Monday, 22 June 1874

This will be a little difficult: since Monday the 22nd I have written nothing, and many things have happened -- the most important being that we are no longer in Paris. Today, Wednesday the 24th of June, we are in Spa, at the Hotel de l'Europe. But before arriving at where we are, there are several things to say.
[In the margin: Notlimah Woydac Cadyow.]
Monday the 22nd, we went to town as every day; I remember only the visit to Caroline's -- that is, Laferriere's -- and then that Rodionoff dined with us, that Dusautoy had come and neither remade nor mended my riding habit (besides, it would have been a miracle -- he had been paid two weeks ago). Then that we went to the Champs-Elysees in the evening. The next day, the day of departure, we went to English Hats; I bought a jockey cap in black velvet, then went for a fitting at Caroline's. She was very amiable, admitted that she loved gambling passionately, and that yesterday she became a grandmother for the second time.
I have at last my pink dress, which is really very pretty. We -- or rather I -- leave several orders in Paris, for want of money and time, but I gave notice that I should write as soon as I arrived saying where to send them. This is what I shall do.
Bagatelle is a true ratter -- claws like a cat and teeth like needles.

Notes

In English in the original: the name of the shop.