Thursday, 24 February 1876

Yesterday Besnard called on us. Last night we went to see the fair at the Piazza Navona, in the carriage and masked. Walitsky was with us. I adore going out masked — I adore carnival; during carnival I forget all my torments and I am happy.
Listen — I dreamed again that Rossi brought me a visiting card:
Georges Bergerault
violoniste del Re.
Is that not strange?
And I have seen the real Bergerault in a carriage on the Corso with a very pretty woman. Today there were three times as many people as yesterday. Everyone threw bouquets, and no one made himself particularly conspicuous.
— What have you done with my poor friend? You have made him quite mad, said Madame de Lorncourt to me.
— Which friend, Madame?
— Bruschetti — he is quite ill with it, and I doubt he will be able to come. You have made him mad.
— What a misfortune! But rest assured I did it without meaning to.
Bruschetti is in his carriage with his friend — but, busy looking elsewhere, I let him pass. He comes to the balcony only for the Barberi race, along with his friend, who resembles poor Eristoff and whom I shall call Eris for short.
We leave shortly, and he has only time to offer me a charming bonbonnière of red satin with a swallow painted on white satin on the lid. He also showed me yesterday's camellia, mounted on white card like ordinary jewellery, and enclosed in a box.
Starà sempre così, he said to me.
Buona sera e molte grazie, I said to him, for they were calling me to leave.
In the bonbonnière I find his card: Conte Vincenzo Bruschetti.
[Words blacked out: I had] no time to say a single word to Eris, and there was none of the constant exchange of flowers and sweets there had been yesterday.
Bruschetti has thoroughbred chestnut horses and a fine carriage. I have seen him for some time already at the Borghese and at the Pincio.
He is very agreeable, and I wish someone would introduce us.
The wretch, the villain, the cardinalino, did not appear.
I am still thinking of yesterday. Anyone would have abandoned the bouquet to its fate — besides, it was not about the bouquet; it is not a bouquet that is the point; one receives them, one throws them — but it is the manner of acting. Nobody else would have done that — who would go and fight a peasant for an ordinary carnival bouquet! Antonelli and no one else.
[Written across the page: Come now!]
With all this foolishness, I believe I missed him today, and I returned home almost sad.
I am attending to Bruschetti as well.

Notes

Italian: "violinist to the King" — a court appointment. Bergerault is apparently a real musician Marie has noticed.
Bonbonnière: a small decorative box for sweets or confectionery, here given as a keepsake.
Italian: "It will always stay like this." In Italian in the original.
Italian: "Good evening and many thanks." In Italian in the original.
Italian: "little cardinal" — Marie's ironic nickname for Pietro Antonelli, nephew of Cardinal Giacomo Antonelli. In Italian in the original.