Monday, 14 December 1874

The rain prevented me from riding with Florence.
I walked with Sabatini from half past two until four; then drove with Foster. (Grey dress, black hat — this immortal dress suits the hat wonderfully.) I have a small foot, perfectly shod; a hand gloved to match; my hair beautifully done, with a tortoiseshell buckle behind. Pink and white I was.
My faithful Bagatelle followed me, and the vagabond Prater too. I seemed pretty and graceful to myself — for that reason or some other, people watched me a great deal; my feet especially — not me in my entirety. The questionnaires are delaying my journey to Paris, and I am most vexed by it. The Comte de Barrême and the Comte Albert d'Olivier called on us, but we could not receive them — Maman is in bed and busy with the answers.
Monsieur Morgan — a young man Paul met at school — gave me today a puppy of the cairn breed.
Three weeks ago, I opened this book and wrote at random happy day — let us see if [Crossed out: am too] I am not mistaken.
[In the margin: Wittgenstein — Nietsnegttiw]

Notes

In English in the original. Marie writes "un puppy," using the English word with a French article — typical of Nice's cosmopolitan expatriate world.
Marie's reverse-spelling game: "Nietsnegttiw" = Wittgenstein spelled backwards. She employs this device (also "Terffidua" for Audiffret) as a diary privacy measure.