Saturday, 23 February 1878

^4^ [Saturday, 23 February 1878]
— The news of my supposed marriage is the most absurd thing in the world. It is as though one were to marry me to the late Holy Father. This M. des Perrières must have had nothing better to do than amuse himself inventing such malicious nonsense, etc. etc.
So Melissano is really in Florence? Tell him that the painting I promised him is at his disposal. I may bring it in person.
But tell me — if there is no carnival, how are we to manage? Our chaperon, for all her thoroughly English rigidity, has no intention of being bored at all. I should warn you that she and her sister are both very elegant and charming. Will there be races? At Naples or at Florence? Where will there be more society and gaiety? Will there be balls — everything one could imagine for one's amusement? I am ridiculous with all these questions, but I am charged with asking them, and besides, frankly speaking, for me to consent to leave my work for fifteen days, it must be worth the sacrifice — there must be compensation. Do not let Melissano monopolize you entirely — I know he is charming — and answer us quickly, and above all do not be selfish... you would be punished for it, as the young harpist is not of the party. Nevertheless she was very sensible of the consoling news you convey, which I hastened to transmit to her by telephone. She replied with a long sigh.
So, in brief: tell us where we ought to go to enjoy ourselves for fifteen days, since this journey is to be a pleasure excursion.
Etc. Etc.
I was so thoroughly fixed to the sofa that Blanc, on my aunt's orders, had to take me in his arms and carry me to
^4^ ibid. p. 188
my room.
[Two lines cancelled: It bothers me that this man is in love with me]
I took the Swiss girls to see a Russian painter, Harlamoff. But these Swiss girls, and above all my own endless chattering, will lead me to no good end.