I turned the key of my door.
I stripped off my shoes and my stockings also.
Dear red silken stockings!
I scrutinised my feet for a while. Then I asked myself:
“Which is lovelier, my feet or those in the painting?”
15th—I couldn’t rest last night.
The long wail of a horn somewhere in the distance—at the gate of the ocean perhaps—haunted me. The night was foggy.
I had a wild dream.
The fogs were not withdrawn this morning.
I was discouraged, I had to go out in my best gown.