Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 31 July 1873

On our feet at five. A detestable hotel, but as I was without boots, I was glad of anything. Each took a turn in this famous hip-bath. I begged the hostess to send me a shoemaker before eight in the morning. She sent one straight from Crispino e la comare with impossible boots! I was forced to take a pair — but what feet!!! I am afraid to move for fear someone should see them. We entered a compartment for smokers. Opposite us were four gentlemen: one, I know not what; the second, a detestable Dalbera who stared at me the whole time; the third, a little purse [?] with whom Paul was burning to speak. Dina simpered the whole time. The fourth, I know not what — he seems an Englishman, very fine, a strange face. To form an idea of it, one must take the Prince of Wales, Lord Howard, the Duke of Hamilton, and a little of M. Randouin, and make one of them. He is red-haired, dressed in a white and blue foulard with small checks. But in him the Duke of Hamilton dominates — especially the eyes; when he looked at me, each time it seemed to me it was the Duke. He speaks Italian well — it would be a pity if he were of that ugly nationality. I hate Italian men! I adore the English!
Here we are in Milan, where we dined. It is so cheap — twelve francs.
From Milan onward the countryside is adorable — so green, so flat that one can extend the gaze to infinity without mountains placing themselves like a wall before the eyes. ...
For the night I arranged myself very well with two seats, and slept perfectly.