I think of returning to Nice. The cards predict much good, but can
the cards be believed?

Ah! if I could marry some prince! Then I would return to Nice and
make a triumphal entry. But no, it is indicated that nothing will
succeed for me; so I shall make no more plans or, if I do, it will
be with the sorrowful conviction of their uselessness. Each time I
have been disappointed.


Wednesday, January 5th, 1876.

This is what I wrote to the General:

"I am in Rome, and it is very wonderful (ah! it is very wonderful,
very marvellous). It is cold as Russia, the water freezes in the
fountains, but the cold would be nothing if it was _only_ the cold.
Since morning we have been in search of an apartment, and we have
seen only one. I did not have courage to go up when they pointed out
a black, yawning hole, dirty and frightful. I have looked in vain
for a house with any resemblance to the French houses. I find only
ruins or cracked columns. No doubt it is very beautiful, but agree
with me that a good, comfortable apartment is infinitely more
pleasant, though less artistic.

"I believe we shall end by lodging in the baths of Caracalla or in
the Coliseum. The foreigners will take me for the ghost of a
Christian martyr, devoured by some fierce tiger in the presence of
some carnivorous emperor. As to the furniture, we will be content
with fragments of statues or a few bones, the sublime remains of a