September 12th, 1873.

This morning I made a scene with Mamma and my aunt. I could stand it
no longer, the bottle had to be opened, there was too much gas in
it. I wept. It lasted two hours and a half.

I asked forgiveness. Just at that moment some one said that a house
on the Rue de France was burning. I ran to see it. We were all at
the windows. The carriages were brought from the stables, women came
out carrying children. The building was not yet in flames. There was
a courtyard surrounded by four sheds filled with hay. The fire
flared high, but the people in Nice are always the same. They do
nothing to subdue it, only stand at a distance to enjoy the
spectacle.

Oh! if it were in Russia, it would have been extinguished long ago.
Our fire engines are terrible when they are heard a league away,
every quarter has one. The firemen in golden helmets and lots of
little bells. (The noise the Duc de H----'s carriage makes coming
from a distance reminds me of the fire engines.)

At last, after half an hour, a cart arrived, dragged by ten men,
what a mere nothing! And four soldiers with guns.

No doubt they were going to extinguish the fire with them! But it
was out before they came.

So I return to what I was saying: A complete reform in my costume