This morning we had a call from a Sister T——.  She left two visiting 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 look pretty.

I go to walk enchanted, happy, I sing “Mignon” softly and everything seems beautiful to me.  Everybody looks at me so pleasantly, those whom I know salute me.  I should like to hug them all.  Oh, how comfortable we are in Nice, I should not want to go away.

I have a longing for amusement, I should like to invite everybody to the house, to give a dinner, a ball, a supper, a reception, to have some 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, my aunt and Dina in the 2nd next to the Marvel.  T——­ came in, General B——­ 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, and an anonymous letter which was not signed—­that is very natural, anonymous letters are never signed.  And the same day I received a letter, 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 other day a bit of broken rock, pierced by an arrow.  All the people in the box shouted with laughter, and so did I. But I saw plainly that he was furiously angry and suspected everything.  It is terrible that only 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, Hotel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna.

Sunday, December 26th, 1875.

We went to hear the band.  G. M——­ came to talk to us and, among other compliments, said to me:  “M——­, I would like to give you 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——­, my child, I will give you some advice.”