Tuesday, 24 April 1877

I am not sending that last note. I will write him nothing more.
I am the most wretched of women. No one can measure the full extent of my degradation! Hideous degradation — I thought myself so far from these horrors, so pure, so...
If he believes what he has written, the more I write the more he will believe it — unless... I confess to him that I loved him, which would be, which is impossible.
I have a fever and am in such a detestable state that I cannot describe it. Carmignano has just left us.
I am going to take a drive outside the city, to get some air and think... my scattered wits are driving me mad.
I believe — I am certain — that I was right not to send those last letters. The first was enough. To be reduced to making oneself a nuisance to men! That is surely the ultimate degradation, both of the known world and of the world yet to be discovered. The climb up Posillipo, with its beautiful views, gave me good food for reflection. To go off somewhere alone and think — that is the best thing to do in such a case. I am disgusted — oh, positively disgusted — with myself and with all the rest of the universe, which means I revolt only in fits and starts. I would find his note crude and infamous, if it were less witty and if it did not prove to me that my letter struck him keenly.
Several people came to inquire after Maman — among others the most celebrated of all the Melissanos — just as I was alighting from my carriage, which I had had closed from the beginning of the Chiaja so as to be less observed alone. One recognised the livery, but one could not see too clearly...
Newspaper clippingCoupure de journal napolitain (non identifié), «Notizie artistiche», avril 1877
Artistic News. — Yesterday evening, at the private little theatre of the Società Filarmonica, a charming French comedy in three acts with vaudeville airs by Bayard and Suvage was performed. The comedy was entitled Le Gant et l’éventail, and it was acted by the amateurs the Princess di Fondi, the Princess di Castelcicala, the Marchesa di Castania, the Duca di Lavello, the Marchese Giuseppe Caracciolo di Bella and Don Giambattista Borghese. The costumes were of the last century. The warmest applause went to the leading lady, the Princess di Fondi. The music of the couplets was by Maestro Troise and was judged most charming.
Newspaper cutting pasted into the notebook: “Notizie artistiche”, the French comedy at the Società Filarmonica
Newspaper cutting pasted into the notebook: “Notizie artistiche”, the French comedy at the Società Filarmonica Mon Journal, vol. 10, p. 139 (facsimile)
In any case — what was I going to say?
Ah yes — since Madame is in bed, it is the agreeable Gatowsky who takes us to the Cercle, or rather to the Società Filarmonica, where they are performing a French comedy this evening. I wear a very fine white wool gown, fitted in one piece, low-cut with short sleeves. The front of the bodice is entirely covered with green leaves that descend in a single band, crescendo, all the way down and run round the skirt, which is lined with lace and a heap of frothy little nothings that look very pretty. Nothing at the neck, nothing on the arms; Psyche coiffure.
For perhaps the first time in Naples I was interesting and pretty — not as before, oh no, but better than of late.
Dina wears a beautiful black gown.
The hall is truly brilliant and the lady-actresses have dazzling diamonds.
I divided my attention between the very amusing play and our cavaliers! Ah — what a lapse! I forgot to tell you that I had a leaf-fan with a bouquet of lily-of-the-valley attached to the last front leaf.
Bouquet and leaves were immediately dismembered for buttonholes for Pascarola, Campomarino, Caracciolo, and the most Swiss of all, Marcuard — who is mercilessly cold about his passion and is always on the same simple terms with me.
The charming thing to report is that Pascarola, after a rather heartfelt little speech on home life, on a little wife, a hearth, a life for two, asked me timidly whether I would come and grace his domestic leisure, serve as his friend, companion, wife — adding that he was sure of obtaining a perfect accord through attentiveness, solicitude, love. Since the proposal was wrapped in philosophical reflections, it was to the latter that I replied — and there the matter rested. It is original.
I was in a charming humour and joked about Larderel, whom we had the sorrow of losing after having had him every third day, like a fever. I say, laughing, that I adore him, and people repeat it and call him our dear Alexandre without suspecting that... In short, I appear to be making fun of him.
We left as soon as the play was over — it would have been melancholy to stay among a set who all know one another; they were waiting for the actors, who were to have supper at the Cercle itself.
Melito introduces his brother, and just as Campomarino was bringing the cloaks, the Duke of San Cesario came to say a few jests which, from a man like him, are almost impertinences.
Larderel saw me only when I was plain! That raises a storm. I shall remake myself.
Let us not do as the imbeciles do — let us not deplore the past, which is beyond remedy.
I reproach myself with nothing, because it is useless — and I promise myself nothing for the future, for the same reason. One learns how one ought to have acted if the same case arose again, but it is of no use, because nothing repeats itself. It is like people who claim to know women: you may know fifty, but the fifty-first is different. And this is quite natural — so too with men. A few general traits... yes, but the rest! Ah! My emperor.
In the end, the only explanation for... the Aquarium is jealousy.

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Notes

Posillipo (Pausilippe in the French): a scenic hill overlooking the Bay of Naples, a favourite carriage drive offering panoramic views. ↩
In Italian in the original: a cutting from a Neapolitan paper (Notizie artistiche) pasted into the diary. ↩
Le Gant et l’éventail: “The Glove and the Fan”. ↩
The Società Filarmonica: a private Neapolitan club for music and theatrical performances. ↩
Coiffure Psyché: a classical revival hairstyle with hair gathered up, leaving the neck bare — inspired by ancient Greek sculpture. Fashionable in the 1870s. ↩
In French in the original: blagues — jokes, banter. ↩
In French in the original: Mon empereur — the exclamation Larderel used when tipsy and Marie has adopted. ↩