Saturday, 18 April 1874

28 is quite simply M. Zaitchenko; Palajka is a chambermaid in their house, and they are merchants, or something of the sort. Maman says: I thought at least he was a prince. I too thought he was somebody, but since he is nobody, he is no longer 28 but simply Zaitchenko.
They brought me my dress, which fortunately is wearable (light dress, straw hat, good); the whole effect is good -- original above all, and very simple. We go to the district that these good Nicois have built around the public garden, to hear all these bands of music from Menton, Cannes, etc., etc. It was nice but only a few people. Lees from the London House were brought to the carriage. Mrs Azarevitch and W. came and remained by us. Poor Azarevitch -- he blushes when one speaks of Kechko, that horribly beautiful girl with such a detestable name. I was almost gay. Only I do not know why Maman held her face constantly turned towards the garden, so that several times Azarevitch spoke in vain; I could tell it to her, and I was not at ease.
I regained all I have lost, about 220 francs, and gained 50 francs. I dare say Mr Soucap is no more.
I thought of going to the theater -- it is our letter today -- but I remained at home. What is the use of showing myself to the clerk & Co., and besides I found it much more attractive to remain and think of him. There is a likeness between him and Mary Stuart; it is why I read her history in Sainte-Beuve. I went late to bed, because Dina came and talked... Several times she made me remain too late; it must be prevented.
[Written sideways: by clerk I mean Fiouloulou.]
I have said that I shall take the first who presents himself possessing a fine name, a fine position, and a fine fortune. And this is true! No one pleases me but "my Duke"; the others are all the same, excepting, certainly, some irresistible antipathy. No one pleases me but the Duke; I could pass hours, whole days, thinking of him without tiring, but on the contrary, the more I think of him, the more I wish to think of him, and the more I feel joy from it -- a very great benefit. I have never (been able to) think of him as of many others, in my compositions; I have only to see him -- but I cannot. Because [sic] he speaks to me even in my imagination. And if I see him, I see him so far away, so vaguely, and I am always so moved and astonished that I lose my breath, and involuntarily I shake my head to chase away that beautiful dream that I desire so much when it does not come, but when it comes I cannot bear it; I am lost and against myself, as if an invincible force were guiding me -- I know it; I draw away from him and remain for some moments [sic] without any thought. This is curious; I do not know if it happens thus to others. These are moments when I think of nothing -- principally after him.

Notes

In English in the original.
In Italian in the original (with numerous errors in Marie's Italian). Translation follows her intended meaning rather than her sometimes garbled syntax.