Tuesday, 27 February 1877

M. Nasimoff spent more than an hour with us — he had been forewarned, as had the Tolstoys who are here; he has known us for six years and is an amiable, kind man. He recounted in the most amusing fashion the schemes of the Neapolitan nobles, which we see enacted daily before our windows by some twenty or more of them.
— They always have a handkerchief in hand, but they only ever blow their noses in the Russian fashion... like so!
He places himself at our disposal and will do everything to entertain us — he does this for all Russians; only these other Russians do not go into Naples society.
— Time, Mesdames, and everything will arrange itself!
He said a great many things that revived me, and regretted that we had arrived so late — he could have obtained invitations to the grand balls and any number of other things; in short, he put us fully in the picture. I am almost sane again, and as Doenhoff came after him, I was very much at ease; I played cards with his Prussian Excellency and gave him a beautiful Sorrento portfolio he had admired — a gift for which I receive a kiss on each hand.
And in the evening I dressed as a white monk with a white alms-bag ornamented with golden sphinxes, white cords, chaplets, hood and so forth; Doenhoff, corpulent as he is, arrayed himself in my brown Capuchin habit and we walked out into the antechamber arm in arm, hoods pushed down to the tips of our noses. On seeing the court marshal of H.H. in this costume, the servants began by laughing and ended by bowing. I shall never forget it. We laughed so much.
A letter from Foster.
The beautiful Rosine, Countess of Mirafiore, the king's wife, wants, they say, more than ever to be proclaimed queen. That would be splendid for Larderei, whom I adore! And what a trick played on Marguerite! That princess will be the greatest, most beloved, most celebrated of queens. So... I envy her. I would like to be her favorite. No...
Ah! how I love Larderei — I shall fall asleep thinking of him.
Yesterday morning Doenhoff came to tell Maman it would be better not to ride with Altamura. He made inquiries from the mayor himself. Altamura is a stockbroker, very respectable, but not received in high society.
— Besides, said the Count, it is better not to let her ride with him — people will immediately say he is courting her; another woman might pass unnoticed, but Mademoiselle is so remarked upon for her beauty that they will gossip at once, having that pretext. Everyone pays her compliments; the prince says so many things.
Let us go to sleep dreaming of Larderei who has taken all my thoughts, whom I love, and who does not come...
When will you come, Bijou? I love you.