In the morning before ten o'clock I went out without a hat and with all the dogs. I walked up and down¹ the Promenade, and I saw more living beings than yesterday and the day before. Every time I go out I pass before Gioia's, but I do not manage to see her. I wrote to Foster this morning, still about the dog. All my books are unpacked and arranged in a room on the second floor (of the house), which will serve as my study until better times. For despite my despair of the other day, I hope I shall have what I wanted and what I no longer want. It is truly inconvenient and unsightly to dine at the pavilion. Towards winter one will see the impossibility of these constant journeys from the house to the pavilion, and of transporting the dishes in the rain. I was tired from arranging these books and to rest I went out in the carriage towards five o'clock (white dress, Ostend hat, hair down my back). We drove into town for several things needed for the house, and then to the music dealer Ferrara. While I was looking at his display, Emile d'Audiffret [Crossed out: passed] crossed the street and went to join Saetone, who had been watching us for several minutes already at the street corner, near the kiosk. It was not in vain that we named him "the street corner" the first year of our stay here, with Collignon. These two heroes remained some time watching us, then went off by the bridge. I bought Verdi's Requiem, but Papa finds it gloomy and prevents me from playing through it. Bouba writes that soon he will have Gioia's photograph and will send it here. I do not know whether I have said that I asked my aunt to request this photograph from him in Paris, and while she was asking for it, I left the room.