Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Monday, 25 December 1876

How I wish I could say all the fine things it makes me think — all the things so many others have said so many times and in such a charming way. To quote a remark of some great man, a famous name, the march of some legion... and it would at once have a small — that is, a grand — interesting air about it. I was so busy recognizing landmarks that our train's head was already under the glass roof of the station when I was still searching for the populated rooftop of Saint John Lateran. The Spanish ambassadress was there, come to meet some ladies; I turned my head away when she recognized me — I was ashamed of coming to Rome... it seems to me that people look at me here as an... intruder.
We put up at the same hotel, in the same rooms; I climb the stairs and lean, having climbed them, against the glass globe at the corner of the banister — just as I leaned there on the evening of the insult. I cast a... vexed glance at the door of the secret staircase and go to take up residence in the red damask room. Would one believe it? With the very thought of making use again of its hidden exit. [Written across the page: I went out, in dark clothes, on my father's arm, into the full Christmas crowd in the middle of the Corso, on foot. All along the way I did nothing but blush and fear an encounter. O Rome! Life! Rome, enchantment, joy, peace and trouble. Rome.]