Sunday, January 16th, 1876.

I feel that I shall write badly, for I have just been reading my old journal.  Mamma begged me to read the period of G——.  I read it, passing over a number of things.  What is perfectly simple when written is no longer so when read aloud.  My face burned, my fingers grew 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’s cousin.  She made his acquaintance at the ambassadress’s.  These people are very simple and agreeable.  I liked the baron especially.

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

We dined at the table d’hote because the son of the Grand Duke of Baden 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 de L——­, son of the Grand Duchess M——­, the emperor’s sister, was there with Mme. A——­, the wife of a Russian prefect.  The Duc de L——­ saw her and was captivated.  Since then she is always with him.  It is said that they are secretly married and live abroad.  That is what people call having happiness.  She had liveried servants and magnificent horses—­suitable, I should think, for the niece of the Emperor of Russia.

January 19th, 1876.

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

From there to the Pincio, then to the Corso, crowds everywhere, I like 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 “shaved magpie,” 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 but praying 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 dear villa.  If ever I am rich, titled, and happy, I shall not forget it.  I shall spend several months of the year there! no, several months—­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 come to pose on Monday.  I saw there a number of portraits of people I know.  While looking at L——­, his wife, and L——­ D——­, it seemed as if he were going to bow to me.  Then a bewitching woman with big, deep eyes, and heavy eyebrows above a straight nose.  She resembles R——.  Dina says it is she.  But no, she has not that round chin with a dimple, and those magnificent eyes.  No, it can’t be, she is not so beautiful.