Friday, 2 January 1874

I forgot to mention that yesterday they performed "La Favorite" and that the prima donna is beneath all criticism.
How strange! One day has passed and the year is over. I cannot get over it, like everything else, for that matter.
Every time I pass the Villa Wittgenstein I notice more and more the striking resemblance between the prince himself and the brown dishrag that has been tied to the top of a pillar, placed near the gate alongside all sorts of scaffolding; for they are rebuilding something. That wretched Gioia has deplorable manners.
Having accompanied Maman and my aunt to the station (the madman who wanted to kill himself is Polish, poor man; he will live) I went to Delbecchi's to get notebooks to continue my Journal.
Today there is that star which gives light and life, which had been missing for so long from bella Nizza Miserere.
On New Year's Day, I received cards from all the beasts who pour their knowledge into my head. Is this what I wanted! No, it is not such a new year that I desire at last! "Let us wait, let us wait, let us wait still for the first day of happiness."
There was a ball at Mme Prodgers' where Mlle Avigdor made her debut in society. But what do I care!
I walked with Hitchcock and also met the young Galve girl on foot; with her grey hat and grey dress she is charming, well-proportioned and graceful. There is something so gentle about her whole person, everything about her is soft and even. I also met M. Woerman with the Labanoffs as always; I believe he is marrying the daughter of Princess Labanoff. He is a charming young man. On entering one of the streets leading to the Place Grimaldi, M. Barnola came to speak to me, to wish me a happy new year, to tell me that I am becoming charming and tall and and... etc. etc. etc.
How old he has become. I am very pleased with myself lately; I find myself pretty and that makes me prettier. Nothing makes one ugly like believing oneself ugly. Too much confidence is no doubt harmful, especially with a monstrous face, but I am not monstrous.
One must always believe oneself better than everyone else.
It is a pity that the star which gives etc. has made its appearance. These past three or four days, the weather was foggy and it seemed to me that I was in Paris. That carriage of Count Lambertye no longer appears, it too reminded me of Paris.
The moment I returned home I went to my room before the large mirror; the last ray of the setting sun fell precisely on my face, I had on my brown hat, I was very pink, without being flushed. The ray was red, my hair took on a fiery shade, as did my complexion, and I resembled him so much. I leaned to the left, one could see only the hair, the hat, the cheek and a bit of the nose; the shades were like his, I was delighted.

Notes

In Italian in the original. "Beautiful Nice."
In English in the original.