Painting. Do you know who occupies my thoughts at the rink? Paolo. Sympathy?

Painting. Do you know who occupies my thoughts at the rink? Paolo. Sympathy?
You, Monsieur? We have nothing to say to each other — the situation is painful and ugly.
If he still interests me... one may well say that interest has nothing to do with it. No matter — I would a hundred thousand times sooner see him a beggar and wretch than established in society and some lady's lover. Because then at least he would be good for something — it is logical. Let him not be mine — so much the better; but let him not belong to anyone else!
I sing Aïda. The music intoxicates me, fills me with longing, drives me wild.
I wandered candle in hand through the empty rooms of the first floor, as I had done the other evening... I stopped in the great drawing room to sing Aïda when a gentleman was announced... It was only Simonetti, who spent the whole evening — during which I could not recover from the agitation caused by: a gentleman.

Sunday, 31 December 1876

I wish to spend New Year's Day in Rome, for superstition has it that the manner in which one passes it is more or less the programme for the rest of the year.
This superstition makes me dread a dismal first of January.
Was that Antonelli, on Tuesday?
A drive to the Borghese and so forth (in a carriage as always), during which I am under a sort of painful impression.
I go to dine at the table d'hôte every day on account of these English ladies who move in the best circles of Black Rome.
This evening we were at the Opera in the same box as the first time last winter — that is, on the barcaccia side, which inconvenienced the gentlemen there by obliging them to keep turning their heads.
Ah! If only I could marry as I wished, as I... There is Don Carlos, for whom I would go to the ends of the earth — I am in love with his portrait — and then so many others... And Pizzardi, who is Antonelli's portrait done handsomely. That is to say... Pizzardi is Rome's foremost lion ever since he killed a man in a duel; they say he is superb. Antonelli wishes and professes to resemble him. I should very much like to see Pizzardi.
Rossi and Plowden did not leave our side. Plowden gave me his arm as we left — he is jubilant; there is only him for the moment. But he will not be jubilant for long, one must hope.
Poor Pietro, "very sad in the country." But very close to Rome!!
I believe I am beginning to please Oscar Angelini. He has always made me laugh. He knows Nice and my brother Paul's escapades.
And then?... At the theatre. I loved him with frenzy...
It is always the poetry of regret... the sovereign charm of melancholy.
I have not patience enough this evening to read my fortune in the mirror.

Notes

table d'hôte — the communal dining table at a hotel, where guests of all nationalities mixed.
Rome noire ("Black Rome") — papal and clerical society, as distinct from the "White" or royal-Italian circles.