Monday, 25 December 1876

We set out yesterday from San Remo — my father, my mother, and I — like a respectable family that has always been together. What thoughts I had during the journey! But charming reveries, castles in the air, dominated all other feelings and composed for me, as usual, a life detached from human things.
A most agreeable state, interrupted when the train stopped near the station at Albisola on account of a landslide on the line. We had to get out, seize our luggage, and walk for several minutes to meet a train that had come to fetch us — all by the trembling light of torches, which against a black horizon and the sound of the raging sea was most picturesque.
This accident led us into conversation with our fellow travellers, one of whom was an army officer. They carried our bags and supported us through the difficult passage. The officer was a fairly educated and intelligent man, and so, to his astonishment, I led him into a serious conversation — even an extravagant one... political.
From early morning I was at the window, so as not to lose a single moment of the view of the Roman Campagna.
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 recognising landmarks that the front of our train was already under the glass roof of the station while I was still looking for the statue-peopled roof of Saint John Lateran.
The Spanish ambassadress was there, come to meet some ladies; I turned my head away when she recognised 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 thought of making use of its hidden exit once more.
[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 turmoil. Rome.]