once or twice. I tell you toshow you how low I descend, how vexed, how martyrised I am to livein this way. Who will restore my lost time, my best time? I haveused every expression, and am dying because I cannot make myselfunderstood. 

I have written to C---- and to B----. I was in a hurry to tell themthe good news. I have the very weak middle notes which accompany theabnormal compass of my voice. I have found a method of singing thatstrengthens them wonderfully, so that they are almost as strong asthe rest. This delights me, and I am eager to write about it toB----, who is so much interested in my voice. But for that, it wouldhave required two years study to render them satisfactory. I thankGod, and will pray to Him for the other things. 

Thursday, January 20th, 1876. 

After three years study, if no accident happens, I shall have avoice such as is rarely heard, and I shall not yet be twenty. 

F---- is severe and just. 

I am afraid to say all that I think of my voice; a strange modestycloses my lips. Yet I have always spoken of myself as if I weretalking of some one else, which has perhaps made people think meblind and arrogant. 

Friday, January 21st, 1876. 

I want to have a gown like the one worn by Dante's Beatrice. 

Saturday, January 22nd, 1876. 

Still another proof of the falsity of the cards. Yesterday I had asort of sorceress come and she pretended to give me good luck. Shetold me to call the person I wanted. I called A---- and that womantold me he could not live without me; that he was dying of griefand jealousy, and he was especially jealous because a wicked womanhad told him that I loved another man. 

May all the witches die! May all the cards burn! They are nothingbut lies!

Sunday, January 23d, 1876. 

I am making a large white garment for the house, for the spring, inNice. Nice, miserable city, why cannot I live there as I like? InNice I know everybody, but to live in Nice except as a queen isn'tworth while. 

I am sad, I am in a foreign country, I long to return home, just fora single day, for if I stayed longer, I should want to go back. 

In the evening we went to the Apollo theatre, they gave the _Vestal_and a ballet. I wore white with a Greek coiffure. There were agreat many people, and an especially large number of men. Not asingle woman between our box and the stage. 

_From Monday, January 24th, to February 10th, 1876:Rome, Hôtel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna. _

I swear that all these tragic and jealous remarks about A---- werewritten under the influence of romantic reading, and that I onlyhalf believed them while I was writing, exciting myself for thepleasure of it, and I greatly regret these exaggerations. 

The archimandrite has been at our house. He is a charming man who, after having been a soldier, turned monk from despair at having losthis wife. He told us that there was a Madame S---- who greatlydesired to make Mamma's acquaintance. 

Returning from the photographer's, such dismal thoughts filled mybrain that I did not dress and let Mamma and Dina go out without me. Being left alone, I am very sad, I am singing "Mignon. "

Tuesday, January 25th, 1876. 

I am homesick. I took a singing lesson, and then went out withMamma. We went to M. De E----'s studio. He requested permission topresent a very elegant and popular M. Benard, received everywhere insociety. He told us a great many things about Rome. 

From there we went to Monseigneur de F----'s, who yesterday asked ifwe had had our audience. 

This priest is turning out better and better, he has even madescandals. He told us that I had been noticed at the opera, my whitedress had attracted attention, and said that to go to court we needonly write to the Minister or Ambassador. 

"I should like, " he added, "to be able to open to you the otherdoor, as I have opened the Holy One. "

"O Monseigneur, " I replied, "the Holy Door is far preferable. "

From there to the residence of Madame S---- (the archimandrite hadtold her, and she was expecting us), who is the most charming andthe ugliest woman in the world. She received us in the mostdelightful way, and immediately spoke of the Quirinal.