Foster tells me she met at Mrs Prodgers' a certain Monsieur de Something-or-other who asked to go riding with her; when she answered that she only rides with Mademoiselle de Bachkirsève [sic], he said he would very much like to make my acquaintance, especially as he has a message from Spa for me.

There is a reception at the prefecture: M. and Mme Decrais.

I wished to refuse to go riding with this gentleman, saying that Maman does not want me to ride with a gentleman she does not know — [Word blacked out: but] Foster says she cannot ride at all anymore because she cannot tell him that my mother does not want him with me until he has been properly introduced to her, and if he sees her on horseback afterward... Then Mrs Foster begins assuring me he is a gentleman², that she would not let her own daughter ride with just anybody, that this man was introduced to her by Mrs Prodgers. Whereupon my aunt made difficulties, saying Mrs Prodgers was sometimes like that. And then Mrs Foster starts defending and making excuses for Mrs Prodgers. This little manoeuvre rather amused me. My aunt raises objections, and they make excuses for Prodgers!

In the end I consented, and on Thursday I shall ride with Foster; this gentleman will encounter us on the Promenade, as one meets acquaintances there every day who join one's party, and he will be introduced to me. All things considered, I am quite curious to know what this message from Spa can be.

At eight o'clock I had the idea of going to the Théâtre Français where English amateurs are performing for the benefit of the poor.

What a ridiculous spectacle! Not a single woman — only very common men who knew neither their lines nor how to act. From the upper gallery they shouted all manner of vulgar nonsense. Go on — or Good bye! etc.³

Lighting a giorno, few people in the audience.⁴

[Crossed out: Tuesday, 29 December 1875.]

This morning I went out on foot with Sabatini and Victor. The Italian and his dog are on the Promenade — to avoid a meeting between the dogs, I cross the street directly opposite the house, having seen the man approaching, but his dog advances, Victor does too, and they fight, quite mildly at that. I stop at the gate and call my dog, who goes back in. Then the man advances toward the railing, shouting: he must be locked up! I turn for a moment without stopping, and the man repeats — he must be locked up!

Astonished at this supreme audacity, I continue on my way as if those words were not addressed to me, and go inside.

I could not conceive that a gentleman could conduct himself in such a manner — forget himself to that degree. I had been quite right to think that an Italian prince was equivalent to a simple gentleman of any other nation, and that an Italian gentleman was worse than a French man — as for an Italian man of the lower sort, good God, I no longer know what to compare him to!

To imagine that because two dogs fought, a gentleman should come and speak aloud and without the slightest politeness to a well-bred young lady! No — I truly cannot imagine it, and every Italian deserves to be treated as I have treated them up till now.

To imagine that a gentleman should say without so much as pardon me, or Mademoiselle, or anything to soften his words. He must be locked up — and not said but shouted from one side of the street to the other. O Italia paese barbaro, selvaggio! O Italiani scellerati, birbanti, banditti, facchini miseri!⁵

Who in the world would say otherwise — and I do believe that from this day on my aversion to Italians will be fixed forever.

[Annotation: 1880. I apologize to the Italians.]

But there is more: this signor facchino⁶ approaches the Promenade gate — I believe the man intended to have words with me — but with a dignity of which I shall be proud my whole life I pretended not even to admit that anyone could dare such a thing; I went inside: the hour of my walk was over. And Arthur went to speak to him. He had the audacity to threaten to kill the dog.

Tell me, for pity's sake! In what country in the world does one do such a thing because one dog bit another? I can understand that if my dog had attacked a person, that would be a different matter — I should lock him up and muzzle him myself.

Well — what does one expect from an Italian.