Monday, 3 April 1876

The 13th is Torlonia’s date with respect to me — it was also Hamilton’s date, always with respect to me. He was presented on the 13th of March, a Monday, three weeks ago today. It is not so very long ago, and there is still hope. Fie! No, it is absurd.
Almost every time he has spoken to me, it has been on a Monday.
I painted all day and toward six o’clock they came to fetch me; putting on an Italian straw hat covered with white feathers and pinned up at the back with two yellow roses, I went out. This hat makes me look as Watteau as can be — besides it is the same shape as last summer. Reboux knows me — I had only to write to him seven or eight days ago.
I was bored — I did not see the little, fat, tipsy Torlonia. Tipsy, fat, and small — but irresistible; on my word as an honest woman. Ask all women — real ones — and they will tell you the same.
When a man has reached the point where Torlonia now stands in my estimation, only one thing is lacking: divinity. And absence bestows it. Torlonia is hamiltonised. It is as silly as can be — admit it — but it is true.
— Antonelli is not altogether handsome, I said some time ago, but there is no one better in Rome.
There is someone a great deal better, as you see.
M. and Mme Sarasin and Plowden spent the evening with us. I was foolish enough to give Plowden my photograph — I regret it now; I even inscribed it with these two words in printed letters: PEACE TO YOU. I am annoyed at having done all that. Mme Sarasin is a charming little woman — simple, agreeable, and perfectly bred; her husband is a wooden Swiss who has travelled greatly. They leave the day after tomorrow.
I was greatly alarmed to learn that one of the Swedomskys is ill with… in the margin smallpox — you know, that disease which I dare not even name and which fills me with terror, horror, and stupefaction.
Poor Pietro — I miss him. But if he lied to me! No — why doubt everything? It is simply too incredible. In a convent!
The baroness from the table d’hôte and her son are Swiss. They came in after dinner to see my paintings. Both of them are excessively red, excessively fat, and excessively merry. I chattered away and made them laugh like madmen.
Pietro may well take offence because I gave my photograph to Plowden. Dear Pietro has begged me so often to give him one. But no matter — he shall be rewarded; I have no fear of offending him, for he is still my dear, my very dear favourite.
He has four days yet. And if he were not to return at all! No — that would be too grievous. I say his love has rubbed off on me.
No more rings for our society! Dina has invented something adorable. A silver heart with the initials A.T.E. You will see that nothing better could be imagined. First, a heart is the most natural rallying symbol for a society like ours; everyone wears rings, whereas this silver heart will have a magnificent effect. Then the initials are the first letters of our three names: Aglaé, Thalie, Euphrosine — and these three letters can equally mean a te, which in Italian means to thee; and further, the A can stand for Antonelli, the T for Torlonia, and as for the E — we shall soon find a meaning for it if one is not satisfied with Emile.
Is it not apt, very simple and very original? One need look no further — nothing better could be found… It is adorable!
I am thinking of that dear friend who languishes in a cell like the soul of the very depraved Emile. I have largely forgotten the charming Surprising One. I no longer understand my former rages and no longer care about them. But no doubt on seeing him again I shall take up a fresh caprice for him.
How long it is until Saturday evening! Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Four evenings without Antonelli. Does he miss me? By Jove! You may doubt it — I do not, for if I am bored he must be bored, since he loves me. I cannot understand all his emotions, because I do not love — and he must feel a great many. Poor dear monk. We shall go to see the Colosseum by moonlight, on horseback.

Notes

Reboux: a fashionable Parisian milliner. ↩
“Hamiltonisé” — Marie’s coinage: made into a Hamilton, elevated to idol status, as she elevated the Duke of Hamilton. ↩
In Latin in the original: PAX TIBI. A liturgical greeting. ↩
Aglaé, Thalie, and Euphrosine — the three Graces of classical mythology. ↩
“A te” — in Italian in the original: “to you/thee.” ↩