Sunday, 13 April 1873

Very fine. To church (pink percale dress, black hat — not bad). I am not at all content; I have nothing left to wear — nothing, absolutely. Today and every day now I am very badly dressed, and it is natural: I have no dresses; the winter dresses can no longer be worn, and new dresses I have none. It puts me in a dreadful humor, and I want to cry. Tomorrow I shall order something, for it cannot go on like this.
Toward three o'clock Lise and Aggie Howard came; we walked in the garden and all about, then together to the concert — many people for this time of year — then we escorted them home. They are charming; if I had a dress, I could say I spent my time well.
I should like to know what it means that Gioia does not go out; the house is open but the gate is closed. Women often come to ask for something; they are not let in, but the servant speaks through the gate. I suppose she is ill — if so, then he has left her, for otherwise he would be there. And perhaps she does not let him know, for men do not like women like that when they are ill; she is right.
And perhaps she is not in Nice, but the house is open because her children are here. I know nothing of it.
I should like to see him; I am in so sad a humor. I do not see him. I have no hope. I have no hope that he can one day love me. I have no definite idea of my future. That is to say, I know what I should like, but I do not know what I shall have!
How cheerful I was last winter! Everything smiled upon me; I loved Baron Finot, he was there, I had hope — and everything is broken. I love now a shadow that I can perhaps never have — but I love him! Oh! yes!