Wednesday, 2 May 1877

My emperor, how one breathes freely here — and the ink is so good that one always wants to write.
Dina is a little indisposed and keeping her room, so I have the best seat, which lets me enjoy the drive more fully. I could always have had this seat, but delicacy and courtesy oblige me to yield it.
The Cascine is a paradise — I adore greenery. My mania for wishes has not passed; so as I drove along I made them at every opportunity. The sound of a carriage coming up behind ours struck me particularly; I wanted to look: If you turn round, such-and-such will not happen! I was compelled not to turn round. But presently the carriage overtook us and we were able to see a victoria drawn by two bay horses, with simple and elegant green liveries. The arms bore a count's coronet, and the lady in the victoria seemed to me slender and very elegant, though no longer young. A violet dress of silk and embossed velvet, and bunches of violets on her hat.
I barely looked at her, but she examined me and smiled.
"Who is that lady?" Maman was asking the coachman at the very moment I was thinking: that must be Larderei's mother — she resembles him.
"Madame de Larderei," replied the coachman.
Why did she look at me so attentively, and why did she smile? Does she know me? Someone must have given her my description. And if she knows — what does she know: the first part, or the second?
Seeing her alight and turn into the pedestrians' walk on the left, just as the riders' path is on the right, I had our carriage stop much further on and got down with Maman so as to meet her face to face. She is French, you know? She smiled at me again, very kindly; perhaps that is simply her way.
After a quarter of an hour she passed us again, this time going in the same direction, with her daughter the Comtesse de Mirafiore — a charming little thing to look at, elegant and graceful.
Larderei has an aristocratic family, a lovely palazzo, his mother keeps open house, his sister is the king's daughter-in-law, his brother married a Salviati — all things considered, I forgive myself my weakness for him. A caprice that cannot wound one's vanity is something clean, and may without shame call itself love and flourish as long as it pleases.
So I no longer need to blush and suffer over all those little things that wounded my delicate feelings. Hm — I am quite pleased with my family, not bad at all, not bad. I say so to Maman and Dina and laugh about my family. You see, things that would distress another person only amuse me.
Marcuard writes that there is a gathering at the Skating rink this evening, and reminds us that tomorrow we lunch with him. You know, it is seriously very fashionable in Florence to lunch at Marcuard's.
I go to the Skating rink with Maman. Florence's Skating rink is a ravishing round hall, quite large, very high-domed, elegant, lit by electricity. Few people, but of an elegant sort. Marcuard skates over to us and at once I catch sight of my family — Blanche in a lovers' conversation with her husband. You would never take them for husband and wife to see them this evening — Giselle and Balzorano rather. My family is charming. My sister has none of the air of a countess or a married woman; she is a little girl with whom I should like to be silly, as with Giro-Olga. She looks so good-natured, so gentle. Decidedly my family is the jewel of Florence. You understand — be that as it may — it flatters me.
Marcuard is agreeable, and I feel agreeable and graceful in turn. What a beautiful city Florence is, my emperor.
I should rather like the Marquis Niccolini to pay me just a little court — very little. If he would only get himself introduced, that would be enough for me. As for Larderei, he is very well where he is; he satisfies me at a distance, and perhaps he is even better from afar.

Notes

Marie addresses her journal as "mon empereur" (my emperor) — an affectionate, whimsical mode of address she uses for her imaginary reader.
The Cascine is Florence's principal public park, stretching along the Arno, famous for fashionable afternoon drives.