Wednesday, 28 February 1877

To make the time pass I sleep late, and Doenhoff entered the drawing room twice without finding anyone.
Yesterday Nasimoff spoke of a Mme Hamontoff, born Countess Projex, whose acquaintance would be most agreeable, and today that lady's husband paid us a call to invite us to their home this evening at five o'clock — we went. They are comme il faut and extremely amiable.
Then we went to the Skating; I am more or less cured of my madness — our suitors from the Veglione were there.
On the whole: bad weather, bad temper, general stupefaction, boredom to the point where I cannot string two words together. I tried on dresses — they no longer fit. You will understand my perfectly justified discontent.
Rosalie told me something this evening that she had been burning to tell for a long time: The cocher had asked her twice whether I would indeed marry Larderei.
These are nonsenses, but I find it very pleasing — even in jest — to speak only of marriage. It is a kind of respect that flatters my obsession.

Notes

Veglione: a Neapolitan masked ball.
Marie transcribes the servant's elided speech: L'cocher for le cocher (the coachman).