Belmonte Pandola Odescalchi Pizzardi Zucchini Cesaro Antonelli Angelini
On entering the drawing-room this morning I was almost stifled by the scent of flowers — the room is literally full of them: flowers from Doenhoff,...
The second day of the races!
Everything was going well — we left the hotel cheerfully; I was pleasant with Altamura, and Saint-Joseph's bouquet served as our topic of...
I had the whole day to recount but can remember nothing! I know only that on the Corso we encountered Antonelli two or three times, and then Maman...
Opening my eyes at noon my first thought was: Is it possible to behave as I did yesterday? Is it possible to forget one's pride? But it was not my...
It is again two in the morning when I sit down to write — but what does it matter.
And God got me out of it. Having gone to bed at four o'clock, I woke at half past seven, which made three and a half hours of sleep.
And at six o'clock we were once again in the railway carriage. I fell asleep several times and always had frightful dreams — nightmares.
So here I am in this blue room for which I was sighing — and in which I sigh still.
At eleven o'clock I was summoned to Maman's room for a letter that had just been received and which they would only give to me. You can guess my...
I dreamed that I was marrying Giacometto Doria, and I was very displeased when I woke up.
He told me all about his confinement in the monastery. The superior, having been warned that he was receiving the most dissolute and most...
Is there anywhere in the world more charming, and worse inhabited, than Nice? All the permanent residents are still here, but they are so...
I have been in Nice not a week, and yet it seems to me I have been here a month.
The Rome races have been put off to the 11th or the 14th — there is time enough then for the telegram. I sent one this morning to the hotel...
Today is the opening of the flower exhibition at the Villa Borghese. The Princess will be there, and everyone. I am just as glad to be at Nice — for...
At twenty minutes past eight we were at the station, where the Sapogenikoffs and Collignon met us.
It is raining and I spend my day playing the piano, reading, and above all grumbling, cursing, and complaining — now laughing, now weeping — so that...
The first anniversary of the founding of the Society A.T.E.