Wednesday, December 29th, 1875.

We went to see Mme. du M----. She gave me seven letters of
introduction for Rome. May God grant that they will be of the
service this excellent woman desires, she loves me so much! No doubt
everybody has trouble. One is ill, another is in love, another wants
money, another is bored. You will say, perhaps, "Poor little idler,
she thinks she is the only person who is unhappy, while she is
happier than most people." But my sorrow is the most hateful of all.

We lose a beloved one. We mourn for a year, two years, and remain
sorrowful all our lives. The greatest grief loses its force with
time, but an incessant, eternal torment!...

I have just read Mme. du M----'s letters. No one could be kinder, no
one could be more charming. And, just think, the greater part of
the time those who would like to do things cannot. It is six years
since she left Rome and I doubt whether her acquaintances remember
her; and then, her influence was never great.

"Have you suffered, wept, and languished,
Thinking hope was all in vain,
Soul in mourning, torn heart anguished?
Then you understand my pain."

_Sappho_ was given to-night. I wore a sort of Neapolitan shirt of
blue crêpe de Chine and old lace, with a white front. It can't be
described--it was as original and charming as possible, with a white