Tuesday, 16 March 1880

As soon as I was assured that Dina would stay, I regretted it. I hate to be disturbed, even in grief. And besides it would have been better, for she poses badly, though with infinite goodwill, and I am very much on edge -- I have been from the beginning; the painting is not going well.
This evening at the Italiens, Patti in Lucia with Nicolini.
For my part, I have seen her in La Traviata, in Faust, in The Barber, in Il Trovatore, and it is in Lucia that she is at her best.
They say that The Barber is her triumph, but as she sang it with a wretched tenor, that spoiled things. In Il Trovatore she lacks breadth, but in Lucia she is extraordinary. She acts with admirable passion; that little woman must be rather nasty, or at least capricious, impatient, and quick-tempered. And in the mad scene she works such miracles with her voice that those high notes, astonishing, pure, detached, marvelous, transport you, and through sheer admiration move you like the broad dramatic notes that come from the heart -- to the point of tears. I almost wept.
Saint-Amand arrived for that scene just as it had finished, after the three or four curtain calls. We are with the Gavinis; on leaving there is Fromessant; we take Saint-Amand with us, as a fifth (two Gavinis, Dina, myself, and him).