Wednesday, 28 February 1877

To make the time pass I sleep late, and Doenhoff came into the drawing room twice and found no one there.
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 respectable and extremely amiable.
Then we went to the Skating; I am more or less cured of my madness — our cavaliers 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 coachman had asked her twice whether I would indeed marry Larderel.
It is all nonsense, 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

In French in the original: comme il faut. ↩
Veglione: a Neapolitan masked ball. ↩
Marie transcribes the servant’s elided speech: L’cocher [sic] for le cocher (the coachman); the [sic] is the editors’. ↩