Marie Bashkirtseff | Page 5

back the young ladies of former days, tall, well-formed, slender, beautiful. One would say that I am raving over a gown as I do over the man I love.
Tuesday, April 8th.
I had a geography lesson to-day. While looking for a city in America, my eyes were attracted by this tragical name: H---- island in the Arctic Ocean. It seemed as if a thunderbolt had struck me, I did not feel the earth under my feet. My heart beat violently, I was completely 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. He has given me all I have possessed up to the present moment.
* * * * *
Mademoiselle C---- scolded me to-day because people looked at me too much on the Promenade. While returning from church we talked about religion--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---- was discussed. I defended him warmly, but I have seen that I went too far.
Good Friday.
At church, when we went to kiss the tomb of Christ, I looked at all the faces and suddenly his appeared as if he were there in person. Never has it presented itself so distinctly. This time I saw it as if it were himself. At this apparition my heart beat violently, and I began to pray. I wanted to recall this beloved face, but in vain. I no longer see it.
At this vision, an idea came to me. There were a great many flowers near the tomb. I took a daisy. The flower is holy, it was near our Saviour. It will tell me whether our desires will be realised. With a 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 this furnace. It is too warm. Knock, and it shall be opened unto you. I believe that, it is my consolation. We are going to Vienna Saturday, but Mamma will stay. There is no pleasure without pain. That is a great truth. So we shall start Saturday, I, my aunt, Dina, and Paul.
July 29th, 1873.
During the journey the most open-hearted gaiety did not cease to reign among us. O, how disagreeable Italy is on account of the Italians, how dirty they are! We wanted to take a bath, and I did not expect to have such luck in an Italian hotel in Genoa. I was greatly surprised when they brought it to me.
At ten o'clock we at last reached our destination. We went to the Grand Hotel. Everything is magnificent. I am pleased with it. I wanted 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 render finery! I adore dress, because it will mate me pretty and give pleasure to the man I love, and I shall be happy. Then dress bestows Paradise upon earth.
The Russian pavilion is extremely beautiful, everything is fine. We breakfasted at the Russian restaurant. It is neither restaurant nor Russian. It is a sort of German beer-hall. The servants are dressed in red, a perfect caricature. It isn't surprising that Russians should be taken for Turks. I am having a good time to-day. The first two it seemed as though I was in a lethargy. That happens to me sometimes. 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 looked eagerly. There were Russian names on the goods. My eyes filled with tears.
At seven o'clock, we went to hear the band. There were a great many people, the music was very captivating, thoroughly Viennese. When this orchestra stopped, another began. All sorts of persons, members of the imperial family, fashionable ladies, young dandies, a whirl of gaiety.
The Viennese climate is delicious, not like Nice, which is burning hot in summer.
At last! We are leaving! We are in the train. There is no time to collect one's thoughts. We pass cities, cottages, huts, and in each dwelling people are talking, loving, quarrelling, bestirring themselves. Every human being whom we see, smaller than a fly, has his joys and sorrows. We are talking so much of Baden. We shall pass through it to-morrow. I should like to go there.
At five o'clock in the morning I was waked. We were approaching Paris. I dressed