In the evening, Ptashka, I, Suvchinsky and his sister-in-law Apukhtina were at the theatre for Diaghilev's latest production. This was of some operetta or other by Chabrier, originally with spoken dialogue subsequently turned into recitative with music provided by Milhaud. The result was a long, vacuous and insipid production without a shred of wit or animation. Diaghilev had put it on in pursuance of some unfathomable ordinances forming part and parcel of his present evolution. The audience was unimpressed: as the performance wound on sounds of hissing, booing and whistling emanated from the gallery in attempts to unsettle the actors, alternating with noisy and inappropriate applause intended to drown out the music. In short, the action in the auditorium was a lot more interesting than what was taking place on stage. Stravinsky, sitting in a box not far away from us, was visibly enraged by the behaviour of the audience, occasionally booing back in the direction of the gallery. I do not exclude the possibility that it was Stravinsky who had persuaded Diaghilev to put the thing on in the first place.

At the end, Suvchinsky said to Stravinsky, 'I see that there could be reasons for presenting this sort of stuff, but the choice of this one seems to me to have been an unfortunate one. Why pick something as tedious as this? The Barber of Seville is in a similar vein but vastly more entertaining.' Stravinsky got hot under the collar, and muttering, 'You're all savages', turned on his heel and left.