March 30th, 1873.

I have been dreaming of the Duc de H----. He wore three jackets of
the queerest cut, and was at our house to look at my pictures. He
admired them, and I talked with him. I was very much agitated, and
could scarcely conceal it. He talked with me very pleasantly, and
spoke of B----. He said:

"I was talking with her. I made her sit down and I spoke of you."

Oh! he talked to her about me, and it was on my account that he
spoke to her! How happy I am! At last my prayer is granted! Then he
brought some kind of paper or something, I don't know exactly what,
to ask for an address to get clothes, I believe. He was in the large
drawing-room, talked to me in low tones, encouraged me by his frank
manners, then I saw mountains on the pictures at which he was
looking. It is strange that I felt nothing extraordinary, and I was
less excited than when I am awake.

I was happy, I was calm and content.

These transports overwhelm me at the mere sight of his name, for I
am not sure of my happiness, and I ardently desire it. But when we
have what we desire and love, we are calm. So, in my dream I was
calm, for I no longer had anything to desire. I said nothing, in
order not to interrupt my happiness. I let myself go gently and
quietly.