Thursday, 5 July 1877

I am a little less ugly than usual, and we take a turn at the Bois, tolerably pleasant.
Fauvel delighted me by saying that it is going like clockwork; he also explained various things concerning the voice, so that I take heart again.
In the evening a gathering of Frenchwomen — Mouzay, her daughter, the baronne, and the comtesse de Bailleul. When the comtesse had gone we spoke again of the Marquis de Preaulx and the Duc de Rohan, his brother-in-law. It appears that the Duke's son, the Prince de Léon, has monopolised the Marquis… in any case it matters little, since it is only a dream. But what a beautiful dream.