Everyone went to Frankfurt to see Monsieur Rembelinsky off. I still cough but my voice seems strong and clear. I sang this evening and there was a crowd under my balcony. Two Russian households have arrived, from Petersburg — very fashionable.

[Written across the page: But at Soden they would listen to a cat.] Just imagine — Tomachewsky asked me yesterday who had been singing at our place, and would not believe it was I; it must have been Madame Abaza, he said — your voice is not so powerful! Poor man — he has no idea what voice I once had; though to be taken for Madame Abaza in point of strength is very flattering, especially for me who possess the flexibility and the charm. Soden would it really do me good? That poor dear Walitsky. We encounter the princes twenty times a day, yet I distinguish them no more than the trees of the park or the donkeys standing in their shade.