Tuesday, 20 March 1877

[Four lines cancelled.]
There is an exchange of notes with the Fabbricatores, after which Dina and I go to see them.
Ah! I almost forgot — I went out at half past nine in the morning with Rosalie, went nearly as far as the main post office, and saw the gentleman who wishes to marry me — the one who showed himself to Rosalie. He is the brother of the Prince de Santasiglia, married to the daughter of the rich Duc de Monteleone. For half an hour I kept repeating: what a face! Abominable — Borghese, fatter and older. Faugh!
We go to the Philharmonic Circle — Maman in black velvet, Dina in blue, and I in white oriental gauze: a very long skirt, a ribbed-silk bodice heart-shaped at the back and square in front, with gauze sleeves to the elbow. Pearls at the neck, and hair powdered white. There are few people, as it is the same programme as last time, for the most part men — Mihdah Pasha. Bikowsky with his cousins sit near us. Bikowsky cannot forget that I asked him quite seriously how my dogs were getting on. This evening he tells me my dogs have telegraphed him that they are well. Pascarola comes later — I chat a little, but I am looking plain; I have no success!
At the exit already, Pascarola introduces us to the Duc de San Cesario, president of the Circle. Very witty, agreeable, and amusing. He has a wife who has the air of a beauty of thirty and who is the mother of a dreadful little young man of that age, I believe.
Pascarola and Bikowsky escort us to the carriage. I console myself a little at home by talking of Monsieur the Count and toasting macaroni. Yesterday was the charming moment — I made an omelette over the flame of a newspaper. It had the look of a sorcerer's furnace.