Sunday, 22 June 1873

I did not go to church (grey dress, good). It is as hot as an oven. It is no longer the sun that burns — it is the air, and that is even more dreadful. I am melting; I am dreadfully hot. Georges had brought his friend M. Drillat, a man of about forty, rather stout, with a nose as big and red as I have never seen. He looks as if he were made of wood — or no, of varnished papier-mâché. He is one of those types one sees at the roulette table, who play their whole lives. And in conversation: "Red came up ten times! That is luck for a man as stubborn as I am. The alternation of colours gave me ten louis. With the run of black I made nothing, etc. etc. etc. etc." These are the people who have made gambling their profession.
Fama di loro il mondo essere no lassa / Misericordia e giustizia gli / Non ragionam di lor ma guarda e passa.
At three I took a sea bath. Returning from the bath, I found everyone in the garden. Maman told me that the Duchess de Faetano offers her house for a hundred thousand francs over ten years. That would be very fine. I wanted to know if the big house is for sale. I went to the Duchess's to ask her to come to the garden. They talked for two hours to no purpose. The corner house: two hundred thousand francs; and the big one, three hundred and fifty. It was therefore a false alarm.
In the evening at seven we went out; Maman and the others went to Monaco.
Dina and I, after taking a turn on the quays and the Promenade, came home. How do I spend my time? Well! Very badly. The books are at the other villa, packed up, and I cannot study. I am reading English — the works of Oliver Goldsmith. I am very fond of him; his comedies are so witty!

Notes

Italian: "The world allows no fame of them to live / Mercy and justice scorn them both alike / Let us not speak of them, but look and pass" (Dante, Inferno III.49-51).